The handful of days that led up to Sectionals passed Quinn in a blur of rehearsals rife with tension, cold looks from Mr. Schue, and the burden of schoolwork. It was punctuated by short moments with Rachel. Quinn was willing to carve out time with a blunt and rusting knife if it meant a few minutes if only to bask in her presence. They skirted around Rachel's dads, kissing out in the dark front porch, or in the garage before Rachel had to go inside to have dinner with her family while Quinn returned to the cold darkness of her empty house.
In a blink, the day of Sectionals arrived. In a frigid Saturday morning, Quinn and her mom drove to the Buckeye Civic Auditorium for the competition. Already the parking lot was packed with cars. Guests lined up with their tickets as they trickled into the venue. Judy wished Quinn luck before she headed off to the side entrance that led into Western Ohio High School. The hallways were empty and signs done up in printing paper pointed to dressing rooms for the four competing high schools.
Quinn found the door marked with her school and entered what looked like the history classroom. Student-made posters recreated Depression-era advertisements and conscription bills. Along the wall above the blackboard hung portraits of presidents. Everyone was already there. Kurt was fixing the part of Artie's hair with product. Marley was doing last minute fixes to Kitty's dress. Brittany was – Quinn raised a brow and smirked at the sight of the blonde tying Finn's necktie for him.
"Oh thank god, Quinn's here," Mercedes said with a huff of exasperation. "Would it kill you to be early from time to time?"
"Sorry," Quinn gave her a brief hug. She settled on a chair beside Sam. "Do we already know when we're going?"
"Finn drew the lots a few minutes ago. We're going last." He said.
Quinn winced. "Yikes. Could be good, could be bad, I guess."
"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
Rachel looked up from reading the show choir programme to look at her dads, both with nostalgic looks on their faces. They sat behind the row reserved for the judges themselves. "What does? Watching show choir performances?"
"Yes! We haven't been to one of these since you graduated high school. Imagine our surprise when you roused us this morning to get ready with such urgency you'd think you're the one performing," Hiram chuckled.
"Well, I'd hate to get bad seats."
"I'm not complaining, sweetheart. Oh, Judy's here!"
Rachel turned to see Quinn's mother walking sideways to take the seat beside her. "Hi, I'm Rachel."
"Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Judy leaned in to press her powdered cheek against Rachel's. "I was surprised to see you all here."
"Is Quinn performing then, Judy?"
"She is," to Rachel, she said, "my daughter, Quinn – she's in glee club. New Directions, I believe their group name is."
"Oh? Interesting." Rachel said, biting back a smile. "I'm looking forward to their performance."
Eventually, the auditorium lights dimmed and a silence fell in a wave as everyone settled into their seats. Spotlights illuminated the stage as the curtains broke and a disembodied voice introduced the first school to perform.
They were impressive, in the way that dancing penguins were impressive and adorable. Rachel made mental notes about the choreography, winced when the power note was slightly out of pitch. There was a brief moment of pause whilst the judges whispered amongst themselves, and then the next two schools performed.
Finally, it was New Directions' turn. Rachel settled into her seat and Judy clapped giddily. The lights burst bright, and it showed the members – Rachel, bemused, counted the same old thirteen requisite bodies standing upon the stage.
Their set was good. Thematic, at least, but the song choices were a bit dated, from ten to fifteen years ago. Classics, surely, and songs that the judges would know and remember, but Rachel wondered if it was this Mr. Schue who chose the songs, or if the students did.
Rachel's eyes landed on Quinn, her rose-coloured hair stark in the dark colours of the stage. She looked beautiful as she sang, full-hearted and beaming as she danced. She was not the soloist, but the girl they chose to sing the solo was fantastic. In that regard, Rachel could forgive it.
"There, that's her! My daughter, the pink-haired darling," Judy whispered.
"She's gorgeous," Rachel replied. "She surely gets her looks from you."
The performance ended with a sudden clap of silence. After the thunder of applause dissipated throughout the echoing halls of the auditorium, Rachel excused herself to the bathroom. Her cheeks were flush from heat from watching performances, and oh how she longed to be singing and dancing on stage again. Rather than follow the signage that directed people to the bathrooms, however, she turned into the stretch of halls and in the first room that she found, she knocked three sharp raps before easing the door open. She plastered a bright smile to her face and greeted the people in the room.
