Chapter 20: Coco and Igor
A/N: Wow you guys are back. I hope your having a great summer or fall (australians!). Thank you for all the love, I love you back!
The song in the first part is Force MD's Tender Love. My Little beta hates the song but she still endures my idiocy. Isn't she a darling?
Previously: We welcomed Kurt and Santana to the house of fun(Naomily reference).
'Here I lay all alone
Tossin', turnin'
Longing for some of your, tender love'
A hot mouth descends upon waiting lips, gently pushing them open.
'I'm waitin' for the right moment to come
So I can thank you for,
All the tender love you've given to me'
A low whimper wisps out as a liquid tongue welcomes an eager one to play.
'Tender love (Tender love)
Love so tender
Holdin' me close to you
Baby, I surrender'
Hands mirror tongues as they idly glide among secret grooves, between valleys where they feel like they've belonged for ever.
'Candles they light the dark,
Now I see how
lovely, the feelings are
All the tender love you've given to me'
Hips – oh hips – rock back and forth in an unhurried pace with soft thighs acting as steady cushions to the dreamy motions.
'And I want you more and more
(can't resist you)
oh and I feel your touch
Tender love'
Down below, love stains gradually get bigger as movements slightly quicken but hands fall on shoulders and urge to reduce the pace to an almost procrastinating slowness.
'And you're loving me straight from the heart
(hold me nearer)
please let me be a part
of the tender love you've given to me'
Finally, when mind and heart can no longer take in any more raw heat two heads bow down atop slick shoulders as tiny explosions blossom behind closed eyes.
'Please let me be the one.'
"Rachel?" Kurt has been trying to get his friend's attention for good 5 minutes but, it seems that Rachel Berry, Broadway baby, Barbra worshipper and self-professed ingénue, is out of this planet at the moment. "Rachel?" He repeats and pulls at one of the tiny white earbuds that Rachel had attached to her ear. That makes Rachel stand straighter. The book she had gripped in her hand falls to the floor.
"Huh? What? Yes?" Rachel picks the book she was supposed to be reading and places it on the coffee table.
Kurt rolls his eyes at his clearly distracted friend. "I have been talking to you for the last minute. I want your opinion on the music that I will be using for my next concept video. Where have you been?"
"Where have you been?"
Blood rises to Rachel's face and blooms on her cheeks at Kurt's inquiry. "I...uh... I was lost in a song." Not just a song. The song. It had been playing last night when she and Quinn were in their waterless bathtub playing around.
The blonde had a writer's block so she retreated to the bathroom. Her online job got an upgrade – she no longer just does rewrites, but actually writes articles now. She propped in some pillows on the tub, lit up a few scented candles, and put on some slow songs. They're going to help summon her lost word weaving skills, she said. Rachel eventually got bored and joined her girlfriend. She sat quietly on the toilet seat lid reading 'Coco and Igor' – the book about Coco Chanel and her lover Igor Stravinsky was a gift from Kurt. Everything was just dandy until Rachel felt eyes on her. She looked up to see Quinn studying her with hooded eyes, lowered her book and offered a smile, but Quinn ignored her and returned to tap-tapping on her laptop. The tapping stopped, she looked up again and caught Quinn licking her lower lip, crooking a beckoning finger at her. It might have been the candles or the songs, but the next thing she knows, they're on the tub, down on two pieces of clothing, while the book and the laptop lay forgotten on the floor.
It was perfect if not for one of the candles falling on Rachel's book, creating a blaze.
Kurt had to shake Rachel to get her back to Earth. "Jesus Christ, Rachel. You can't blame some song this time because I yanked the damn things off your ears years ago." Kurt picked up the book, face lighting in recognition. "Is this the book I gave you? It looks... damaged. If I didn't know any better I'd think you are..." Rachel watches as her best friend marvels at the burnt pages. "...in love."
"Quinn and I are just good..." Friends? That would be lying. "We're a great team."
The long calculating look Kurt gives her is a scorcher. "I wasn't really thinking about Quinn since you told me at Thanksgiving that you are just a pretend couple but now I am not sure."
Rachel makes herself smaller and speaks in an even smaller voice even though they are a considerable distance away from the other patrons of 'The Buzz'. "We are still viewed as a couple at NYADA, so I'd appreciate if you keep that quiet."
As an answer, Kurt huffs and returns to working on his Polyvoresque video. "Santana has been asking me questions about Quinn." He finally quips.
Two wide eyes focus on him. "Oh. That does not relate to me." Rachel pretends to be absorbed in her book.
"Uh huh. It does if she thinks Quinn is, as she crudely puts it, humping you." The book sails, narrowly missing Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair. "Rachel, what the hell?"
