October 2016
"Blonde version of the White Stripes?" Rachel scoffs, glaring at the magazine in her hand while trying to balance her phone on her shoulder, "I mean, with all due respect to both of you, you and Sam sound nothing like them!"
"It's a compliment, Rach. Calm down." Quinn laughs, drinking her cup of coffee, which never ceases to bring a smile on her face- considering who got her into the habit in the first place, and watching as the trees pass by in a blur outside the window of her tour bus, "So, aside from your disapproval of that article, how've you been?"
"Well, I'm outraged that you guys are adding a bajillion more dates to your tour while simultaneously being proud of your success, but other than that, it's been okay." Rachel says, flipping the magazine closed, and Quinn thinks she heard her blow a raspberry at it.
"How was your last Maria?" She asks with a laugh.
"As heartbreaking and divine as always, but more so, because the love of my life was not there, so while completely devastated, I channeled the despair into my performance and powered through." Rachel says dramatically.
"Drama queen." She mutters, "I bet you cried afterwards, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't." Rachel says a little too quickly.
"Kurt sent me pictures." Quinn smirks knowingly.
"Whatever, the spot light was- yeah, I cried. It was the theater, I am allowed." They both laugh.
"So, how was the workshop you were telling me about?" Quinn asks after a minute of silence, with Rachel packing up her rehearsal bag, and Quinn rewriting a couple of lyrics on a piece of paper. "Did you guys set up for the theater yet?"
"Oh, yeah." Rachel sighs, "Well, there's been a minor inconvenience here and there, but it was okay."
"What do you mean?" Quinn asks, confused.
"Um, well, let's see, the male lead totally botched on us, and the new one is kind of maybe… Jesse St. James." Rachel says in a somewhat flustered voice.
"The clash of the divas." Quinn jokes, "Why is that an inconvenience?"
"Because— Quinn, I need you to be understanding, I am an actress, and as such, there are certain things expected-"
"Jesus, Rachel, spit it out." Quinn says, suppressing a laugh.
"There is a sex scene." Rachel says bluntly, but then she starts rambling because she can't help herself, too scared to give Quinn a chance to react. "It's been added to the script- I mean they keep polishing it up, it started as just heavy kissing and then it escalated to something more, and well, now it's just, you know, a sex scene."
"Okay." Quinn drawls, "Well, that's not so bad, it's a musical, how explicit can it be?"
"Kind of explicit." Rachel comments.
"What do you mean?" Quinn asks warily.
"Well, again, don't get mad, you have a very vicious jealous streak, which thank god I'm not a Hollywood actress, because with the amount of sexual content- I mean, you would have gone to jail for mass homicide."
"Seriously, just get on with it." Quinn sighs with a smile.
"You see, I have to kind of- how do I put this…" She pauses, "Basically, there will be some breast fondling."
"I can deal with that…." Quinn says roughly, her jaws clenched.
"It's all a bit risqué for Broadway, but that's what I love about the show, so you know, it's not that big of a problem." Rachel says, and Quinn senses the onset of a never-ending rambling session, "I would have never agreed to do a topless scene. I mean, it goes against my no nudity rule. But then again, the direction is so beautiful, and the director is so supportive-"
"Rachel, how exactly does the scene go?" Quinn cuts her off, having stopped listening at the mention of the word topless.
"I'm not at liberty to say, there's a confidentiality agreement, and I have to respect-"
"Rachel." Quinn says pointedly.
"Fine." She sighs, "There's some groping, a bit of kissing, and like um, god, umm- well, it's a sex scene, so like sex stuff- simulated, of course." Rachel assures her. "Don't be mad."
Quinn groans, she doesn't want to take this away from Rachel, it's her dream to originate a role, and she's not denying that the idea of having someone else touch her like that doesn't make her want to hurt things, but she lets it go for now, because it's not her place, and she doesn't want to be that type of girlfriend, although she is surprised Rachel is actually considering this, "It's fine, Rach. It's just, are you okay with doing this?"
