AN: Just, in terms of Quinn's postgraduate studies, I'm sort of basing the premise of how the Masters and PhD programs work on my own. Cool.
II
"I don't know what part of say no fucking way you didn't understand about what I told you," Santana lectures as she furiously dusts at the mantlepiece above the fireplace she shares with Rachel. "Honestly, Fabray, you're supposed to be a genius. How the fuck did you mess it up so spectacularly?"
From her position on the couch, her iced tea in hand, Quinn knows it's wise not to respond when Santana is in this mood. The woman is purposefully cleaning. It's terrifying.
"Quinn," she suddenly says, spinning to face the blonde, and it's serious because she uses the blonde's actual name. "You are going to get hurt."
And, the thing is, Quinn can't even dispute that assumption. It's practically a given, at this point. A prediction. Quinn is going to get hurt, one way or the other, but there's nothing she can do about it now.
Still, she says, "It's going to be fine."
Santana scoffs.
"I'll just book some extra appointments with my therapist," she adds.
Santana levels her with such a glare that, if Quinn were anyone else, would have her flinching. But, alas, Quinn is Quinn, and she just glares right back.
"It's going to be fine," Quinn repeats.
"Don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart."
"Fine," Quinn huffs; "I won't."
Santana sighs, easing up on her ire. "I don't mean that," she says. "I mean, you can come to me, of course, but I don't want your heart to get broken. I need you, like, on fire, or something. My wing-woman. What am I supposed to do if you're, like, lack lustre?"
Quinn sets her glass on a coaster on the coffee table and rises to her feet. She approaches Santana slowly. "I love you too, San," she says, placing her hands on the Latina's shoulders. "You know you're my best friend, and I'll always be your wing-woman. Nothing about this situation changes that."
"Promise me you'll still visit me when this inevitably blows up in all our faces?"
Quinn smiles through her unease. "Of course," she says. "You're stuck with me for life, Lopez. You've tried and failed to get rid of me how many times now?"
"I'm obviously a glutton for punishment."
"Asshole."
Santana shrugs her hands off. "Don't just sit there," she says. "Make yourself useful and fluff those fucking pillows before the Munchkin gets back with the grub."
"I don't understand why we didn't just order in."
"Really?" Santana pushes her away slightly. "Berry would use any opportunity to get out of the cleaning she requested. God, she's a diabolical menace."
"You love her."
"Shut up."
Quinn laughs. "She's special to you," she sings, dancing around the living room. "You can't imagine living without her."
Santana just shakes her head, choosing not to point out that the same things apply to Quinn, in much more dangerous ways. "Just fluff those fucking pillows," she grumbles instead, and that's how Rachel finds them: Santana dusting, and Quinn sprawled out on the couch with her hands and feet in the air.
Rachel frowns at the sight, and Santana just shrugs when Rachel shoots her a questioning look. "Quinn," Rachel calls softly as she makes her way to the kitchen to deposit their food on the closest surface she can find. "What are you doing?"
"Fluffing," is the response she receives.
After setting down the food, Rachel returns to the living room. "Fluffing?"
Quinn lifts her head to look at her. "You're back."
"What are you doing?"
Quinn drops her legs to the ground, and slowly sits up. "You have a very interesting ceiling."
Rachel looks incredulously at Santana. "Is she drunk?" she asks, because that can't be. Rachel hasn't been gone that long. "Is she high?"
Santana just shrugs again.
Rachel moves to stand in front of Quinn, her palms pressing against the blonde's rosy cheeks. "Quinn, honey, are you okay? Are you having a stroke?"
Quinn lifts both hands, palms facing forward, and smiles widely.
"No stroke, then," Rachel says. "Are you messing with me?"
Quinn nods.
Rachel shakes her head in annoyed amusement as she draws Quinn into a hug, pressing the blonde's face against her abdomen for an inappropriately long time.
"Okay," Santana says, interrupting the extended moment. "I'm fucking starving. You guys can practice being fake girlfriends later."
Rachel grumbles something under her breath as she releases Quinn, and Quinn shoots Santana a dirty look, to which she just smirks. If she's going to have to deal with the aftermath of this atrocious plan, then she's going to have some fun with it.