"I'm sorry." Rachel hurries to retrieve the book she's thrown. "Why would she think that?" She returns to their table to sit beside Kurt on the loveseat.
"I don't know? Maybe the fact the two of you are constantly on each other's space? Or maybe the way Quinn goes berserk whenever Santana insinuates that you should just move in at Bushwick with us. She even came up with that bull about mid-semester admission at NYADA just to piss Quinn off. That girl is on to you."
Rachel rubs at her temple. "Quinn and I are just dedicated to our roles as an enamored NYADA couple, Kurt. It's not our fault that we are too convincing."
"You should just tell Santana about the pretend couple thing. She's a friend after all. I think she's peeved at the thought that the both of you might be keeping something from her."
"She might mention it and blow our cover. I don't fully trust her like I do you."
The declaration seems to soften Kurt up. "Aw, thanks Rachel. I can't believe I'm saying this, since I used to hate your guts, but I'm really glad we are friends."
Rachel lays her head on Kurt's shoulder. "I am too. Now, how about that video?"
Santana is exhausted. Her mornings are spent standing around greeting people in short shorts and a tank top at that misplaced surfing retail store, Surf York, somewhere in Brooklyn. Who wants to wear tank tops in New York? How does it feel to be a model? Answer: COLD. Her afternoons are freed for auditions and running unglamorous evenings are spent at the gym and then after dinner, alone, with Kurt, or whoever, she naps so that she won't drop dead while cage dancing. Dancing is not her thing to be completely honest, singing and acting are. However, for her to get a gig as a sultry lounge singer in a swanky hotel or a maybe at MGM a la Celine she needs to be discovered first. She's auditioned for so many bars, and got turned down as many times, that she's lost count. Ok, not that invested in dreams but it's worth a try. If only she could do both of her current jobs full time she would gladly kiss her so-called-dreams goodbye because she would be somewhat set, but given she's only doing one set of cage dancing(the boss says she's an amateur) and only four hours at Surf's, things are looking down. Someday she'll roll in money, but for the time being the $75 per set in cage dancing plus the $9 per hour of standing around in underwear will have to do.
New York life is expensive; even Rachel Berry, the poster child of hovering-parenting, has a job as a singer at that stupid NYADA bar 'Callbacks'. Santana is not jealous – maybe a little – but not in an 'I-will-put-snakes-in-your-boots' kind of way. Ok, to be truly honest, maybe a bit.
She has to admit that this isn't really how she imagined this move to New York would be. If real life is this hard, then she has to think of some plan to fall back on in case her singing career does not push through. Talk about pushing, she pushes open the door to reveal her friends who seem to be in a real festive mode.
"Santana!" Rachel squeals as the brunette engulfs her in an enthusiastic hug.
"Somebody's hammered this early?" She checks her wrist watch for the time: 6:45 p.m.. Rachel is rambling about not being drunk, about not even having a drink at all. "Gets off me Berry. I came from the gym, so I'm not huggable right now." She strolls to their food laden table and snags a slice of pizza. "What's the occasion?"
"I can't believe this." Quinn stands from her usual haunt near the window. "I texted you, Santana. You never check your phone."
The accused fishes her phone from her gym bag. Indeed, there are 5 messages from Quinn and an equal number of missed calls from Rachel. She listens to Quinn ramble on and on about how she's a bad friend. "Tubs, you need to chill and stop hanging around Rachel so much, you sound just like her. I'm sorry if I was busy working my ass off that I missed your Spring Commencement." She can't believe it's already May, one NYADA term down and she's still a cage dancer/greeter. Everyone else seems to be moving forward. Kurt's been promoted from coffee buyer to scarf buyer at his stupid dot com job. Rachel's has starred in an off-off Broadway show about some derelicts in WW2. Quinn is... still Quinn, so Santana's not really worried she'll be left behind.
Quinn rolls her eyes and sits next to Rachel at the table. "Just hurry up so we can eat."
"Yes mami." Santana throws her wet gym towel at a reclining Kurt. He is, as usual, busy with his new tablet – courtesy of his good office.
"Hi Santana." Kurt, obviously used to Santana's rudeness in the short months of living together, casually throws the towel back. "I got another goody bag from the office. Needless to say, you have a new Grapefruit and Guava body wash waiting for you at the bath. So, run along and you're welcome."
"Thanks Kurt. You are the best person to come home to. Too bad you're gay. We could have beautiful chocolate porcelain babies together."
"I'm gay? Offensive." She hears Kurt cry out in mock shock.