"I admit I was skeptical at first, but after speaking with the writer, and reading the original story, it started to- I don't know, it just means a lot to me, and I'm hoping I can bring that understanding to the stage and hopefully make something beautiful out of it." Rachel says, sounding utterly passionate in what she was saying.
"Okay, but only if you're comfortable." Quinn says, brushing a hand in her hair.
"I am." Rachel says, not hiding the relief in her voice.
"Look, Rach, I have to go. We're here. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Quinn says hurriedly, "I love you."
"Love you too," Rachel replies, "Knock their socks off, Meg White!"
Later that day, Johnny- who Rachel had developed a very unusual friendship with, in the sense that they were so unlike each other, had invited her to one of his shows at this local bar, along with some of the cast as well. She wasn't the type of girl to be found at a bar, she hated them really. She didn't drink aside from the occasional wine or champagne for special occasions, and she didn't like crowded places- but she accepted the invite, and that's how she found herself with a drink Blake had recommended and bought for her while watching Johnny perform on stage with nothing but a guitar and his voice. He had an amazing voice- rough around the edges, deep on one end, soft on the other. It perfectly complimented the general melancholic feel to his music. She was feeling weird all week. She hasn't been getting any sleep. She figured she'd indulge in alcohol and friends for one day, and maybe it would distract her enough to get her out of her funk.
Three drinks later and she was literally floating- in her mind at least, in reality, she was stumbling over feet and people, being balanced on one side by Johnny, and the other by Lilli. "I think she's done for the night." Lilli laughed.
"I didn't peg you for a lightweight, Rach." Johnny chuckles when Rachel starts playing with the hem of his shirt.
"Have I ever told you how awesome you are?" Rachel slurs.
"Repeatedly." He says, leading her to the booth where their other friends sitting. He looks out to the makeshift dance floor for a familiar face, spotting him, he yells, "Hey, Kurt- your girl is out."
Kurt is too busy grinding himself into Blaine to hear his name being called.
"Geez, are any of you sober?" Johnny turns to look at the table, with everyone laughing and not paying him any attention. He sighs, taking in Rachel's sleepy form. "Come on, let's get you home-"
"No, no, no- I'm staying awake." Rachel drones, "Sleep is bad." She says quietly.
"I hate drunk people." He groans, "How about we get some coffee in you, sober you up?" He says, offering his hand.
"I love coffee." Rachel smiles dreamily, "Quinn hates coffee. But she likes my tongue. And my tongue likes coffee. So Quinn likes coffee."
Johnny can't help the light chuckle, "Up you go then," he lifts her off the chair, "I know a place…"
Johnny's apartment wasn't that far away, an approximately five minute walk on a normal day. But managing a drunken mess of a girl escalated it to about fifteen minutes, with Rachel repeatedly stopping whenever she saw flashy lights, which considering the city they were currently walking in, was basically every inch or so.
When they finally got to his apartment, Johnny gave Rachel a bottle of water, "Drink." He ordered. "You need your fluids. One cup of water for each cup of coffee… which you're going to need a lot of." He says with a smile, walking over to the small kitchen and preparing a full pot of coffee. No more than five minutes later, and he had two cups of coffee in his hand, handing one over to Rachel before sitting down.
Rachel took a sip, before looking up at him, "Thank you."
He smiles, grabbing the TV remote, "You're welcome…"
Once the caffeine sets in, or rather, when she decided to sober up- she has that kind of will power, or so she tells herself- she takes in his apartment. It very much embodied his personality- it was spacious, but the walls were lined with bookshelves, and piled to the brim, some even stacked onto the side, under a modest television, and on the coffee table. It reminded her of Quinn. She loved her books. There was an old record player on the side, and that's when she realized that that bookshelf was actually filled with records. There was a Kayak leaning on the one empty sliver of wall in the corner, skis, and an oversized parka. It was a comfortable atmosphere- very homey.
"Why do you have that?" Rachel asks him, motioning to the kayak with her head.
"There's this place over at Greenwich Village." Johnny answers, flipping through the channels, "They've got all these adventurous type stuff- I like going there. I figured buying my own equipment would save some money."