"Miss Berry! Oh my goodness, hello!" A man in a sharp crimson suit greeted her. A polka-dot bowtie adorned his neck, and his hair was slicked back with product that made his black locks shine. He rose from his seat to hold out his hand. "If I had known you would be in town, I would have made you one of the judges!"
"Who's this, Anderson?" Rod Remington, the local news anchor asked with a raised brow. He looked the same as Rachel remembered him, which meant the man probably underwent certain… surgeries to keep the sag of his jowl from pulling the rest of his face cleanly off.
Blaine looked affronted that Rod had no idea who Rachel was, and rightly so. How was he to judge a show choir competition without knowing who she was? "This is Tony-award winning Rachel Berry, a true legend among show choir circles." He turned towards Rachel again. "We can still make you a surprise guest judge if you're feeling up to it," he offered.
"Maybe next time, Blaine, but thank you. I'll be biased – as you know, my alma mater performed today."
"Of course, can't fault you for that," Blaine said with a nod. "How can I help you today?"
"I'm just curious about the how the judges will arrive at the conclusion of who gets first place, that's all," Rachel said. "I've never been behind the curtains, so to speak, and I've always been curious about the entire process."
The two other judges were as nondescript as they came – and lacking the requisite experience to boot. Rachel shot Blaine a pointed look. He could only wince and shrug. "I know what you're thinking – there are not a lot of people willing to judge show choir competitions nowadays."
The judge chatted among themselves, Rachel biting her lip to keep herself from interrupting and exerting her will over the three of them. She made sounds of agreement when one judge praised the New Directions, and a noise that sounded vaguely like how the phrase 'are you serious?' would sound if it had been a grunt.
As it turned out, Rachel had no need to worry. Blaine slipped the names of the groups into their respective envelopes. Rachel slipped out of the judges' room and noticed how a few people loitered around the area. One of them looked familiar. From Quinn's descriptions, the butt chin, the tight curly hair…
"Will Schuester?"
He snapped to attention and looked at Rachel in confusion. Fixed the knot of his tie and straightened his blazer. "That's me."
"I'm Rachel Berry – I'm an alumni of New Directions. A few years after you graduated so you likely don't know me."
"It's great to meet you, Rachel," they shook hands. Still, he looked dazed. He realized how he must look to her. "I apologize, I haven't been sleeping well. Grading papers, you know," he said, sheepish. "And on top of that, problem students and managing glee club."
"It must be a lot for you," Rachel touched his arm, and he blinked. She slipped her arm around the crook of his elbow and led him down the hall. "Have you ever considered ways and means of decreasing your work load?"
Quinn squinted under the sharp heat of the stage lights as they all gathered for the announcement of the winners. At the far end of the stage, the cart with the trophies was wheeled in, along with a short man in a suit and bowtie. With him he carried two envelopes. Quinn stared at them, her heart racing with possibility. She had no idea if they were any good – or better than the two competitors which made it all the worse. She was confident about their performance, sure, but not as much as she could have been, she felt, given the drama around Mr. Schue. She sighed and beside her, Finn rubbed her shoulder.
The first name that was announced was not theirs, and so it became a tightrope walk between heading to Regionals or crashing and burning altogether. The man cleared his throat and asked for a drum roll. Quinn rolled her eyes at the theatrics but knew that they were necessary.
"And now, the group that will progress to perform in Regionals is… New Directions!"
Quinn's ears rang from the shrieks that surrounded her. She was hugged, she was buffeted, Finn lifted her into the air, and suddenly it registered. Tears sprang in her eyes, unbidden and sudden, which she hastily wiped away. She watched Finn and Mr. Schue accept the trophy. She held a section of it and held it up to applause.
Her heart was still racing and she was still breathless as they returned to their dressing room. Finn came up beside her with his wide grin. "Don't forget your promise. You're going to apologize to Mr. Schue if we won, remember?"
"I'll do it on Monday."
"What? But he's right there!"
