Stay with me, guys!

XO Dylan

November - Freshman Year of College

Can you take me home?

"Bee?" she whispered. Nothing came. "Bee…"

Still nothing.

Rachel turned under the arm draped over her shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to put herself face to face with the angelic girl curled up behind her. Her big brown eyes raked over the peaceful sleeping features before her. Quinn was still beautiful, strikingly beautiful.

"Bee," she whispered. "Wake up."

She leaned in to press a light kiss on her lips and froze; was she allowed to do that? Two more inches and she'd do it. Could she?

What were they? They'd been sleeping naked together for weeks now. No matter how late, Rachel arrived at Wallach, walked to 414, stepped inside, stripped her clothes off and crawled into Quinn's bed just as she crawled into her heart.

Sometimes there aren't other choices.

Sometimes there aren't other paths to take. Sometimes your only option is to go with what feels okay, regardless of what your head says about it. Rachel's head said a lot while lying in Quinn's arm. It didn't say as much as her heart, but it said a lot.

It whispered endlessly.

It drove her insane.

It drove her wild.

It drove her.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Quinn's, because she had to. The blonde stirred awake beneath the touch and slowly pulled her eyes open. Rachel smiled bashfully and swallowed her embarrassment.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I just…"

"Just what?" Quinn murmured sleepily.

"Couldn't help myself," Rachel whispered.

"I love you."

Rachel sighed and curled further into her arms.

"Can I ask you something?" she said and slid her bare legs further between Quinn's. She wrapped her arms tight, pulling their torsos together and breathed her.

"Mm, yes," Quinn murmured.

"What is this?"

"What is what?"

"This," Rachel said and squeezed her to emphasize their position. Quinn's eyes drifted back open.

"Us?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"What do you want?" Rachel pressed. "Now's your chance to say what you want. We need to talk about this."

"Why do we need to talk about it? Let's just be…"

"Because one day it's going to get confusing and in a bad way. One day it's going to need a definition which neither of us will have because we failed to talk about it."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say what you're thinking," Rachel whispered.

But Quinn couldn't say what she was thinking. Everything in her head felt like mush inside Rachel's arms. Everything in her head felt grey and now she knew how her dad felt always trying to understand her.

She missed her dad. She missed her mom. She missed high school, pre apocalypse, when everything was clear. She was in love and it was all she needed.

Now it wasn't all she needed, all Rachel needed, all they could offer.

There was more. There was always more now.

"I'm thinking that I miss how easy it used to be," she whispered.

"I know."

"I don't know what else to say; I feel like a thousand things want to come out and I don't know where to start or what would be best or what you even need from me."

"I just need you," Rachel muttered with finality.

"I'm right here."

Quinn pulled her closer and it was enough, for some reason it was enough. It ended the conversation and comfortable silence fell over them.

Quinn found Rachel in her arms and kept her there. She was never once tempted for more; whether that meant something good or bad, she didn't know. She didn't care to analyze it because it never got her anywhere. All she knew was that Rachel existed in her arms and that's all she needed.

"Tonight is the Roxy," Rachel said.

"What?"

"The concert at the Roxy. Remember?"

"Oh yeah. What time is it?" Quinn murmured and placed kiss after kiss on brown hair below.

"Nine. Just be to Juilliard by eight," Rachel sighed and set kisses across the collar bone in front of her. Everything in her wanted to shift her leg just right, trail her kisses a bit further south, or simply roll Quinn over and take her. But that would get them nowhere.

Right?

"I'll just meet you at the Roxy," the blonde whispered, a bit quieter than normal.

"Why would you wanna meet there instead?"

"It's closer."

"So?"

"…I thought that explained all I needed it to explain."

Rachel detached herself from Quinn and rolled away.

It was one thing for the blonde to be busy, to have a job, to say she would be visiting Rachel at Juilliard at some point, but it was a whole different story to never act on it. And it'd been four months. They'd been in New York for four months and she hadn't stepped foot at the college.

"Why are you avoiding Juilliard?"

"I'm not."

"You are. Two months ago you said you would visit. You always conveniently can't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me," Rachel dared.

"I don't like what you're implying," Quinn huffed, snatched the top sheet to curl it around herself and rolled out of bed, Rachel clawing at the sheet as she went. She needed covers, she needed protection. Quinn ripped it free of her grasp and it left the brunette spread naked; she'd never felt more on display.