The three of them shuffle to the kitchen, and Rachel starts removing the containers of food from their bags. "Animal carcass for you," she says, setting Santana's cheeseburger in front of where she's now sitting at the breakfast bar. "And, animal carcass for you." Quinn's is a New York Strip and roasted vegetables, and it's as if she doesn't even hear Rachel's complaints.
"And boring plant food for you," Santana snickers.
Rachel rolls her eyes as she moves to gather two plates for their food. Santana doesn't believe in using crockery, and Quinn won't eat her steak out of anything but a ceramic plate.
Quinn still has her glass from earlier, and she tops herself up with more iced tea, retrieves a can of Red Bull for Santana and then realises Rachel is probably just going to drink from her glass, regardless of what she gets for her.
Typical.
"Where are we eating?" Santana asks, popping a French fry into her mouth. "Here? Lounge? Bathroom?"
"Where haven't we cleaned yet?"
Santana rolls her eyes. "Does it matter? We're pitiful cleaners, Berry," she says. "Which is why we hire a maid's service."
Quinn raises her hand. "I don't," she says, entirely too smugly.
"That's because you're neat and tidy, and have much too much patience," Rachel points out.
"And you live alone," Santana adds.
Quinn shrugs. "Still."
Santana eats another fry. "You know, if anyone were to question which one of the two of us was the messier one, they would keel over to learn it's actually Rachel."
"I'm very busy," Rachel weakly defends.
Santana laughs. "I'm a medical student. I win."
Quinn just grins at them both, struggling to figure out what her life would be like without the both of them. She's so glad she gets to be a part of this.
"I don't know about you two," Quinn says; "but I'm going back to the couch." With that, she lifts her plate, glass and cutlery and heads to the living room. She sets everything on the coffee table, and then reaches for the remote to turn on the television.
"We're totally watching 1000 Ways to Die," Santana declares as she comes in, still chewing her latest fry victim.
"No, we're not," Rachel immediately argues. "We should watch Say Yes to the Dress."
Quinn takes it back. She's not glad at all. They bicker like old women in a nursing home, and Quinn is five seconds away from -
"Oh," Quinn says, clearly surprised by what she finds on screen. "Let's watch this."
And, really, neither brunette has a word to say about the choice of Bridesmaids.
Rachel considers herself lucky every rehearsal she gets through without Megan saying a word to her, and it lasts for exactly five days. It's obvious the redhead is… curious, and it's also obvious that she's mentioned to a few people that Rachel does, indeed, have a girlfriend.
Who is so ridiculously pretty and super smoking hot.
That's what Alec claims, at least, and Rachel wouldn't dream of correcting him, because Quinn is especially lovely to look at.
But, really, it's just Megan's word at this point, and Rachel's cast mates want more information on the elusive girlfriend Rachel has kept hidden from them (because she didn't really exist a week ago.)
"You remember that Tom is having a party Friday night for all the cast and crew, right?" Alec says, reminding Rachel and, inadvertently, Frankie about said party while they stretch out their bodies after a strenuous set of dance rehearsals. "You should totally bring your lady with. I know I'd like to meet her."
Rachel thinks she hides her panic well, but Megan - stupid, stupid Megan - must notice from where she's standing just behind Alec, and she attacks like a bloodhound.
"Unless she's otherwise engaged, of course," the redhead says. "I imagine Quinn is too busy to accompany you to something as unimportant as a cast party, right?"
Rachel clenches her jaw, and breathes out through her nose. "She is generally quite busy," she says; "but I'll still ask her and see what she says."
"How domesticated," Megan sneers.
"Yeah, and where's your significant other?" Frankie shoots straight back at her, and Rachel sends the man a mental thank you.
"Whatever," Megan says. "I look forward to seeing your girlfriend there."
"I'm sure you do," Rachel finds herself saying. "She asks about you from time to time."
And, okay, Rachel gets way too much satisfaction in seeing the way her eyes widen in panic for a moment.
"Oh, yeah?" Megan asks, recovering. "She looking to upgrade?"
Rachel laughs. "Sure," she says. "I tell her all about your endearing qualities and how well we get along. She knows exactly how much of a catch you are."
Megan scowls at her, and Rachel just continues to smile. "Whatever," she says again, and then stalks off.
"What a Grade A bitch," Frankie grumbles.
Rachel shoots him an amused look. "You're not too bad, Frankie Bonucci."
"Ain't that a winning endorsement."
When Quinn receives the text It's happening from Rachel late Wednesday evening, even she can't mistake the nervous flutter in her stomach.
