My excuse/reason this time for the long gap between updates is more valid than usual, because my laptop died at the end of March and I only just got a new one! So I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging but I really couldn't do anything about it. Thanks to everyone who left me reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Fourteen:

When You Know It's Wrong But You Wish So Much It Was Right.

With a firmer kiss to Rachel's pursed lips and then another and another it wasn't long before Rachel couldn't resist meeting her halfway and then there were no interludes and their lips were moving and pressing together in a way that was still so new it set Catherine Wheels spinning behind her closed eyes and in her stomach but was also a familiar rhythm now that was just theirs.

Rachel's mouth slipped open first to let out an mmm of appreciation and Quinn followed suit to take the sound in and swallow it, to keep it forever, and now they were kissing in that way that always led to her becoming a hot mess in minutes but she didn't care because she knew this wasn't going to change Rachel's mind, not in the long run, and so she was going to get as much out of the short run as she could.

Rachel's hands were latched on tight, massaging her shoulders in time with the motion of her lips. Quinn splayed hers over Rachel's ribs, thumbs brushing back and forth and bunching the white cotton of her top in a way that had Rachel sliding a hand behind her neck to keep her right there as she whimpered against her lips with every stroke until they both had to pull away and gasp for air.

"That was . . ." Rachel panted, letting her forehead fall gently against Quinn's. "Wow, we just keep getting better at that, don't we?"

"We do. Which is why we shouldn't stop."

"Quinn, you know it's for the best . . ."

"Okay. Do you know what's even better than best?"

"What?"

"Not stopping."

The plastic armrests on their chairs tap-tapped together as Quinn pulled her back in, close, until they were connected by lips and breasts and then her hands slid down to Rachel's hips, trying to pull her closer still. Rachel obliged, shifting forward to the edge of her seat, but . . . How dirty was the carpet in here likely to be? Because this was great, but not really comfortable.

Before she could suggest anything, or bypass suggesting and shove a computer to the floor to make room for Rachel on a desk, the warmth of a hand on her knee distracted her.

It was tempting to leave it there, to see where that wandering hand intended to travel, she could already imagine the blazing trail it would cause as it slid up her thigh, up and under . . .

She pulled back from the kiss, chuckling breathlessly and covering the hand with her own. "Rachel, move it or lose it."

"No, wait."

"Wait for what? You to power up your time machine and take us eight and three-quarter weeks into the future?"

Rachel frowned, confused until such a specific time-length jogged her memory and she gently squeezed Quinn's knee. "Oh, no, not for that. Although that would be nice," she added with a flirty smile. "No, I just . . . Are you sure about this? About us . . . continuing?"

"I feel like I've made my thoughts on the matter pretty clear, but if you need even greater clarification . . ." She caught plump lips in a very clarifying kiss. "Convinced?"

Rachel nodded, "But what about Finn?"

She frowned, "I don't think it's a good idea for me to convince Finn that you and I belong together . . ." laughing, she pulled her hand back from Rachel's when her arm was slapped.

"I'm serious! I care deeply about you, Quinn, and I want to be with you, but I need to know you're aware of just how much more complicated this is going to make things for you. And, honestly, I don't want to get hurt if or more likely when our bubble gets burst again, because you have a tendency to take things out on me and that does hurt, Quinn."

"I know. I'm sorry." Quinn gave her a light peck and then 'pinged' with a brilliant idea, it might have been a slightly evil one too, but those were what she was best at. "Here, let me make it up to you."

She took Rachel's hand from her knee and placed it further up her thigh, just below her Cheerios skirt and then sat back enough to enjoy the show.

Brown eyes went wide, a jaw fell showing lots of perfect, white teeth as a pink tongue poked out to wet those beautiful lips and then Rachel started stammering over words that . . . well, there didn't seem to be any actual words, just one long chorus of, "Uh, um, ah, um, oh, uh." She may have caught an, Oh, Barbra!" in there too but she wasn't sure.