Not long after they are seated around their newly acquired table. Santana bought it from a vintage shop and it got Kurt swooning. Sometimes Santana feels like a husband coming home to a perky wife.
"I got approached by a talent scout on Times Square this afternoon." Quinn casually mentions over some desert. "Or at least he says he's a scout." Santana watches as her friend and former cheer captain hand a card to a wide-eyed Rachel.
Rachel's hand, Santana notes, is shaking as she receives the card. "It's a really businessy looking card Quinn." Rachel observes a little dumbly.
"I'm not buying it." Quinn scoffs. "He could be some seedy lowlife out to take pictures of ladies to pin it in his seedy little wall."
"He took your picture?" Santana squints as Rachel pulls her chair closer to Quinn's. Quinn, in turn, drapes her arm behind Rachel's chair. Their dynamic is so familiar now that Santana had given up on teasing them. "He could be real Quinn."
"Could be." Shrugs the indifferent blonde.
"Did you give him your contact number?" Kurt is now seating on the edge of his seat.
"Yes. Now, I'm bracing myself for midnight calls. Maybe he's a telemarketer."
"Or those phone sex guys." The comment from a smiling Santana earns her a hard glare from Quinn.
"I'm gonna google his name; maybe he's got a twitter or some social media of some sort." Phones get flipped out as the card gets passed around the table.
"I got a Click model agency hit." Kurt passes his phone across the table to an eager Rachel.
"I got a homeless pedo hit." Santana ducked just in time to avoid a flying table napkin courtesy of Quinn.
"That's not comforting. I am not looking to be a model." Pouts Quinn.
"You're much prettier and talented than all models." Three eyebrows rise at that. Rachel shrugs nonchalantly. "What? It's true."
"Let's just forget about this, ok? Stories about being discovered while moping around in the street is a myth anyway." All of them aren't really believing it.
The incessant buzzing is irritating Quinn. It has been a few days since she's back in Lima for a short break till the next term. Days were spent catching up with her Mom. So far, she had endured three book clubs, two church meetings and one AA counseling. Judy is still not well from her alcohol addiction but she's getting there and Quinn is sort of glad she's part of the process.
"Baby, are you gonna get that?" Murmurs a still fuzzy Rachel – still fuzzy at 9 AM because Quinn had disabled the grating 6 AM alarm last night. It's the first time they're in the same bed since they set foot in Ohio and Quinn is planning on making the most of this opportunity. Surely they still have to be careful because Quinn's mom is just a wall away.
"Nope." She rolls towards the stretching Rachel and plants a kiss on her warm cheeks.
"But it's irritating. If it's Santana tell her to..." Rachel ponders for a while. "...suck a hot one."
"Wow. Where did you learn that?" Blonde hair falls to Rachel's face when Quinn hovered over her.
"I did my research. I can't just let Santana one up on me on the insult department."
"Maybe you should stop talking about Santana and talk dirty to me instead." The sly grin that Quinn is wearing just melts Rachel inside. The persisting buzzing; however, is getting too dragged out to ignore.
"Answer that phone first, Quinn, please."
"Fine, fine." Before going for the phone, Quinn reaches for a hair tie and tames her longish blonde hair into a Cheerio-style high pony.
Rachel watches her girlfriend listen carefully to somebody on the other line. Quinn is chewing her lips and taking down notes. Her brows are threatening to meet in concentration. When the call eventually ends, Quinn just sits by the window and stares the words she'd written on a piece of paper.
"Quinn, is everything ok?"
"That was Scott, the scout, he said he's got an audition for me in New York next week for a TV show."
"He did?"
A smile slowly stretches Quinn's face. "He did."
Rachel squeals an ear splitting one out of pure delight as she comes flying into Quinn's arms. "Oh my, sweetie calm down. It's just an audition."
"First audition, baby." Success, or in this case a possibility of success, is really turning Rachel on. She showers Quinn's face with kisses until finally she captures her laughing girlfriend's mouth in a searing kiss.
The door suddenly creaks open revealing a worried looking Mrs. Fabray. "Girls, is everything ok here? I heard somebody scream..." Her gaze falls on the wide-eyed Quinn who's frozen and to an equally frozen Rachel inside Quinn's embrace. "What's going on?"
Rachel recovers faster than Quinn and runs to give Judy an enthusiastic hug. "Quinn got an audition. Her first, Judy. Isn't that exciting?"
Judy opens her arms towards her daughter and a shy Quinn steps inside them. She and Rachel are ensconced in Judy's embrace. "That's great, Quinn. I'm happy for the both of you." Quinn bursts into tears.