"I need to think about what I'm going to say."
Finn sighed. "That's a good idea. Knowing you, you're going to end up shoving your foot in your mouth again – " He grunted when Quinn's fist pummelled into his side.
They gathered in the classroom to pack their things while they discussed the celebratory afterparty. Quinn changed into her black ripped jeans, her red and black plaid shirt and jean jacket studded with pins. She stuffed her dress into her bag and their group stepped out of the classroom. Down the hall, she caught a glimpse of Rachel – she could pick her out from a crowd no problem, talking to Mr. Schue. Quinn's brow furrowed and she continued to watch the two of them discussing something, goodness knows what, while the rest of the club members filed out of the school.
Rachel and Mr. Schue parted ways with a handshake. She left, heading back to the auditorium proper while Mr. Schue turned around and met them with a proud smile on his face. "I knew you guys could do it. There won't be club meetings for all of next week so you guys can bask in your victory for a while."
Outside, the parking lot had cleared and it looked like all that remained were the cars of those who were part of the competition. Around the corner, Quinn saw Rachel typing away at her phone, her back turned towards her. She stood alone, her dads nowhere in sight, so Quinn rushed over to her.
"Hey, I didn't know you were going to watch the competition," Quinn said, a little breathless.
"I didn't want to make you nervous," Rachel touched Quinn's jaw and smiled. "Congratulations on the win, by the way. I knew you could do it."
The pink-haired girl laughed and held Rachel around the waist. "If I had known your eyes would be on me, I would have given a better performance."
"Quinn, you should always be doing your best on stage," Rachel chastised. She clasped her hands together behind Quinn's neck and looked into her eyes with a grin. "But I see what you're saying. You're adorable."
"Do I get a kiss? Seeing as we won."
Rachel laughed, one perfectly-lined brow raised. "Do you want a quick one now, or a slower one later?"
Quinn licked her lips, weighed her options. "A slower one, for sure."
"That's what I thought."
In the corner of Quinn's eye, she spotted the familiar platinum blonde head of her mother who was flanked by the two Berry men. She took a single step back to create a polite gap between herself and Rachel, her heart now pounding in her chest. Did her mom saw her holding Rachel? Did she see their playful smiles? The flirtatious batting of the eyelashes? Quinn swallowed. She hoped not. First of all, Judy had no idea she liked women, nor did she know that she was lusting for the older daughter of their next-door neighbour. Quinn wiped the sweat from her palms and offered Rachel the tiniest of shrugs, jerked her head towards the direction of their approaching parents. Rachel nodded once and turned to face them.
"I didn't know you two have met," Judy said.
Shit, Quinn winced. She should have kept her distance. What could her mother have meant by that? Judging from the shock in her face and the way she looked at Rachel with curiosity, they may have spoken about her. But what about?
"I met Rachel when I came home after school one day. We ended up talking for a bit. Did you know she was in the same glee club when she was in high school?"
"I did not know that," Judy said.
"How come you didn't mention you've met Quinn, darling?" Leroy asked Rachel, who shrugged.
"Must have slipped my mind."
Judy's sharp, piercing eyes trained on Rachel even as she spoke to Quinn. "We're on our way for brunch at The Station. Are you two coming with us? Oh hello, Sam," Judy addressed someone behind Quinn and she turned to find Sam there, along with the rest of the members of their club lurking nearby.
"Hi, Mrs. Fabray. Quinn, you're coming to the party, right? We're celebrating over at Finn's," Sam said.
Quinn, caught in the middle, opened her mouth to speak. She glanced at Rachel, then back at her group of friends, then at the face of her mother who awaited her answer, hesitant. As much as she wanted to bask in their temporary victory (it will only truly count once they held the Nationals trophy in their hands), she also wanted to spend time with Rachel. Plus she was starving. She turned to Sam, ready to make a paltry excuse to avoid attending this gathering, but Rachel smiled. Touched her shoulder.
"You should go," she said.
"What? But I..."
Rachel chuckled. "It's not every day you win Sectionals, but you can go to brunch with us whenever you want."
"Sorry mom, guess I won't be coming to brunch," Quinn said.