She knows what's coming.
She's going to have to pretend to be Rachel's girlfriend in front of other people.
She's not ready for this.
Quinn: What exactly is happening?
Rachel: I'm coming over.
Quinn outwardly groans, tilting her head back for a long moment. It's not that she doesn't want to see Rachel; it's that she's already in her pyjamas and makeup-free and five seconds away from turning in for the night.
Even if it is just barely nine o'clock.
Quinn forces herself to get up from where she's sprawled across her very comfortable couch and takes her empty bowl from her dinner of broccoli soup to the kitchen. She washes it immediately, dries it, and then returns it to its rightful cabinet.
Next, she does a quick sweep of her apartment, checking for anything glaringly out of place or embarrassing on display.
Once she's satisfied, she throws herself back onto her couch, drapes the TV blanket over her body and settles in to wait for Rachel while she finishes up an old episode of Criminal Minds.
Derek Morgan has just apprehended the suspect when there's a knock on Quinn's door. Rachel has a key for emergencies, but she doesn't like to use it. She thinks it's an invasion of privacy, even though Quinn happily waltzes into the apartment Rachel shares with Santana whenever she wants.
Quinn opens the door to find a particularly dishevelled Rachel Berry waiting for her. "What happened to you?" is the first thing that comes out of her mouth.
"Well, hello to you too, Quinn," she grumbles, pushing past Quinn to get into the warmth of the apartment. She shivers as she stands in the centre of the living room.
Quinn closes the door slowly, her eyes on Rachel. "Hi," she says. "Do you want a blanket?"
Rachel shakes her head. "I'll take a hug, though."
Quinn willingly gives it, wrapping her arms around Rachel's tiny body and offering as much warmth as she can muster. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" she asks into Rachel's hair.
"Do you have soy milk?"
"Of course."
Rachel squeezes Quinn once more, and then releases her. She feels much warmer now, and she even moves to remove her coat, which Quinn immediately takes from her.
"Go to the kitchen," Quinn gently instructs. "I'll hang this up and meet you there."
Rachel does as she's told, starting to feel more and more settled with every second she spends in Quinn's presence. Quinn makes her feel safe, which is such a contrast from their high school days.
"Hey," Quinn says, coming in behind her and gently nudging her towards the breakfast bar. "What has you so lost in thought?"
"You."
Quinn's steps falter as she makes her way towards the stove. "Oh?"
"Just, you know, how I always feel better when I'm with you," Rachel says, sliding onto a stool and keeping her eyes on Quinn. "And, how that wasn't really the case when we were teenagers."
Quinn snorts, and it's still such a delicate sound. "Dude. If we're handing out understatements."
Rachel giggles. "I just - I'm glad I'm here."
Quinn's features soften, even as her heart starts to thud uncontrollably in her chest. "Something happened?"
Rachel sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands.
Quinn uses the opportunity to start on the hot chocolate, giving Rachel plenty of time to work through what she may or may not want to say. She won't push, because she recognises this is one of those times that Rachel came to her for a reason.
"Quinn, do you remember Regionals sophomore year when everything was falling apart and there was nothing we could do to stop any of it?"
Quinn glances at her. "I definitely remember Regionals, Rachel," she says, because it's the day she gave birth to Beth.
Rachel sighs again. "I'm, more or less, referring to the hopelessness we felt about the end of Glee," she says. "I think Beth was the only good thing to come out of that day."
"Isn't that day also the first time Finn told you he loved you?"
"Like I said," Rachel says; "Beth is the only good thing."
Quinn doesn't comment on that - she stopped saying things about Finn a long time ago - as she continues making their vegan hot chocolate. Quinn isn't really a fan, but she'll suck it up and drink it from time to time.
"I - I feel like that now," Rachel quietly confesses, and Quinn frowns in confusion. "I have this amazing part in this amazing show, and I know I earned it, but it all feels so… vulnerable. Like, it could get taken away at any second, and I keep having this nightmare that I'm going to get a phone call from the show's backers, and they're going to tell me they made a mistake and I'm actually the wrong choice. And the voice sounds oddly like Coach Sylvester."
Quinn stops what she's doing immediately, switching off the burner, and moves towards Rachel. She draws the brunette into another hug, resting her left cheek atop Rachel's head. For the longest time, she can't think of anything to say, because she knows she's had a part to play in Rachel feeling as if she's undeserving of the part she's earned.