Quinn marched to the sink, grabbed her toothbrush and started in on her routine.

"So you're denying the fact that you're avoiding Juilliard?" Rachel asked and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and crossing her ankles on the bed to cover herself.

Quinn thanked God for the mouthful of toothpaste in that moment. She pointed to her overflowing beak with her free hand. How could she answer that question when she was avoiding Juilliard? Every sight of the school brought back last year when they visited. She couldn't stand to see it, to be near it, to think of it. It screamed their wreckage back at her and her fragile, confused heart couldn't take it.

"Quinn."

"Bwushing my teef," she drawled over paste, as if that was a legitimate excuse. It was enough to send Rachel's light annoyance into pissed off territory.

"I can't believe you," she mumbled, slid to the edge of the bed and grabbed at her clothes. "I'm out of here." She threw on her jeans without underwear, her hoodie without a bra and her boots without socks.

Quinn rushed to clear her mouth free of loads and loads of paste, foam and water. Rachel swiped left and right, grabbing books, bags, hats, necklaces.

Quinn spit and spit.

Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.

She swished and spit again just as Rachel was going for the door.

"Wait, wait!"

"What?"

"I'm not avoiding Juilliard," she tried.

"You're lying to me! You're flat lying. And if there's one thing we can't afford right now, it's to lie to each other. I'm going home."

"Home is in Ohio."

"No! Home is Juilliard. Home has been Juilliard for four months. You would know this is if you bothered to visit and take an interest."

"Whoa! Back up."

"To what? Are you going to fight the fact that you never visit? Because you don't. Are you going to fight the fact that you don't take an interest in what happens there? Because you don't," she huffed and grasped for the knob. Quinn smacked her hand away, stepped in between Rachel and the door and stood strong.

"I take an interest!"

"You take an interest in my talent. You spend hours upon hours with me in Brooklyn. You run lines, you rehearse numbers, and you're practically best friends with my cast. But tell me something: what does my roommate at school look like?"

Quinn's heart deflated.

She had no idea. She had no idea what Janey Jansen looked like. She imagined a bleach blonde with big thighs and a bigger mouth, bent at the waist and spread wide, asking for Big Daddy to give it to her…

But surely that wasn't right.

Her mouth popped open to answer, but nothing came out.

"Four months, Quinn. I have lived with this girl for four months and you can't tell me what she looks like. What does that say to you?"

"I, I…"

"Sean, your lobby receptionist, knows my birthday! She knows my dad's voice because she's heard it so many times on speaker phone when I show up while talking to him. She says hi to my dad! She knows I carry Music History books on Tuesdays and Intro to Stage on Wednesdays. She knows when I buy new clothes, for Christ's sake, Quinn! And you can't tell me anything about the girl who sleeps three feet above me."

Quinn had no words.

"I'm going home. Maybe I'll see you tonight if I decide to show."

"I, I…"

"Eloquent. Get out of my way," Rachel barked and the harshness stilled her. Quinn stepped to the right. Rachel gripped the knob and stormed out, the door slamming shut as she went.

Shit. Well that came out well.

"Name?" the weathered, lanky man called from behind the dirt-streaked glass. Posters of local New York bands covered the edges with dates and prices plastered across them.

"Quinn Fabray!" she hollered back. The outdoor lobby's house music blared in her ears as patrons got in their last smoke of the evening before piling in for the opening act.

"Got nothing under that name!" he called back, shining back his lacking top row of teeth.

"This is Will Call, right?" she questioned and he nodded. "Try Rachel Berry."

He searched his computer again and then brought his eyes back to her.

"I got that name, but they're already picked up."

"What does that mean?"

"It means Rachel Berry already picked up her two tickets. In fact, you just missed her," he added.

Her jaw hit the floor as her eyes peeled wildly over the crowd.

So sure, they'd had a fight, but Rachel wouldn't pick up her tickets and leave Quinn at the door. Never in a million years that would happen.

She whipped back to the man.

"Was she short and brunette? Bubbly little crazy thing?" Quinn asked.

"Nope, tall and redheaded. Quite a looker that one," he added with a smarmy smile. Quinn sighed and shook her head.

"That's not Rachel Berry. You gave away our tickets."