"Are you sure? Sandra will be so disappointed she won't get to see you and congratulate you on your victory."
"Let her know I'll visit at some point next week. I'll see you at home, okay?" Quinn kissed Judy's cheek, said goodbye to Hiram and Leroy. She looked at Rachel who subtly kissed the air, and it was enough. It was as good as a promise of what was to come.
So, begrudging as she was to turn her back on Rachel, Quinn climbed into the back of Finn's truck with Kurt and Mercedes. Sam rode shotgun and with a holler only the victorious could muster, they made their way to Finn's house to celebrate their Sectionals win.
Brunch with her lover's mother should have been awkward, but it wasn't, Rachel found. Likely because Judy had no idea of what transpired between her and Quinn behind locked doors and that she was a fantastic actress, but still, Rachel imagined that she would feel some kind of internal guilt as she looked at Judy sitting across from her while the blonde woman sipped mimosas and nibbled on waffles piled high on her plate.
From sharing a meal with Judy, Rachel learned that she worked long hours working as an accountant at a firm that specialized in the manufacture of car parts while studying to be a real estate agent on the side.
"My ex-husband told me that my place belongs in the home, so I finished my degree in art history and became his dear housewife," Judy was on her third cocktail and it was starting to show on the pink tinge of her cheeks. "But that was my mistake. I should have known. So Rachel, if you ever do get married, don't stop working even if your potential husband promises that he makes money enough for both of you because you won't see a darned cent of it."
Rachel glanced at her hands, at the thin, pale ribbon of skin that held the ghost of an engagement ring. She smiled. "Smart advice from a smart woman," she said, holding up her coffee mug – she never had been for day-drinking, after all. "Cheers."
After that, she drove her dads and Judy to the farmers' market located in one of Lima's largest parks. Hiram, the sober dad, told Rachel that once they were done, he would take Judy's car so Rachel would not have to pick them up. Rachel bade them goodbye and drove herself back to her house.
She immediately headed into her room and slipped into more comfortable clothing. Her baggy flannel sweatpants and bulky college sweater kept her cozy as she took her laptop out. She opened Santana's reply to the email she sent her. Her email read:
bitch you got me looking for hard drives on my day off! this file hasn't been opened since 2014. why do you even need this thing?
call me, xxx tana
It was true – the file had not been opened for years. After all, with Rachel's credentials and thanks to her updated IMDB page, she hardly had reason to use her CV. The last time she used it was to apply for a waitressing job in one of New York's seedy diners.
She spent the better part of the afternoon revising and tweaking it. She looked up guides on how to write an effective cover letter, and while she did so, she was faced with the odd absurdity of her actions. She gave up her booming career on Broadway and for what? This whim? Brought forth by nostalgia and unresolved feelings she never knew she had? Only to avoid the monstrous rearing head of the bulky thing in the room. The thing that haunted her, despite refusing to look it in its austere eyes.
"So who was that babe you were talking to earlier?" Sam asked after Quinn crumpled up her grease-stained paper plate. She licked her fingers and wiped the pizza crumbs from her lips and eyed her friend.
"Why'd you ask?"
"No reason. Is she your neighbour?"
"Did Finn tell you?" Quinn asked, her voice deadpan.
"Maybe," Sam grinned as he refilled Quinn's drink. "I'm genuinely curious, but I also think she's jaw-droppingly sexy. Do you think she's into younger dudes?"
Quinn half expected herself to be possessive over Rachel, to want to punch Sam in the face for talking about Rachel like that, but she didn't. She was more amused than jealous. Found herself wanting to talk about Rachel but at the same time, she did not want to reveal who she truly was to her just yet.
"Yeah, she's my next-door neighbour. Her name's Rachel," Quinn sipped her drink and licked her lips. "I don't know how much older she is, but she used to be in our glee club too so we can probably look that up in the yearbooks."
"Does she have a boyfriend?"
Quinn hummed. "I don't think so."
Sam pumped his fist. "Nice. A fighting chance."
"But a slim one," she said.
"Why, you know something?"
Quinn chuckled, shook her head. "Maybe, maybe not."