Years of verbal abuse will do that to you.
Quinn would know, though that's not something she willingly talks about.
"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Then, "That Megan chick is really in your head, isn't she?"
Rachel sags against Quinn. "She just won't leave," she mumbles into Quinn's Yale sweatshirt. "She's relentless, cutting through everything I say and do, and it's like the producers are just waiting and watching to see if I buckle." She sniffles. "What if I do, Quinn? They already keep saying that they're taking a chance on me, a relatively young newcomer, and it's a huge risk putting an entire production on fresh shoulders. My entire career could be over before it starts if I mess this up."
Quinn runs a hand along her back. "You're under a lot of pressure, aren't you?"
Rachel just nods, her face pressed against Quinn's warm chest.
"Rachel?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me what you need," she says. "What do you need from me?"
Rachel shifts backwards, her wide eyes on Quinn's face. "I just need you," she says, and she's never meant words more than those in her entire life.
Quinn audibly swallows, her heart skipping a beat. She tries to keep her reaction under control, and she blinks a few times. "I assume Megan told the rest of the cast about me?"
Rachel nods, pinching the fabric of Quinn's sweatshirt between her fingers. "There's this party Tom is throwing on Friday for everyone involved in the production, and their significant others," she says. "They, umm, kind of invited you."
Quinn's smile is gentle. "More like demanded, huh?"
"Suggested."
"Commanded."
"Offered."
"Instructed."
Rachel grins at her. "Are you free?" she asks. "It's okay if you're not, of course, because I know how busy you are, and I wouldn't dream of taking you away from a prior engagement if you - "
"I'll be there," Quinn says, interrupting. "Of course, I'll be there. Apparently, one beatdown wasn't enough for this Megan character."
Rachel giggles. "I think she's genuinely afraid of you."
"Good."
Rachel reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind Quinn's ear. "Thank you, Quinn."
"For what?"
Rachel shrugs. "Does it matter?"
"I've learned, in the years we've known each other, to ask about apologies and thank yous," she says. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such gratitude?"
"You."
"Huh?"
"Thank you for being you."
"Oh."
Rachel smiles softly at her, and then winks. "Now, I think you promised me some hot chocolate."
Quinn is definitely in trouble.
Rachel: We have an emergency, Quinn.
Rachel: We don't have a back story.
Quinn rolls her eyes at what Rachel refers to as an 'emergency.' Honestly, Quinn was ready to run out of her tutoring session when Rachel's name flashed on her phone the first time.
Quinn: Fuck, Rach. You REALLY need to reevaluate your definition of an emergency.
Rachel: Where are you?
Quinn lifts her messenger bag from her desk and hangs it off her right shoulder. She's a little exhausted after the long week, and she's looking forward to her Friday afternoon nap.
Quinn: I'm headed home. Just finished up with tutoring.
Rachel: Oh, good. Meet me at the Starbucks that we both know has the BEST Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher in fifteen minutes.
Quinn groans, tilting her head backwards as if she's praying for patience.
Quinn: I'm tired, Rachel. I want to go home.
Rachel: It'll be quick. I promise.
Rachel: Please.
Quinn is such a goner; it's actually pathetic.
"You better be buying me one of those Berry Refresher things," Quinn says the second she sees Rachel's face. "I could be napping."
"We have so much to discuss," Rachel says, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the line.
"Feed me first," she says. "I want an almond croissant."
Rachel glances at her, clearly amused. "Is this what our relationship is going to be like? My buying you food?"
"Yes," Quinn grumbles. "You haven't even hugged me."
Rachel feels a smile spread across her face, and she pulls Quinn into a comforting hug that they both sink into. There's something so… natural about the way they just fit together, but Rachel's trying not to think about that too much.
When they get to the front of the line, Rachel orders for them both, adding on a vegan bagel for herself. She's not exactly hungry, but she's feeling nervous, for some reason, and she needs a distraction.
"You do realise it's freezing outside," Quinn says after Rachel's received her monetary change from the barista. "Why are we getting Refreshers?"
"Because they're so good," she offers as an explanation.
"True."
Rachel pulls Quinn off to the side, her eyes studying the blonde's face. "How was your day?" she asks.
"Exhausting," she says. "How's yours going? Do you have to be back at the theatre?"