"She had an ID that said Rachel Berry. Pardon me, but that's enough. We're not Broadway for shit's sake. Next!"

Quinn huffed and stepped aside. People swarmed around the lobby and she stuck out like a sore thumb; her green fall dress, knee high boots and baby blue scarf looked like happiness compared to the monochrome fashion surrounding her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and thought.

Where the hell was Rachel? What was going on and what the hell to do?

She grabbed her purse, opened it up and dug out her-

"Are you Quinn?"

Her attention shot up and connected with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. They shined for days and gorgeous auburn hair fell around her porcelain, freckled skin to frame her strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones. She could've been cut from stone for all Quinn knew.

"Yes, I'm Quinn."

"Rachel's not coming," the girl said and Quinn's eyes narrowed. Why did this girl know more about Rachel in this moment than she did? There was something very, very wrong with that.

"What do you mean she's not coming and who are you?"

"I'm Janey, her roommate. She wasn't feeling well so she said I could take her spot! You ready?" she chirped and held out an elbow for Quinn.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Sick how?"

"She said her throat hurt."

"Did she mention calling 911?" Quinn narrowed her eyes as Janey thought back.

"Um, no. Don't recall. It's just a throat," she laughed.

"A throat is not just a throat to Rachel Berry. If she was really sick with something of the throat, she would be going ape shit."

"She said you would say that," Janey smiled and Quinn's shoulders fell.

"Did she?"

"Mhm. She also said to tell you that you can either, and this may be a little awkward, but bear with me, you can either go to the show with me to get to know me or you can go see her at Juilliard."

"How convenient that those are her only two options," Quinn muttered and looked out over the busy New York street. Yellow cabs blared by, pedestrians ran at their own risk and hot dog vendors shouted their fixings.

"Quinn?"

"What?"

"I would like to go inside. Are you going to be cool and join or be a punk and go back to Jule?"

"Don't call me a punk."

"Don't be a punk then," she snapped right back. Quinn's eyes fell over her; she didn't like the girl. Immediately, she didn't like the girl and she couldn't figure out why. Something inside her churned just looking at her classically beautiful face. She wanted to stretch her perfect cheekbones out.

"Are you gay?" fell out of Quinn's mouth before she could stop it. Those ocean eyes sparkled with defiance and then she smiled. She smiled and Quinn thought she was going to die; the girl's smile reached for days.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm not asking for me."

"Oh. Well that's unfortunate," Janey mumbled and her eyes fell to the ground.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait, she thought Quinn was asking for herself which meant she didn't know of Rachel and Quinn. Maybe she didn't know of Rachel and Quinn because she didn't know of Rachel.

Maybe?

"Who are you asking for?" Janey wondered.

"No one, just curious. Going with my gut, apparently."

"Well yes, I am gay."

"And how long will you be roommates with Rachel?" Quinn asked, really embarrassed at how the conversation was taking her hostage. She didn't want to be asking these questions. She didn't want to be prying. She didn't want to sound jealous.

"What does that matter? Rachel and I get along."

"Just a question."

"Through the entirety of our stay at Juilliard unless one of us requests otherwise," she answered and cocked her head to the side, waiting for Quinn's follow up.

"And Rachel…" Quinn led, because she apparently just had to.

"What about her?"

"Do you know about…"

"About….?"

"About her…"

"Her what?"

"Her um…"

"You are really bad at this. Do I know she's gay? Yes," she snapped. "What's the big fucking deal? Are we gonna go watch the show or not? We can talk about Rachel later. I can put in a goddamn word if you're so interested."

The statement hit Quinn like a bag of bricks.

It hit her again and again and again in the head, in the heart, between her legs. It thundered through her and gave her the first glimpse of what life would sound like if Rachel Berry was never hers again. I'll put in a good word for you.

She didn't need a word.

Rachel was hers.

Rachel was hers.

Rachel was hers, right?

Before she knew it, her feet walked away from the so-called friendly redhead. Her fists balled and her ears billowed smoke.

She hit the subway seconds later. It passed without memory.

Next thing she remembered, her feet marched up to the Rose building, climbed fifteen stories and then she pounded on room 1504.

The door swung open and the brunette gasped.

"Qui-"

She reached forward, gripped the hoodie and smashed her lips into an unsuspecting Rachel Berry. She pushed through the door, kicked it shut with her foot and slammed Rachel into the armoire on the right. It was the first time she'd set foot in that dorm room, but she had no interest in looking around.