"Check the venue first Quinn. If it's residential or anything other than a studio, it's probably a scam. If they won't take your own headshot and insist on having their photographer take your pic, that's a scam. If they, in any form, ask you for monetary fee or a fee of any sort, that's a scam." A deep breath and then - "If they ask you to perform anything that involves discarding articles of clothing that's most likely prostitution, so you run."
Quinn smiles at Rachel's mile-a-minute reminders. "Yes dear. I'll have Santana with me so I'll use her as human shield." This earns her a tutting from Rachel.
"Quinn?"
"Yes?"
"I love you." Rachel enunciates the words shyly. Saying the words aloud feels so good. She somehow feels better now that one of their parents knows about it. Surprisingly, Judy took the news well, as if she knew all along.
"I love you too. You have no idea." Quinn breathes to the receiver.
"I wish I were there." A forlorn sigh wisps over the phone.
"You have your own auditions. I wish I were there. Break a leg, ok? I'm sure you'll blow them away with the piece you have prepared. You certainly blew me through the wall." They had rehearsed together the night before. Quinn patiently sat through and critiqued Rachel's monologue and song choices for her 'Funny Girl' audition. Rachel did the same for Quinn; she insisted that Quinn prepare a song even though Scott said she won't need to sing. Then, after rehearsing, they made slow love for good luck.
"Well I certainly did blow you." She hears Rachel chuckles lowly.
"Golly, shut up." A hand flies to Quinn's face as she covers her embarrassment. Rachel went down on her for the first time last night. It was heaven but it doesn't mean they could just talk about it in public. She hugs the phone to her chest before bringing it up again. Two can play this game. "Do well in your rehearsal and I'll blow your mind out of this planet tonight." Then she hangs up.
"Quinn, number 14 just went through the door. You better stop flirting with Berry and get in the zone." Santana broadcasts as she jogs to her blushing friend.
"I wasn't..." Quinn starts but changes her mind. She marches on past Santana while she pins a tiny number plate, with the number '15', more neatly in her shirt's breast pocket.
"Yeah, yeah. Your freaky sex life is none of my business."
Santana tucks her own number plate in her belt. This is a cattle call so everyone can take a stab at it. Although Santana has to admit that Quinn's resume is a bit impressive. Who knew that the girl had attended that many dancing, singing, writing and acting workshops? Santana's jaw dropped when she surreptitiously read Quinn's resume. It was stapled at the back of the headshot she left in her seat, it was begging to be read, ok? Plus all the plays she acted in while in high school and now at NYADA. Turns out that the bitch had been going to Columbus to star in obscure theater productions. Also, she's got some stints as a model for the magazine American Cheerleader and even extra-ed as a commercial model for some deodorant in a series of TV adverts. She examines her own resume, her experience is only one-fourth that of Quinn's. It doesn't matter; they're not going for the same parts anyway.
When Quinn finally comes out of the audition room she's wearing an expression that Santana can't read. However, she's got no time to dwell on it because her number is being megaphoned in a small hallway by the director's obnoxious personal assistant.
The summer term is starting out slow. With classes filled with theories and histories, no actual dancing, singing, or acting is going on. The study hall is so sleepy even the sound of book pages gently being turned can be heard. That is why when Quinn's phone starts blaring out about strawberries, cherries and angel kisses she's consequently thrown out.
"Somebody doesn't appreciate Nancy Sinatra." She murmurs under her breath before answering her phone. From the corner of her eye she sees Rachel coming closer holding a hot cup of coffee, smiling like she's seen the Second Coming. Quinn returns the smile and waves at her to come over. They walk out of the NYADA campus together ready to meet Santana and Kurt for a late lunch. With one arm around her giggling, coffee sipping girlfriend, she talks on the phone.
The next thing she does catches Rachel by surprise. Quinn swept her up into a tight hug before stealing her breath in a deep, non PG-13 kiss. The coffee cup drops to the street with a swoosh as Rachel's hands seek purchase on the back of her lover's head and sinks into Quinn's soft, blonde hair.
"What was that all about." Rachel shakes her head as if to regain focus. " I almost went cross-eyed there Quinn. You surprised me."
"I got the part." Comes the breathless answer. The smile on Quinn's face is one of the brightest Rachel has ever seen.
"Oh, Quinn." Rachel groans out, her eyes go misty, as she crashes their lips together in another mind-melting celebratory kiss.
"If you bitches say you're just friends after this. I'm not sure if we could still be friends. What you say 'Fabrays'?" Santana's voice breaks over their hazy state. Kurt's mouth hangs open, only to shut close again like a fish out of water.
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, FOX does. That's it that's the disclaimer.
To come: More progress to the girl's careers.