She got up to her feet and she could feel how Sam watched her as she said her goodbyes to the members of the club, hugging them individually and patting them on the back to congratulate them on a job well done. She gave Finn a salute and waggled her eyebrows – he sat with Brittany on the loveseat and she seemed to be pulling out all the stops to seduce him that Quinn was surprised she hadn't caught them making out yet.
She stepped out into the brisk autumn early afternoon. With the collar of her jean jacket raised, she decided to take the bus to make her way back home, though Finn offered her a ride. In the same way she would hate to be interrupted if the girl she liked was making the moves on her, she didn't want to ruin Finn's chances with the cheerleader either. She quickly boarded a bus and allowed the ride to jostle and shake her around, all while she thought about what awaited her at home. If she was lucky, her mom would still be out — with the Berry men or by herself. Quinn winced at the thought. She had gotten so accustomed to being home alone that she struggled with being around her mom. She never knew what to talk about. Especially right now, when her current obsessions circled around an actual living, breathing person, and not a book or a movie.
Quinn hopped off the bus and within ten minutes, she was unlocking her front door and kicking off her boots. The car was parked on the driveway which indicated her mom's absence. She did notice that the Berry car was there, though. Quinn climbed upstairs to her bedroom, was halfway through tugging her pants off when she heard the doorbell ring.
"Fuck," she hissed as she pulled her pants back up. She took the steps, two at a time and yanked the front door open.
And found Rachel on her front stoop, dressed in comfortable-looking sweatpants and a warm sweater, the sleeves an inch or two too long for her arms.
"Hi," Rachel said, her smile shy. "I saw you walking down the street, and since you're mom's still likely hanging out with my parents, I thought — " she paused to meet Quinn's eyes. "I don't know what I thought, if I'm being honest."
Quinn leaned against the doorway. "Whatever it is, I'm glad you're here."
She showed Rachel inside and watched the older woman look around the house. It was not as stifling as the house from Quinn's childhood. The house in the wealthier side of Lima with its gated driveways, passcode-locked front doors, and monthly fees to some private security firm. The steps were not made out of marble, the hardwood was not polished to reflection. The living room was messy with stacks of her mom's real estate magazines and Quinn's unfolded sweater draped over the back of the couch.
Together they went to Quinn's bedroom. Smaller than her old one, but definitely closer to her actual personality. In her old room, everything was drenched in pastel colours. The daisy pattern on the bedspread, while cute, was not something Quinn chose on her own. Her present bedroom had posters from bands she watched play live, the bed unmade. Her bookshelves were crammed, no inch was vacant. Books spilled out to the floor.
Rachel scanned the room and, in that moment, Quinn began to doubt herself. Was her room too childish? Would Rachel rather have sex on a bed with daisies, like making love in an open field, rather than plain white sheets and a blue-striped duvet? Was her bed – a double – too small? Would she rather a queen? Of course she would – who wouldn't? Quinn gnawed on her bottom lip, dread rising in her chest while Rachel scanned the books on her shelves.
"I love your room," Rachel said as she sat on the edge of Quinn's bed, her legs crossed at the ankles. "It has so much of you in it." She picked up the stuffed toy of a pig in a three-piece suit and bowtie that sat against Quinn's headboard and hugged it to her chest. "Quinn? What's wrong?"
She sank on her knees on the floor and rested her forehead on top of Rachel's lap. Sighed in relief. "I was just thinking," she said, voice muffled against the flannel of the older woman's sweatpants. "About what if you hated my room."
Rachel's fingers wove through pink locks to scrape against the base of her scalp, her nape. "I love your room," she repeated. "I think it suits you."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Why would it?"
Quinn chewed her bottom lip and shrugged. "No idea."
Even though she could tell from the slight frown on Rachel's face that she wanted to ask more questions, Quinn was relieved that she didn't. Rachel settled back, her sleek dark locks fanned against the pillows. She tugged at Quinn's hand. "Now, come lie down with me."
"Hmm, I think I'll stay down here, actually," Quinn murmured. She gave the drawstring of Rachel's pants a deft tug and it unravelled. She glanced at Rachel's features, lined with amusement. She was biting her lip, a smile on her lips. Quinn hooked her fingers into her waistband. She tugged the piece of clothing cleanly off, along with Rachel's cotton panties. She flung them behind her and nudged her legs apart.