She had an interest in showing Rachel what she was to her.

She needed to provide answers and receive answers. Why did Rachel tell Janey she was gay, but fail to add the fact that she had a… a… a Quinn.

And then it hit her; Rachel was right. Their confusion and failure to define it boiled to a head and the moment she feared had arrived. She couldn't label what Quinn was, so Quinn didn't exist. Quinn never came around to give Rachel a reason to try. Quinn never met Janey so she didn't need an introduction. She didn't need a "comma girlfriend" or "comma ex" or "comma friend who loves me" behind her name because she never gave Rachel the chance.

And now her roommate, a stranger, offered to set her up with Rachel as if she had more of an in than Quinn did. It was utterly wrong and today, Quinn rectified it.

She slowed her assault to a crawl, sweetly snuck her hands around Rachel's waist, under her sweatshirt and gripped her back. She pulled her flush into her. She let their bruised lips pull apart and dropped hers to Rachel's neck, tears forming in her eyes and unable to stop it.

"You came," Rachel murmured, hands pawing at the blonde and lips digging through layers of scarf to find skin. Quinn reached up, ripped it off her neck and pushed back into Rachel. Her hands found thighs and she pulled them apart, pushing herself further in between.

"You told Janey you were gay," she muttered between nips to the brunette's ears. She missed them. She missed playing with those lobes and dancing her tongue across the edge.

"I am gay."

"She told me she would put in a good word if I was interested in you," Quinn added and pushed harder, spreading Rachel's thighs wider. The brunette chuckled and Quinn slid lower, grasped the back of one knee and lifted. It pulled Rachel apart exactly as she wanted. She thrust her hip perfectly into the girl and Rachel's head fell back onto the armoire with a thud.

It'd been months, months, since she felt anything touch her down there.

"I'm sorry she offered to be your wing man," Rachel husked.

"Why does she not know about me?"

"Why would she?"

"You don't fucking talk about stuff?" Quinn barked. Rachel's hands thrust forward, slamming into Quinn's chest and propelling her away.

"And what would I tell her?" she snapped and wiped her mouth clean. "There's this girl up at Columbia who likes to strip me down and sleep. Or maybe that I have a high school sweetheart I'm still in love with but can't be with because she won't talk about it; yeah that one sounds fun. Or how about-"

Quinn didn't let her finish. She pushed back into her, grasped her hands and shoved them above her head. Their bodies melded together, clothed breasts to breasts and hips begging for more each time they rubbed together.

"Dammit, tell me what I should've said!" Rachel snapped.

Quinn whipped her around and pushed her front into Rachel's back, hands still pinned above and cheek flesh to wood.

Quinn needed her, wanted her. She craved familiarity. She craved possession like she had a year ago. She had answers then. She had a future. There was clarity. Now she had nothing. Now she needed something, anything.

She moved Rachel's hands together to grip them with her left and then snaked her right hand down and around to the front of Rachel's sweats. The tie pulled open with a yank and-

"What are you gonna do, Quinn? Force me?"

Quinn's heart ripped to shreds and her back hit the opposite armoire before she knew it. Her eyes wide with shock and staring at Rachel's form shoved into the other closet, she trembled and forced her hands in her pockets.

What was she doing? God, what was she doing?

Rachel slowed her breathing, wiped her brow and then turned to look at the terrified blonde standing four feet away. She brought her hand to her mouth and regretted the comment instantly.

"I didn't mean that."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't. Don't be. I didn't mean that. It wasn't like that," Rachel assured and stepped forward. Quinn stepped back and it shattered her. "Come here, Bee. Look at me and come here."

Quinn pulled her eyes up to Rachel's, soft and sweet. The tiny girl extended a hand, offering a little bit of everything just as Quinn had the day of their first kiss. She swallowed, reached out, and grasped it. Rachel yanked, pulling them back together and slowing Quinn's quivering lips by smothering them with her own.

"I didn't mean that," she whispered again between kisses. "I didn't mean that." She stepped into the blonde, pressing them tighter, and walked her into the back of the door.

Their kisses felt different.

They felt like they were finally leading somewhere. They felt like they had purpose again; they weren't just there, drowning in the confusion. Quinn let the feeling roll over her and ignored the constant fear bubbling in her abdomen. She wanted this. She wanted Rachel.

