Started off as me just attempting to get half-decent at writing porn-y stuff, ended up with a kind of plot. Who knows.
Rachel likes the autumn. Likes the way the leaves turn crisp and brown and fall to the ground, likes to kick them up and watch them swirl in the wind, likes going back to school, even, likes the phrase new challenges await us.
Quinn likes the summer. Likes to lie in the sun hot and lazy, likes to watch girls in bikinis (and one girl in particular) dip in and out of the pool, likes the absence of school, likes to see her skin tan in the heat.
Rachel can't relax in the summer, gets irritable and antsy without a timetabled work day. The temperature prickles her skin, she bickers with her girlfriend just for something to do, she begs her dancing teachers to give her extra lessons.
It's June when they lose at Nationals, and the summer vacation stretches in front of them, long and tortuous, threatening to bake Rachel in the heat and the memories of their defeat.
"At least it was an honest defeat," Mr Schuester said, "At least there was no tricks or treachery, we sung our hearts out and the other team was just better." he said, "At least we know we can come back next year, improved, and we can beat them."
That doesn't make Rachel feel much better though, she doesn't think there can be a qualifier for defeat. Honest or not, it's still defeat.
Quinn finds her in the auditorium, where it's dark and cool. She stands at the back of the room and watches her for a while, looking small, sitting on the edge of the stage, staring at her legs swinging back and forth. A few hours ago she was filling the whole room with just her voice.
She approaches slowly down the centre aisle, and Rachel doesn't look up, although she must hear because the room is quiet except for her footsteps.
"Hey," she says, a few feet away, "Everyone's been asking where you are. The after party, you know."
Rachel shrugs, doesn't look up still, says "It doesn't seem like there's much to celebrate."
Quinn climbs the steps to the stage, looks out at the empty rows of seats and sits down next to the other girl, covers her hand with her own. "More commiserating than celebrating, I think."
Rachel lays her head on her shoulder, and they're quiet for a little while, until Quinn breaks the silence, "There's always next year."
"And if we don't win next year? What about then?"
Quinn stretches her arms out, gestures at the empty seats, "Then there'll be other competitions, or you'll be on Broadway, or..." she searches for the words, "Or you'll go to LA and be on TV or in movies, or get signed to a record label and there'll be hordes of screaming girls that follow you everywhere like Justin Bieber, or you'll go to France or Italy or somewhere else fancy and drink a lot of wine and be in art films that no one understands but find kind of offensive. Or, I don't know, maybe London and star in adaptations of Jane Austen novels and Keira Knightley will hate your guts or...or..." she pauses for breath, feels Rachel's eyes on her and turns to look.
She finds herself being kissed fervently, Rachel's cheeks still damp with the remnants of old tears, pushed back against the hard wood of the stage, her legs still hanging over the edge.
"Rach - " she tries to say, having suspicions of where this is headed and thinking it may not be the most healthy outlet, but Rachel just smiles, slightly, against her lips, and kisses her again, and she finds she doesn't have the will to stop her.
Fingers scrabble at the buttons of her blouse, and teeth tug at her ear. "Maybe I won't sing or act at all." Rachel says, the words interrupting hot wet kisses to Quinn's neck. She pushes up her bra and rubs tight circles over her nipple, bringing it to a hard peak, "Maybe I'll go to Africa and save the starving children."
"All of them?" Quinn gasps, there's a tongue on her collar bone and she can't quite believe Rachel want to have a conversation while she's doing this (but of course she can believe it, because it's not like it's the first time).
Rachel's mouth moves downwards and Quinn moans as it hits her breast, tangling her fingers in thick brown hair, "Well," Rachel says, even while all Quinn can think about is the loss of those lips against her, hovering so close to her skin still, "That would be the aim."
She pulls her back up to kiss her again, glad when Rachel's hands stay on her chest. "Really, Tinkerbell?" she says, her eyes clenched shut as Rachel nips at her jaw and one finger traces the muscles of her stomach making her twitch, "I thought you needed applause to live." The sentence ends in a groan and she wonders if teasing Rachel while she's in this position is such a good idea.
A thigh slips between her own though and she grinds her hips down gratefully, suddenly aware as she speaks of just where they are, of just how easy it would be for anyone to walk in. "Rachel," she says, her sentences interrupted by a moan as teeth graze her abs and normally steady fingers fumble with the button of her jeans, "Someone might come looking for us. They could - oh - huh - " Rachel has her underwear around her knees, teases gently at the inside of her thighs and leans back up to kiss her and muffle her words, one hand teasing at her nipples again.