"So, I'm going to assume that had the desired effect."

Rachel got it together enough to look up with a slightly manic smile on her face. "I thought we had a no touching below the waist rule?"

"Oh, we do," she smirked, "but for one night only we also have a 'touching below the skirt is okay' rule too."

That manic smile was only getting worse as Rachel swooped back in to reclaim her mouth and Quinn just had time to mumble, "That's below the skirt, Rachel, not under!"

Rachel pulled her hand back down an inch with a mumbled, "Oops, sorry!"

She didn't sound sorry.

Several minutes later it was harder to mind so much that those fingers kept creeping up, tracing patterns on the inside of her thigh before remembering themselves and jerking back down to the safe-zone. It might have had something to do with just how good they felt teasing her skin. Their positions were getting increasingly awkward, now that she had one tennis shoe up on the edge of Rachel's chair, between her spread knees, so that Rachel could stroke her thigh and she could palm Rachel's breast through her white cotton top and they could still get close enough to hold each other tightly with their free arms while they kissed and kissed some more. The Karma Sutra it wasn't and Quinn's other knee was getting bullied by the plastic edge of Rachel's chair and Rachel just had to be getting a crick in her neck from the angle she was leaning in but neither of them were thinking for a second about stopping, even wasting time to just reorganise their cramping limbs would be a sin at this point.

"We should . . . we should continue this somewhere not at school."

"I have, um, I have practice."

"When?"

"I don't know. Now?"

"Can't you . . . Oh, goodness."

"What?"

"My nipple apparently reeealy likes that."

Quinn snorted and sucked Rachel's bottom lip between her own for a moment, grazing it with her tongue. "No, I meant what were you going to say?"

"Oh. Skip it. Practice, I mean."

"I would but I can't afford to piss Coach off anymore."

"Come on, how much do you... do you really like being head cheerleader anyway?" Rachel joked, bringing her short nails into play on Quinn's thigh.

It might have been a joke but the sudden deluge in her underwear wasn't. It was a warning sign, a big, fat neon sign saying STOP but that wasn't what she wanted to do. She wanted to pull Rachel closer still, to run her tongue over that gorgeous bottom lip again as she kissed her and to pull that hand further up her thigh to feel it where she needed it most . . .

She did all of that except the last one, because, well, she still wasn't quite ready for that mentally even if her body was all go, go, go! But she was fully prepared to blow off practice. With Kassie and the others back on the squad it was going to be miserable for her anyway and this . . . this . . . was anything but miserable.

She needed this like . . . like air!

"If I don't go to practice I have a couple of hours before the game."

"I'm in."

"We could drive to the fre-freight yards," she stuttered as Rachel's fingers trailed up a little higher than they had before. She knew she should push them down again. Knowing and doing? Two different things. She swallowed, hard. "Get in the back seat."

"Or we could go to mine." Rachel arched her back, pushing into Quinn's hand as much as she could without moving too far from her lips. "I have a bed."

"No beds!" she blurted without thinking.

Rachel chuckled, "Fine, we can hang out on the floor."

"I'm starting to think . . . you don't like the backseat . . . of my car," Quinn said between kisses.

"I love . . . the backseat of your car." Rachel copied her. "But my Dads won't be home . . . until seven tonight. And it'll be . . . warmer."

Quinn grinned as she repeated Rachel's earlier words, "I'm in."

"Okay, we'll go in a minute."

She nodded, forehead pressed to Rachel's. "Yeah, in a minute."

They spent the minute kissing, obviously, and Quinn both couldn't wait to get to Rachel's and couldn't stand the thought of stopping what they were doing now. Because it felt so good. It was perfect, and what if it wasn't later. What if Rachel changed her mind again or it was awkward for some other reason? No, right now was really good and she wasn't ready to leave it behind just yet.