"I want you. I need you to be mine," she murmured and heard a click.

It stopped their kisses and she looked down to her left as Rachel's fingers slid off the lock.

"Then have me."

Quinn wrapped her arms around the familiar shoulders and brought their lips back together. Floodgates to emotion opened up and an avalanche destroyed them. Quinn tilted her shivering head, cocked her mouth open and let Rachel slide inside. She hadn't felt that tongue since the day they arrived at Columbia. It seemed like ages ago.

It massaged her own, the roof of her mouth and danced over the front of her teeth. She wanted it on her body. She wanted it everywhere.

"Are you okay with this?" Quinn murmured, her lips dropping down to the jaw and lobe and then neck. Rachel moaned, tilted her head and tightened her fingers around Quinn's high dress belt.

"Yes. Don't ask again."

"Why?"

"Because my answer might change, just, just keep going," she pleaded and trailed her fingers to the front of Quinn's belt. She unhooked it and ripped it free of her dress. Her fingers shot north to the buttons.

"No," Quinn whispered and reached under her own dress. She shimmied and shimmied until Rachel watched her pull a thong down her thighs. She stepped one leg out and then let it fall around her opposite boot.

Rachel licked her lips, eyes locked on hazel, and Quinn grabbed her right hand before shoving it under her dress as she slipped her own hand into Rachel's sweats.

Fingers met wetness simultaneously and they fell back into door with gasps. The sensations rang so familiar yet foreign at the same time.

Quinn dragged her fingers through Rachel and about collapsed at the feeling. She'd wanted it for so long, dreamt of it for longer, and craved it for years. Now she had it.

And she still had no idea what it meant.

"Bee," Rachel moaned, her soaked forehead resting on Quinn's jolting collarbone. It's where she always rested anytime this took place standing. It was her spot.

"Yeah?" she gasped, Rachel's fingers swirling around her like they perfected almost two years ago. They knew each other inside and out. Orgasms were faster, motions more fluid, ministrations mature and intuitive.

They knew each other like nothing else.

Quinn flatted her hand, tightened two fingers together and pushed inside the love of her life.

"Oh god," Rachel groaned and widened her stance. "Another."

Quinn pulled out, added her ring finger and shoved back inside. Rachel's head fell backwards and Quinn pushed harder, the tightness causing her forearm to burn already.

"Me too," Quinn panted. Rachel didn't hesitate, nor did she prepare her. She tightened three fingers together and slid inside Quinn. The blonde head slammed back into the wall as Rachel pushed in and out of her, a friendly thumb still spinning circles over her clit.

Quinn mimicked her moves, sending a wildfire trail of desire up her abs, over her breasts and crawling up the back of her neck. It tingled everywhere, burned more and sparkled behind her eyes.

Rachel pushed in and pulled out over and over, stretching Quinn with fury and curling each time to hit that spot she accidentally found two Christmases ago. She'd accidentally found it and then mastered it. She knew exactly where to touch to make Quinn lose herself. And here she was doing it again as if nothing changed.

She looked up to the beautiful face before her. Quinn's bottom lip was graced with an impression of teeth marks. Her cheeks flushed hot red. Her ears twitched like they always did when she was about to come. She knew the girl felt just as she did. She knew it was rocketing through her body just like the first time, ready to explode like a train against the wall, wreckage and fire and destruction.

It's all she ever wanted and all she ever got.

"Bee," she moaned again.

"Yea- yeah?"

"What are we d- doing?" she gasped as Quinn's fingers slid out to circle her clit and then shove back inside. Her eyes rolled back in her head and lips found hers. Lips found hers hard. They clashed, sucked, begged and loved on each other. Tongues dueled. Teeth nipped. And pleasure shot through the roof.

The roof of a place she'd been too terrified to visit, too terrified to visit because it reminded her everyday that one day, Rachel Berry would be bigger than her. Rachel Berry would be bigger than her.

"What are we doing," the girl panted again.

And in that moment, with Rachel buried deep inside her and she buried deep inside Rachel after months of wanting nothing more than this exactly, only one word came to her mind to answer that question. Only one word shined behind her eyelids and it made it okay.

"Bee," she panted again.

"Feeling, Rach. We're feeling. Now come with me, love."