"Like what?" Rachel asks curiously, crossing her ankles and leaning against her knees.
"Skiing, kayaking, umm, archery…" Johnny counts, his head tilted as he tries to recall some more, "You know, that kind of stuff."
"Seems fun?" Rachel says unsurely.
He laughs loudly, "It's not everyone's thing, I guess. But it helps, you know, to let go and stuff."
Rachel seems confused by his answer, "Doesn't singing do that?"
"To some extent, I guess." He answers honestly, "But sometimes I need a break. I mean, it's different- with singing… it's cathartic. And the other stuff, it's just… it feels nice not to have to think or feel, you know, just do. Nothing beats a good burden free adrenaline rush."
"That sounds nice." Rachel sighs, still somewhat inebriated, "I think I'd like that."
"You could tag along." He offers, with a shrug and a kind smile, "I usually go on Mondays. They're always my day off when I'm doing shows, so it turned into sort of a thing." Johnny explains as he settles on the Discovery channel.
Rachel perks up, somewhat curious, and a little excited, "You don't mind?"
"Not when in good company." He winks playfully.
"Okay then, count me in." Rachel smiles, sinking into the couch more fully, "Hey, Johnny?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?" Rachel asks hesitantly.
"Sure."
"Why are all of your songs so sad?" She asks quietly.
He sighs, in a way that suggests that he's asked himself that question many times before, "I don't know."
"Did someone… I mean, are they about someone?" She asks hesitantly.
"Not really." Johnny sits up, laughs a little, and then says, "My mom used to always say I was born with a broken heart."
Rachel bites her lip, not wanting to say anything that might come off the wrong way, and settles for, "That's sad."
"It's sort of true." Johnny says honestly, "I've never had a reason to be unhappy, but I am. But I'm also not unhappy either. I'm just… I don't know. It's weird."
"So where do you write your songs from?" Rachel didn't know why she was asking all these questions, but there was something about the way Johnny carried himself that she thought she could feel in herself.
"I read a lot. It's sort of a religious experience for me, I get lost in the characters and stuff, and a part of me feels entitled to their thoughts, and I draw from that I guess." Johnny says, before refilling both their cups.
"I think you'd like Quinn." Rachel smiles, "You guys are a lot alike."
"I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult." Johnny laughs jokingly.
"It's the best compliment ever."
Rachel meets up with Jesse the next day for lunch. They've just placed their drink orders when Jesse looks over at her, "Look, Rachel…" He sighs, "I know we patched things up along time ago, but if you're uncomfortable with the scene, you can talk to me. I think if we're just, you know, honest with each other, it'll make things a lot easier."
Rachel smiles up at him, "I'm fine with it, honestly."
"For real?" He asks hopefully.
"For real for real." She assures him. "I am an actress, I'd do it even if I hate your guts- which I don't. We're friends now. I've already forgiven you, stop beating yourself up about it."
"It's just weird, given our history." Jesse laughs weakly, "All the things I did to you, the thing I almost took from you…" He trails off sadly.
"Channel that into your character, and we're even, okay?" Rachel reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently, "The better my male lead, the better my chance at winning a Tony." She adds with a laugh.
Jesse returns the laugh with his own, "A Tony, huh?"
"Mhhhm." Rachel looks back at her menu, more relaxed now that Jesse was at ease. And just like that, they were okay.
Rachel sat in the deep cushioned armchair Michael usually had on the stage whenever he was in the middle of a rewrite or waiting on yet another mind blowing epiphany. Jesse was leaning against one arm, both of them studying the way you could actually see the wheels in Michael's mind were turning. He was pacing the floor, a beautiful mosaic of trees and flat stones the color of brown leather, orange, yellow—"End of act one, let that be the end of the…um, foreplay." He gestures to them awkwardly, "Act two will start off with the heavy stuff." He takes a deep breath, "I'm not sure how I want to do this… I'm gay, I've never really had sex with a woman."
"How about we just, you know, just wing it?" Jesse suggests. "We'll follow the dialogue with whatever feels natural…"
"Yeah, and you could adjust the scene accordingly." Rachel adds, giving Jesse a supportive bump in the shoulder.