Quinn licked her lips at the sight of her pussy, the thick lips, the mound covered in Rachel's dark hair. She wanted her mouth on it so badly that drool formed in her mouth. Quinn took Rachel's clit in her mouth, gave it a gentle suck. Her tongue toyed with the stiff bud as she delighted in the soft sounds that came from Rachel. She kept her legs spread wide open for Quinn that in the back of her mind, she was impressed by the older woman's flexibility.
Dipping her tongue into the flexing hole of Rachel's pussy, she groaned at the saltiness that swept over her taste buds. She buried her nose deeper against Rachel's mound, slurping her juices wetly. Quinn tongued her clit, licked the flexing walls of Rachel's pussy, all while wrestling her cock out of her jeans. It throbbed in her hands, stiff and aching.
"Oh – right there, right there, Quinn," Rachel gasped as if stunned. She wound her fingers in Quinn's pink hair to keep her latched on to her clit. Quinn took the blatant request with a smug grin and pushed Rachel's legs to her chest to expose more of her to Quinn. She spread her pussy lips and lapped at her clit. She sucked it into her mouth, tugging it with her lips. She felt the vibrations of Rachel's body that began with her thighs, as her moans rose to a feverish pitch, breathless and desperate.
Rachel raised her head and met Quinn's gaze with parted lips, flushed cheeks, and the look of arousal so bright in her eyes. "Make me come," she husked, tugging at Quinn's hair. "Give me that mouth… Please – I'm so close…"
Up until that moment, Quinn had no idea she liked hearing being told what to do, and she probably really didn't. But in this case, with Rachel's hips rising to meet more of her mouth, she found that she did not mind if it was Rachel doing the bossing around. She rubbed Rachel's clit and tongue-fucked her hole, groaning when she felt it clench. She's so fucking wet and Quinn relished the way Rachel writhed and squirmed, begging for more of her touch.
Rachel's back arched and Quinn held her down when she shrieked and came. Cum flooded out of her grasping pussy. Quinn buried her tongue inside her to feel the quivering of her walls.
"Quinn… Yes, yes… fuck!" Rachel sobbed, her nails digging into the younger woman's toned arms. Sweat formed on her forehead. Her sweater rode up her torso to expose the curves of tits. Quinn, face smeared and slick with Rachel's cum, kicked off her pants and stripped naked. Helped Rachel out of her sweater as she slipped her stiff meat into Rachel's still-clenching hole. Quinn groaned, her fingers digging into the meat of Rachel's thighs.
"You fill me up so good," Rachel panted as she clung to Quinn's neck, her ankles resting against her shoulders. She licked her jaw, cleaning up the cum that her pussy left all over Quinn's skin.
"Fuck yeah, lick it up," Quinn groaned. Her hips clapped in a steady rhythm against the backs of Rachel's thighs. "How's your cum taste, Rachel?"
"Good. Must you be such a messy eater?" She teased.
"If you can eat a peach without making a mess, it means it's not juicy," Quinn murmured against Rachel's lips.
Rachel blushed and Quinn grinned. She rutted into the slippery heat of her soft walls. Her entire body thrummed with her lust for Rachel. With every thrust, she endeavoured to get deeper, to make Rachel moan some more, to make the older woman orgasm again and again and again. And it happened. Rachel gasped, her eyes rolled back. Her toes curled and she whimpered Quinn's name repeatedly with a desperation that Quinn matched as she fucked Rachel into the mattress. Her bed creaked. Pillows fell to the floor from the way they writhed around the surface of the bed.
"Oh Quinn, Quinn… You're so deep," Rachel's tits heaved with deep moans. Her muscles clamped around Quinn's pumping cock, followed by a shriek muffled against her pale neck. The younger woman gritted her teeth and yanked her cock out of Rachel's grasping walls. Rachel trapped Quinn's pulsating meat between her thighs. Quinn sucked in a harsh and came, the viscous ropes of her load shot all over Rachel's stomach and tits.