Rachel nods. "We're doing a lot of blocking today," she says. "It's boring and everyone's kind of miserable, so there's a lot of excitement about Tom's party."
"Oh?"
"A lot of excitement about you, as well."
Quinn just smiles. "What have you told them about me?"
"Not much, to be honest," she confesses. "I've been purposefully vague, which has been driving them all crazy. It's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, though. What are we supposed to tell people when they ask about us?"
Quinn mulls that over in silence until they're seated at a table with their drinks and treats. She was halfway joking about the croissant, but she's relieved to have it. She can't remember if she actually ate lunch. Better not mention that to Rachel.
"I think we should stick to the truth as much as possible," Quinn eventually says, dabbing at the side of her mouth with her napkin. "That way, there's less of a chance of getting caught in a lie."
Rachel swallows. "Okay."
"I'm me," Quinn says. "I attend Columbia, am a Masters' student, all that spiel. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
"Of course not," Rachel immediately says. "They're going to be so insanely jealous of my super smart, Ivy League girlfriend."
Quinn's heart stutters, and she curses internally.
Rachel sips at her drink. "So, how long have we been together?"
Quinn leans back. "Rach, let's stop pretending you haven't already come up with every aspect of our fake relationship," she says, entirely too knowingly. "Just tell me what I need to know, and I promise I'll do my best not to mess this up for you."
Rachel reaches out for Quinn's closest hand, her fingers curling into Quinn's palm. "I just realised that I didn't even say please, when I asked you to consider doing this."
Quinn chuckles. "How rude of you."
"I know," Rachel says with a soft smile; "My dads would be dismayed at my lack of manners."
Quinn squeezes Rachel's hand. "So, tell me, how long have we been dating?"
"Coming up on three months," Rachel answers without hesitation.
"Okay."
Rachel takes a deep breath, and then proceeds to speak. "We went to high school together. We weren't exactly friendly at first, but we worked through our issues, sort of. It turns out that I've always had a secret crush on you, but I was never brave enough to tell you. We remained friends throughout college, and then you moved to New York, and I could no longer deny myself the shot at giving it a chance."
Quinn just listens in silence, her heart going a mile a minute.
"So, about three months ago, we were hanging out at your apartment, just watching TV, and I leaned across the couch and kissed you, and we've been dating ever since. Well, first we had a good, long talk, cried a little, and then we started dating, and we've both never been happier."
Quinn blinks, a certain hurt building in her chest. Because, honestly, it's something that could be true, and Quinn knows with absolute clarity that this entire pretend situation is going to ruin her.
"We decided to keep our relationship on the down low while it was still in its infancy because we're both in the same friend group, and we didn't want to shine a spotlight on our budding romance. Still, some of our friends don't yet know, but we're sure about where we stand now, and we spend most nights at your apartment."
"Why?"
"Santana is a nosy bitch."
Quinn arches an eyebrow.
"I'm also a screamer."
And, okay, Quinn can't stop the image from forming in her mind if she tries. It's embedded in her brain, and just the thought of Rachel out of control is enough to set her blood boiling. She sips at her drink to keep herself cool, but the image is almost too much to handle.
Rachel hums in thought, thinking over the next few sentences of their brief relationship history. "You're a hopeless romantic," she says, because her experience tells her that Quinn truly is, and she can't wait to be on the receiving end of it.
Even if it is all going to be pretend.
"I think that's all the important stuff," Rachel eventually says. "Though, I should ask how comfortable you are with PDA."
Quinn almost chokes on her drink. "Excuse me?"
Rachel shoots her a curious look. "As you know, I'm a… touchy person by nature. It's one of my love languages, so I'm probably going to be unable to keep my hands off of you tonight."
Abort.
Abort mission.
"Oh."
Rachel smiles at her. "It won't be any different to how we usually are," she says. "Just, you know, it might be more, in quantity. Don't worry. I'm not about to jump you."
Quinn can't shake the feeling that she would be entirely unopposed to such a thing happening.
Even though it might just kill her.
Rachel has been unprepared for many things in her life, and she's performed under undue stress numerous other times, but even she can't quite get a grip of herself as she waits for Quinn's text.
They agreed, when they parted ways after their brief coffee date, that Quinn would just meet her at Tom's place because Rachel left the theatre with her other cast members after they got ready together.
Patrice even helped her with her makeup.