"They won't come looking for us," she says, although all Quinn can think about is her fingers slipping ever close to her aching centre, "They're celebrating." and Quinn hears the hint of bitterness in her voice, that their team mates can party when Rachel still can't fully accept their loss, but one finger finds her clit making her gasp, and she wouldn't know what to say anyway, so instead she just bucks her hips and hopes for more.
"You're right though," Rachel says conversationally, even as the girl beneath her jerks and moans, "I don't think I can give up on singing altogether." Fuck Quinn thinks, and she says it out loud, hears it echo through the room, as two fingers slip inside her and begin to thrust more slowly than she'd like.
Rachel is kneeling above her, watching as her hand moves lazily, and Quinn struggles to keep her eyes open and meet her gaze, pretend they're still having a normal conversation. "This wasn't part of the plan, losing Nationals." Rachel says, "It took me by surprise," Quinn nods and bucks her hips in an attempt to pick up the pace, but Rachel just stills her hand for a moment, and, at the other girl's grunt of frustration, begins the same unhurried rhythm again. Quinn pouts and Rachel leans down to kiss her.
"What will I do if my other plans fall through?" she says, drawing away when Quinn's tongue tries to push into her mouth, "I was going to spend the summer researching international Glee club competitions. Now what will I do?"
Quinn can barely think straight, maddened by the motion of Rachel's hand which was only serving to turn her on more, "I don't know, Rach," she says, knowing they will stay like this unless she participates, "You can't plan everything."
Rachel seems to think about this for a few seconds, distracted even while Quinn's hips buck and again and she gets a few seconds of welcome relief from the other girl's teasing. Then though, Rachel grins, withdraws her hand entirely and Quinn whines in frustration.
"Some things I can," Rachel says, presses her lips hard against Quinn's, and enters her again with three fingers.
"Fuck," Quinn repeats herself, rocking her hips desperately upwards, she reaches out to grasp at Rachel's free hand, as her thumb brushes against her clit. Rachel goes from moving infuriatingly slowly to bringing the other girl quickly close to the edge, her fingers buried inside her and her tongue pushing against Quinn's. It makes sense, Quinn would think when she was more coherent, she was usually at her most passionate when she was trying to prove a point, but for now all she can do is moan and rock against Rachel's hand.
"Why doesn't it worry you?" Rachel says, over the sound of Quinn's breathy moans, "Not having a plan. Not knowing what's going to happen?"
Quinn can't think though, because Rachel's fingers are inside her and she's so close, can feel the tightening in her stomach and Rachel stops. Her eyes open desperately, "Rach," she says, "Please."
Rachel's mouth curves and she seems to consider teasing her further, but changes her mind, curls her fingers instead and flicks at her clit, and that's all it takes. Quinn's back arches and the room is filled with the sound of her voice as she cries out her orgasm, Rachel's hand still moving until she falls back against the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she says eventually, her hand over her eyes as she tries to get control of her breathing, vaguely aware of what she must look like, shirt unbuttoned and jeans and underwear around her ankles at the edge of an empty stage, "Her best performance yet."
She opens her eyes finally to see Rachel smiling fondly down at her, and then reaching to help her redress. "Are you going to answer me?" she says, and Quinn's mind races frantically back as the other girl buttons her blouse.
Seeing her confusion, Rachel laughs, kisses her briefly on the lips, explains, "Why doesn't it worry you? Not having any sort of plan for the future?"
Quinn meets her eyes, "I do have a plan," she says, as if it should be obvious, and Rachel frowns in confusion, "I'm going to get a really awesome job to pay for all the theatre tickets I'm going to be buying, because my girlfriend thinks giving free tickets away is immoral."
Rachel's mouth quirks, "It is immoral, it gives an unfair advantage to those not fortunate enough to - "
"Rach," Quinn puts a finger to her girlfriend's lips, effectively shutting her up, "You're never going to get over not having famous parents are you?"
"No." Rachel says, and Quinn laughs, moves her hand to kiss her languidly.
"Maybe for now we can just enjoy our summer vacation?" she asks when she pulls away, "Have some spontaneous, unplanned fun? Maybe?"
Rachel gestures indignantly at the stage, "What do you think that was? Wasn't that spontaneous, unplanned fun?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, "You definitely planned that."
"Well, it was somewhat comforting."
Quinn jumps down off the stage, regrets it slightly when she lands with a heavy thud, but turns and reaches for Rachel's hand anyway, helps her down too, "So let's go enjoy our summer, forget about Nationals, and in the fall you can plan everything in excruciating detail until someone in Glee snaps and strangles you." She starts to walk backwards, to pull the other girl out of the auditorium.
"We can still have small plans," Rachel says, trotting after her, "Small, useful plans. Our defeat at Nationals hasn't entirely shaken my belief in the use of strict schedules."
Quinn stops to grin, brush a thumb over her cheek as she kisses her, and lead her outside.