Quinn rested her forehead against Rachel's calves while she rutted between her thighs and caught her breath. She collapsed on the bed beside Rachel, eyes closed and panting.
Rachel tucked herself beside Quinn, noting the smug grin on the younger woman's face. She chuckled, playfully rolled her eyes, and draped her legs and arm over Quinn's body that was slick with sweat. Their skin stuck together and normally, Rachel loathed that sensation, of being glued against someone, but with Quinn, she did not mind it, especially because she pulled Rachel closer to her chest to scatter kisses all over Rachel's sweaty brow and hair.
She had wiped the cum from her belly with Quinn's shirt, silently telling herself to wash that shirt for the girl before she would return to her house. Rachel rested her chin against Quinn's breasts and nuzzled the soft mounds while her fingers traced the faint lines of her muscles where sweat had gathered.
Her body felt so calm around Quinn. Less performative. All the moans that came out of her thus far were simply that – they came out of her, unbidden, un-willed, never performed. Her moans were all coaxed out of her by Quinn's eager attention, and Rachel was unsure what that could possibly suggest for her and her sexual experiences thus far in her life.
"How was your celebratory party, Quinn?" Rachel asked.
"It wasn't anything special. We just had pizza, talked about the performance," Quinn yawned and nuzzled the top of Rachel's head. "Everyone's really pumped to win Regionals next, of course. They keep threatening that if I miss more than three practices, they're going to do something to me."
"Maybe don't skip practice anymore then," Rachel suggested.
"Hmmm," Quinn opened one eye to look at Rachel. "It depends. We'll see. My friends, the guys, anyway – are really into you, you know," her arms tightened around Rachel and the older woman bit back a smile. Wondered whether it was a claim of Quinn's subconscious. "Sam – he's that blond guy – asked me if you're single."
Rachel rested on her belly and traced spirals on Quinn's stomach, causing goosebumps to rise all over her skin. "And what did you tell him?"
"I said I didn't know," Quinn said. After a beat, she said, "so, are you?"
"Single? More or less."
Quinn swallowed and nodded once. "Okay, cool."
Rachel watched the way Quinn's features shifted and aligned in subtle twitches of the facial muscles. There was tension in her neck and shoulder blades. She almost plainly refused to meet Rachel's inquiring eyes. "Would you like a label for what we're doing, Quinn?"
"Huh? Oh, I mean, if you don't mind," she said, sheepish and hesitant. She seemed to change her opinion as she was in the middle of finishing her sentence. "But I mean – it's not like I'm thinking of telling anyone about us, so it's not really important to have a label unless you're going to talk about it to other people, you know?"
"I can be the older woman you have sex with," Rachel suggested with a small laugh, more so to ease the tension, to lighten Quinn up even by just a bit. It worked, and Quinn offered her a smile. "What do you call them? Milfs?"
"Sadly, you're not a milf, Rachel," Quinn said, giggling now. "Seeing as you don't have kids. You need to be a mom to be a milf. I think it's a requirement."
"Yes, well," she responded in a haughty tone that made Quinn burst into laughter. "You go ahead and tell your friend that he's cute but he's not my type."
Quinn stilled and with eyes still dancing with mirth, she chuckled. "Oh yeah? What's your type, anyway?"
"Oh, I go through phases," Rachel answered as she swept back Quinn's hair from her forehead. "I seem to have a soft spot for punk girls with pink hair lately."
The younger woman leaned into her touch. "I'll make sure to tell him. What about you? How was brunch with my mom?"
Rachel rolled to lay on her back, her head resting against the crook of Quinn's arm. "She's a charming woman. She even gave me solid marriage advice," she said with a wry chuckle. She held up her hand that now held the ghost-pale dented skin of a once-familiar ring's absence. Quinn reached out similarly and laced their hands together.
"How the hell is she going around giving marriage advice when she's divorced?"
"It means she can speak from experience. She said if I ever get married, that I should keep working and shouldn't rely on my future spouse to be the sole provider. Solid advice, regardless of whether her marriage worked out or not," Rachel pointed out.
Quinn rested their joined hands on top of her stomach. "Hmmmm, I guess."