Rachel can feel her body buzzing with nerves as she stands with Frankie, Alec and Kira in Tom's large living room, slowly sipping on her drink. She's tempted to down the strong liquid, just to help her get through the night, but she knows she has to be on her A-Game if she and Quinn are going to pull off being a couple.
She jumps slightly when her phone buzzes in her hand.
Quinn: I'm downstairs.
Rachel can't stop her smile.
Rachel: On my way.
Alec's grin turns almost predatory when he sees her face. "Is she here?"
Rachel's smile widens. "She's downstairs."
"Well, go get her," Alec says, shooing her slightly. "Don't keep her waiting."
As if Rachel would do such a thing.
With an added bounce in her step, Rachel slips on her coat, leaves the gorgeous apartment and heads to the elevator. She's excited and nervous and, even though she saw Quinn a few hours ago, she finds that she's missed the blonde.
Rachel finds Quinn standing just inside the building, casually chatting to the concierge about the weather, and her smile grows at the sight of her. It practically takes over her face when Quinn spots her and offers a smile of her own.
"Hi, Bradley," Rachel says to the concierge. "This lovely lady is with me."
"So she says," Bradley says, chuckling. "She tried to charm her way up."
Quinn pouts. "He's totally gay, though."
Rachel laughs. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
"Shut up," Quinn grumbles, and Rachel goes in to give her a hug and a kiss to the cheek. "Hi," Quinn says when Rachel pulls away.
Rachel beams at her. "Did you have a good nap?"
"When I eventually did get to it, yes," she mutters, and Rachel has to kiss her cheek again.
"I'm not sorry," Rachel murmurs.
"I got that."
Rachel rolls her eyes, and then looks at Bradley. "Are we good to go up?"
"By all means," he says with a knowing smirk. "Enjoy your night."
Rachel slips her hand into Quinn's to lead the way, and Quinn is the one to link their fingers. The action, itself, is enough to settle her nerves, and she's struggling to figure out what she was so worried about in the first place.
"Are you nervous?" Quinn asks once they're in the elevator, the doors closing behind them.
"A little," Rachel admits. "Tom is quite an important financier, and he has a lot of say in everything that happens with the production. A lot of the cast has been asking about you quite endlessly, and I worry about throwing us both in with the wolves, for lack of a better analogy."
Quinn squeezes her fingers. "It's going to be fine, Rachel," she says, and her tone brokers no argument. "If anything, we're just going to act like two really close friends who pay a little too much attention to each other."
Rachel giggles softly. "I had a thought that it's kind of like roleplaying," she says. "We're both, technically, actresses, and this is just an acting challenge."
Quinn blinks, ignoring the vicious pang in her chest. "Yip."
Rachel nods, putting her game-face on. "We've got this."
"Of course, we do."
Rachel squares her shoulders as the elevator reaches the correct floor. The doors open and Rachel steps out, pulling Quinn along behind her. The blonde's hand is warm in hers, even though she's just come in from the cold, and Rachel quietly marvels at that as they head towards the door to the large apartment.
Rachel pauses before she opens the door, her heartbeat slowing. "Quinn?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for doing this," she says.
"Anything for you, Rachel," Quinn immediately returns, and Rachel's sure her heart grows in size.
And then she opens the door.
Rachel wouldn't say the main living room falls silent, exactly, but there is a general hush that befalls the patrons, and she rolls her eyes internally. She hears Quinn chuckle softly behind her and, yeah, she really has nothing to worry about, does she?
Rachel helps Quinn remove her coat, which nobody is prepared for. Quinn is wearing a deep blue, form-fitting, sleeveless dress, and Rachel doesn't think she's seen the blonde look so stunning before.
It's understated.
All so minimal, and still so… mesmerising.
Powerful.
Quinn's short hair - she's kept it that way for years, giving off this look of regality - is hanging loose just above her shoulders, styled simply. Her makeup isn't dramatic. It's barely even there, merely to enhance, rather than dominate.
"Good God," Rachel murmurs.
Quinn looks at her. "What?"
Before Rachel can say another word, Alec is at her side. "Damn, Rachel, your girlfriend is fucking hot."
Quinn arches an eyebrow at the interruption, and Rachel flushes instantly, but neither woman truly acknowledges him. Rachel hangs up Quinn's coat, and then lets out a surprised sound when Quinn helps with hers.