"Okay." Michael lights up, digging into his pocket for something, "I do have a picture though… for you, Rachel. Something to build on."
Rachel takes the picture he offers, a slight gasp escaping her lips as she takes in the picture- it was an erotic photo of this gorgeous woman in a lace bridal gown with a sort of gothic feel to it, she was bending down, and lifting her dress over her thighs, "I don't-"
"No no no no." Michael shakes his head, laughing lightly, "Don't read too much into it, I just want you to put it in mind."
Jesse peers over her shoulder, "She's hot."
"She's beautiful." Rachel breathes out, suddenly overwhelmed.
"That's what I meant- not you, Jesse." He dismisses Jesse with a grimace as he lifts his hand for a high five. He puts a hand on Rachel's shoulder, peering over it, and pointing at the picture in her hand, his fingers outlining the woman's silhouette. "The style, seemingly pornographic, hits you with a passion rather than a vulgarity. That's what I want." He says, pulling back and walking towards the center of the stage, "This isn't a sex scene; bodies clumping together, or something to settle a romantic aspect to the show. It's love, just love. That's what you need to show me, and everybody else in this theater."
Rachel doesn't look up right away, taking a second to soak all of this in, and then with a nod, she smiles, "Okay."
"Jesse, you giant oaf. Don't ruin this." Michael warns, sensing Jesse's oncoming crude remark.
"I was just going to say-"
"Shush." Michael shoots him a glare, "I can read your mind… unsanitary place that it is." Jesse actually pouts when he's silenced for the second time in less than a minute. "Rachel, darling, I have no doubt that you can convey the emotion required for this, but please, I beg of you, teach this hooligan your ways."
"I am literally standing right here." Jesse states, crossing his arms against his chest.
"I can see that. Thank you Jesse." He enunciates as if speaking to a child, even adding a sweet smile at the end, "He has the voice and the look, but god almighty, I need you to hurt him- break him in some way. He's too much of a plastic doll."
"Honestly, why did you cast me?" Jesse asks, this time visibly offended.
"If I'm being completely honest, we were desperate." Michael exhales, but quickly reassuring him, "Not that you're not talented. It's just that Rachel has upped the standard just a little, and- well, again, if I were being honest, if it were anyone but Rachel, you would have been splendid. I just need you two to be at the same level, all right?"
"Fine." Jesse huffs with another well established pout.
"Thank you, Michael." Rachel smiles shyly.
"No, problem." He winks, "Now lie down. Let's see how the hetros do it."
By November, both Rachel and Jesse had taken to spending every waking minute with each other, in an effort to establish a more comfortable relationship for their characters. They built off each other, with Jesse giving her a confidence in her body, and Rachel brushing some of that narcissism off his personality.
They were in the middle of going over the closing scene when Kurt interrupts them with a kiss on Rachel's temple, and a snarky comment to Jesse, "Rachel, darling, once you're done with this maple glazed hooligan, Blaine and I were thinking about going down to that new contemporary museum down by Bowery, would you like to join us?"
"Oooh, I read about that!" Rachel folds her script, lifting her head to give her full attention to Kurt, "It's not your typical painting gallery, they have these little activities that alter your perspective—and oh! Jesse that would be perfect for you!"
"No." Kurt shakes his head, "Egg nazi is not coming."
Jesse ignores him with a roll of his eyes, turning to Rachel, "I thought you said I was better."
Rachel pats his thigh, "I did. But a little perspective never hurt anyone."
"Never mind. I retract my invite." Kurt says, glaring at Jesse.
"Kurt, don't be like that." Rachel sighs, "Besides, I don't want to be a third wheel."
"Honey, if anything, Blaine is the third wheel." Kurt waves his hand, obviously annoyed, "That man, while devilishly handsome, is a bore. I mean, for a self obsessed modern day Gene Kelly, he has an under appreciation for art."
"Be that as it may-"
"Okay, fine, he can come." Kurt cuts her off with a groan, "I can exercise my name calling talents."