With the pad of her thumb, Quinn traced the thin dent of skin on Rachel's ring finger. She half expected the pink-haired girl to ask about it and she braced herself for the vague shape the question would take.
But it did not arrive. Quinn's focus moved on to the rest of her fingers. She brought Rachel's hand to her lips to kiss the inside of her wrist. For that, Rachel was grateful.
Now that she thought about it, only a week had passed since she caught Jesse fucking her publicist on the new couch she bought for him.
She got to leave work early that day – the sound engineer got into an accident when she was shopping at one of the farmer's markets that dotted the parks of New York City. The sound engineer had been groping Napa cabbages when the awning propped up by a stick blew in a gust of autumn wind. It smacked her on the back of her head, pushing her face first into the arms of the cabbage grocer. And that, as she said on the phone with Rachel with a dreamy sigh, was that.
Rachel could not fault her for calling in after that meet-cute story so her manager shrugged and let her go home, the recording to be scheduled at a later date. She stopped by a bodega for a brunch sandwich for herself and Jesse, hoping to eat it with him while they lounged on his new fake leather couch. In her excitement, she nearly skipped on the way to his apartment.
It was even a surprise to her that she had her keys to Jesse's apartment with her – she rarely did, since Jesse was almost always home, or they would be together and he always had his keys with him. She slipped her key into the lock, gave it a turn.
In retrospect, she should have known. Should have identified those sounds – grunts and the creak of the pleather, the clap of sweat-drenched skin against skin – that, in retrospect, could only be indicative of one thing. Perhaps it was because sex with Jesse was always quiet, the bedroom with him a place where one can hear a pin drop. How was Rachel to know that he had an ounce of passion in him when she hardly had the opportunity to see any of it directed at her?
As it turned out, Jesse had passion – and lots of it. It just so happened to be for Rachel's publicist.
The two men, sprawled on the couch, naked and panting, was something Rachel struggled to scrub out of her mind's eye. At first, she had no idea whose limbs were whose, but it dawned on her that it did not matter.
"Rachel?!" Jesse, his wavy hair plastered to his forehead, gawked at Rachel who simply stood at the wide-open doorway, clutching the paper bag that held the two breakfast sandwiches in her hand. "You should've called!"
"So I don't interrupt you, is that it?" Rachel, in a burst of dramatics, flung the brown paper bag of sandwiches and it smacked Jesse squarely in the face. "Fuck you, Jesse!" And she stormed out into the street. She hunched over the bushes that adorned the perimeter of the apartment building, nauseated.
And silently cursing herself for chucking the food at him. There was an avocado and chickpea sandwich in that bag with her name on it (literally!) and she wasted it on him!
With tears streaking down her face that she refused to wipe away, she stormed to the direction of her apartment.
"Rachel?"
She jolted in response, not realizing that she had been spacing out, half-asleep. She opened her eyes and blinked until her vision focused to see a concerned Quinn looming over her.
"Hi, sorry, was I flailing around?"
"You were balled-up tight. What's wrong? Bad dream?" Quinn soothed Rachel with a backrub and she melted into her touch.
"Something like that," she sighed. One glance towards the window told her the lateness of the hour – the clock on the nightstand merely served to validate it. She sat up, yawned, and stretched.
"Do you… want to talk about it?" Quinn asked.
"Not yet, but thank you for offering," Rachel cupped Quinn's cheek and gave her a kiss. She didn't need the burden of Rachel's dramatic New York life to infuriate her too, so she made the conscious decision to leave her past out of her fling with Quinn – for as long as she could possibly hold it in, at least. "Maybe one day, I'll tell you all about it."
Quinn kissed Rachel's knuckles, and it was this small, romantic gesture that made Rachel tackle the younger woman into the bed to hold her in a deep kiss. Rachel reared back, breathless, and found Quinn underneath her, laughing. "What just happened? What's gotten into you?"
The small things, it seemed, still played a note on Rachel's heartstrings. "Nothing. I just couldn't resist you, I suppose."
Quinn, with her pink hair and smug grin, winked and said, "by all means. If I get to be kissed like that all the time, then keep not-resisting me, please."