And then there are arms around her waist from behind, warm and strong. She feels a press of lips against her cheek, and then the heat is gone.
She immediately misses it.
Quinn's hand is back in hers, and Rachel knows it's now show time.
Of course, because Alec is standing right there, she introduces him first, and his eyes flit between the two women as if he's trying not to imagine them in the throes of passion.
Rachel punches his shoulder, hard. "Stop being a pervert, and get us some drinks."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving a hand. "What would you ladies like?"
"Merlot," they say at the same time, and Alec's grin grows into a ridiculous smirk.
"Amazing," he says entirely too knowingly, and then practically saunters away.
Quinn looks at Rachel. "He's like a slightly more deranged Puckerman," she says, and Rachel laughs.
"I don't know if that's insulting to Noah or not," she says, and then tugs on Quinn's hand to get them moving. There are many, many introductions to be doled out.
It goes well, for the most part.
It's entirely too easy to gush about Quinn, whose hand leaves hers only to shake others in greeting. Quinn is so well spoken, attentive and focused, but the thing that truly seems to throw people is the sincerity behind her eyes.
With people as confident and assured as Quinn, they can come off as insincere, but everything about Quinn is genuine. Including the way her eyes constantly look at Rachel's face, as if she can't keep her gaze away for too long.
Quinn meets Rachel's directors and producers, the writers and other musicians and actors involved with the show. It's a whirlwind of names and faces and, if she's getting overwhelmed, the only way it manifests is in how tightly she holds Rachel's hand.
Rachel waits to introduce Quinn to Frankie, who's probably her favourite person involved in the entire production. They just… get along, and there's a tiny part of her that feels irrationally guilty about lying to him about Quinn.
Well.
"She's really my best friend," she tells him, and then smiles indulgently when Quinn's arm slides around her waist. It amazes her every time Quinn willingly touches her, fingertips pressed against her hip.
Rachel leans into her, because how can she not? This is a Quinn she doesn't normally get to experience, and she wonders how Quinn truly is in a real relationship. If she's this overwhelming when she's faking it, how does anyone survive the real thing?
Frankie asks all the standard questions about how they met and how long they've been together, and Quinn answers them flawlessly, even throwing in a joke about how she missed all the signs because Rachel is so short.
Frankie laughs when Rachel pokes Quinn in the ribs, and then he sighs dreamily when Quinn whispers an apology and kisses Rachel's hair with closed eyes. The action, itself, is beautiful. Simple.
And heartbreaking.
They're still talking when Tom joins them, his wife at his side. Rachel knows her as Denise, but everyone calls her Denny. Rachel tenses for a beat, but then relaxes when Quinn squeezes her lightly.
"Are you an actress as well?" Tom asks, and he's directing his question at Quinn.
"Technically, no," Quinn answers. "I Minored in it during my Undergrad, but I'm actually a writer, now."
"Oh?"
Quinn nods, her smile in place. "This one has been trying to get me to write about her for years," she says, tilting her head in Rachel's direction.
"You've known each other that long?" Denny asks, her eyes darting between the two of them.
"Since high school," Rachel answers for them.
Quinn nods. "We've definitely come a long way since then," she says, which draws curious looks from both Tom and Denny.
"Oh," Denny says, her eyes lighting up; "there's definitely a story there, isn't there?"
Indeed, there is.
It's easy to tell it, once they get started, talking over each other and filling in blanks as they fall seamlessly into the extended tale of their crazy relationship.
Because it's all truth, really.
Everything with Finn and, well, the baby. Everything with their parents and an almost-wedding and a near-fatal car accident and Rachel's almost-failed dream and Quinn's journey to finding herself.
It's all true.
This is the lie.
"And then, in a moment of what must have been insanity at the time, I just leaned over and kissed her," Rachel says.
"It definitely caught me by surprise," Quinn says, shaking her head with eyes shining with amusement. "I was terrified at first. It's not as if I didn't know she's this amazing, adorable person, but I just couldn't allow myself to entertain the idea of wanting her. She was finally my friend, and we had so much history that I still feel guilty over a lot of things that have happened between us, but…" she trails off, feeling her heart start to pound in her chest. It's all hitting a little too close to home. "I just couldn't deny it anymore," she finally says. "She wouldn't let me hear the end of it, even if I tried."