"Gee, thanks." Jesse says sarcastically.
"YAY!" Rachel jumps up, giving Kurt a kiss on the cheek, "I'm going to go get my stuff." Her phone vibrates in her pocket as she heads backstage. As she fishes it out of her pocket, she sees it's a text from Santana- she's always excited by the carbon copy texts she receives that keep her in the loop of Quinn's other life. But just as she reads the contents, a frown discolors her face, and all of a sudden, she's dialing Quinn's international phone number.
"Europe?" Rachel asks, completely flabbergasted.
"I know!" Quinn says disbelievingly. "I mean, for the European dates, we're still only an opening act, but still. It's big."
"Aww baby, I'm so proud of you!" Rachel squeals, "Sad that you're leaving me, but equally proud!"
"You could come with me, you know?" Quinn says hopefully, "It's just for a few months. You have no shows going on right now, it's perfect."
"Q, you know this workshop is important to me. And you know you won't be able to live with me knowing that I'll be a miserable grumpy old fart constantly complaining about missing the chance to open up my own show in a pool of my own regret stricken tears." Rachel says seriously, grabbing a towel and wiping the back of her neck. "Plus, your fans already hate me enough as is."
"Sometimes I miss your theatrics." Quinn sighs, "And not all of them are that bad, come on."
"I have bookmarked a few fan sites for you, they are relentless and downright cruel. They're bloodthirsty, Quinn, they'll have slit my throat, stolen my vocal chords, and bathed in my blood by New Years." Rachel says gravely.
Quinn laughs, "Stolen your vocal chords?"
"They may be evil, but they have good taste." Rachel says, her hands rubbing her throat.
"Anyway, babe, I'm going to be in New York for a few hours next week before leaving to Europe, please wear something skanky and wait for me in bed, yeah?" Quinn says, sounding more desperate than flirty.
"A few hours?" Rachel repeats sadly, "You're leaving me for six months and all I get are a few hours? Santana is a sadist. Why did you let her be your tour manager?"
"She's one of your best friends, she's not doing this to you; she's doing this for us." Quinn tells her, clearly amused by Rachel's accusations, but trying to reassure her all the same.
"I highly doubt that." Rachel scoffs.
"Love you, baby." She coos.
"Yeah right." Rachel says, the eye roll somehow audible. "See you next week," she adds sweetly, "for a few hours."
Rachel is fluttering around her apartment, playing with some stuff in the kitchen, and for a second, she considers trying to cook something, but Quinn has repeatedly told her she's not allowed to do that without supervision, but then again, she wasn't here and she wasn't going to starve. She eyes the kitchen again, but a sound in the living room catches her attention. She walks over, sees the door to the apartment open, and is about to scream when she sees a head of messy blonde hair, looking completely ravenous, stalking towards her, "Quinn, you're-"
Quinn is on her in an instant, latching her lips to the first patch of skin she could find, and gradually finding her way to Rachel's lips, her hands caught in a whirlwind- touching every part of Rachel's body she could, almost as if time itself was slipping between her fingers, and she only had a few seconds to imprint the memory of her body before it left her forever. She hears Rachel gasp, feeling the brunette's ribs poke her as if they were telling her she was going to die if she didn't get a breath in. Quinn lowers her head, her tongue slipping to lick a trail across Rachel's jaw, her lips focusing on that spot behind her ear, loving the way Rachel's moans sounded from this angle.
"Quinn, baby, breathe." Rachel says in a throaty voice, a gasp escaping her lips when Quinn bites down too harshly, but quickly turning into a moan as she feels her tongue brush across it soothingly.
"No," Quinn tells her, looking at her for a few seconds, before she pushes her against the wall, holding her in place with her hips, and continuing her attack on her lips, Quinn's voice is muffled against skin when she says, "I need you more."
"Tell me we'll never get used to it." Quinn breathes out, her lips brushing over Rachel's shoulder. "Me leaving."
Rachel turns her head, lips meeting with lips, hands to cheek, and kisses her deeply. "We won't."