Tom and Denny laugh at that, but Denny has tears in her eyes, and Frankie is five seconds away from practically sobbing. He claims to be a metrosexual man, but Rachel knows better.
"But, I'm thankful every day that she's so stubborn," Quinn continues, careful not to look at Rachel's face. "It's one of the reasons why I love her."
Rachel's sure her body has forgotten how to function. Breathing and blinking just seem as if they aren't happening, but she knows she has to hold it together, because none of this is real.
But.
Rachel didn't know Quinn was such a good actress.
Because she's acting, right?
Denny reaches out to touch Quinn's forearm. "You should write that story," she says. "That's something I would definitely read."
"Or watch," Tom adds, smiling warmly.
Quinn chuckles, and it sounds… wet, as if she too is teary. "Maybe," she says, and there's something oddly melancholy about her tone. "One day. If she ever agrees to marry me, because it might go straight to her head, otherwise."
And, Denny laughs.
Tom, too.
Frankie's eyes are on Rachel, who hasn't spoken in a few minutes. She looks shell-shocked to him, lost in her own thoughts, and he wonders if she's ever actually heard Quinn talk about her that way.
Because, it's obvious.
It's obvious this is the first time Rachel has heard Quinn use the word love.
They don't encounter Megan until much later.
After Quinn has realised that Rachel has fallen silent and borderline unresponsive. After they've left Tom and Denny to mingle, and after Frankie excuses himself to find Jasmine and Khanh, two of their fellow cast members.
Quinn's arm slips from around Rachel's warm body, and she turns to face her fully, her expression pinched in concern. "Rachel?"
"Quinn," she breathes, and her eyes can barely look at the blonde's face. "You're beautiful, did you know that?"
Quinn frowns slightly. "Are you okay?"
Rachel waits a beat, before she's reaching up and snaking her arms around Quinn's neck, pulling her into a hug that she definitely needs. "You are so very beautiful," she whispers into Quinn's ear.
Quinn, sensing something severe, just hugs her back, her eyes closing at the simple act of just being able to hold this beautiful woman.
And, that's how Megan finds them.
"Something the matter?"
Her voice cuts into their moment like a blade, and both of them tense at the silky voice.
Quinn breathes out slowly, attempting to keep herself calm. She's confused over Rachel, worried she might have pushed this entire… situation too far, and now Megan.
Of course.
Quinn pulls back carefully, her left hand sliding down Rachel's back until it settles at its small. The touch is comforting to them both, and Quinn allows herself to turn her piercing hazel eyes on the unsuspecting redhead.
"Ah," Quinn says. "I was wondering when you were going to come out of the woodworks and show yourself."
Megan stares at Quinn for a moment before her gaze settles on the hand hidden behind Rachel's back. "So, it's true, huh?"
Quinn's fingers curl around the fabric of Rachel's dress, but she says nothing.
Rachel merely stares at her, suddenly unflinching, her eyes steady. "Was there something you wanted?"
"No," Megan says, practically sneering. "You have nothing I want."
And, Rachel laughs.
Like, properly laughs, loud enough to turn heads, and Quinn can't stop her smile because she's always loved that sound.
"Oh, Megan," Rachel says, bolstered by Quinn's presence; "you're a lousy liar." Rachel leans into Quinn's hand, and the blonde's arm promptly slides around her waist, once more. "I have everything you want, and you can't stand it. So, you're bitter and mean and borderline cruel, and you should know that it's not going to work. Not over here."
She forces herself to take a deep breath. "I've faced things far scarier than you, you know, and, maybe, one day, we can all look back at this fondly. Or, I will, at least, because, the longer you keep up with this attitude of yours, the higher the chances you fall right through the cracks and into obscurity. Do you really think people will want to work with you at all, if you keep this up? So, right now, I'm going to ask you to leave us alone, because you're actually acting like a frigid bitch, and I've dealt with enough of those for one lifetime, thank you very much."
Taking a page out of Quinn's book, she turns her head dramatically, and then rests her forehead on Quinn's sternum.
Quinn waits while Megan fumes, and then stalks off in a huff.
Quinn can't help her chuckle. "Remind me again why on earth you even needed me," she teases.
Rachel groans in embarrassment, but she doesn't move away. She'll happily stay right here, thank you very much.
Quinn almost doesn't hear Rachel's next words, but she does.
"I always need you, Quinn."
Screwed.
She's totally screwed.