So they kissed and kissed, both muttering about leaving soon but neither of them making a move to do so as Quinn's other hand started feeling up Rachel's other breast and Rachel's handmade braver and longer journey's under her Cheerios skirt.

There was a faint click and a footstep and then suddenly she was blinking from the sudden brightness as every light in the room was flipped on.

Instinctively she pulled back and kicked out and Rachel's arms flailed as her wheelie chair zoomed away, spinning three times before hitting a desk six feet over just as the little Japanese janitor came into sight. He looked as shocked by their presence as she was by his.

Full on panic at getting caught with Rachel hit her but she had a plan, didn't she? She had a plan for getting caught in here.

"I was just do-doing my homework!" she insisted, seven shades of red as she leapt off of her chair and made a grab at her history essay notes, knocking most of the loose leaf pages to the floor in her panic. "See! Homework, I have, um."

"I see." He gave her a big beaming smile and then turned to Rachel, bowing slightly at the waist. "Hello, Homework."

Rachel put her hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter and her, "Hello, Mr Ziacki."

She could tell Quinn wasn't seeing the funny side at all. She had a fixed scowl on her face as she finished snatching up her scattered pages from the floor. She crunched them up in her left hand as she straightened up to glare at the little man and used her right hand to point at him.

"Okay, I know how this goes." Rachel was puzzled when Quinn reached for her bag to fetch her purse. "What's the going rate for silence now? Twenty dollars?"

Oh for Barbra's sake! "Quinn," Rachel reprimanded her through her giggles.

"Stop it!" She focused on Mr. Ziacki again. "Thirty? I'll give you thirty dollars if you never mention to anyone what you just saw."

He shook his head, grinning. "I can get a much better price for such sensitive information on the open market."

Quinn took a step towards him with a sugary smile. Rachel recognized it because it had been used on her more than once and the aftermath had always been unpleasant. But even she couldn't believe what came out of Quinn's mouth next! "You're Chinese or something; a first generation immigrant, right? Do you think anyone will even care enough to drag the Creek if you go missing?"

"Quinn!" Rachel leapt out of the swivel chair and took the necessary three strides purposefully to take her hand and squeeze it hard. It must of hurt because she felt Quinn tense her hand and try to pull away, and not in the usual way. Good. She hoped it had hurt! "Please forgive her, Mr. Ziacki. The baby hormones are just making her extra cranky today. I trust the fact that I've always thought of us as friends will be enough to stop you from sharing what you may have witnessed here today with anyone. If not I would urge you to call to mind that persecution is the reason you fled your native country to come and make a life here – in a place where everyone is free to live without unnecessary judgement."

"Of course, Miss. Berry," grinning, he bowed again. "And, please, remind your fathers about dinner next week. Mrs. Ziacki is fretting because she hasn't received yet an RSVP."

"An oversight on their part, I assure you," she promised. "I know they are looking forward to it. I'm only sorry I won't be able to come myself. But I'm sure you understand the full commitment high . . ."

Quinn gave her a look of disbelief, shook off her hand and stormed from the room.

". . . Oh, I guess we're leaving. Goodbye, Mr. Ziacki. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

As Rachel left the classroom Quinn was marching down the center of the hall and she stopped and just watched her go until she'd turned the corner, before following with a shake of her head.

Quinn was waiting for her at their lockers and seemed in a much better mood already. "Okay, so we won't be doing that in a classroom again!"

Rachel stared at her with wide eyes. "You thought that was funny?"

"No, not at all. It was horrifying!"

"Parts of it were," she agreed.

Quinn's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean by that?"

"You don't know?" The blank face she received answered it all. "You just threatened to kill the Janitor, Quinn!"

"I didn't mean it!" When Rachel didn't immediately take her words at face value Quinn threw a hand up. "Obviously I wasn't being serious! It was a joke!"

"It was a joke?" she repeated slowly and Quinn nodded impatiently. "I don't get it."

"What do you mean: you don't get it? What is there to get?"

"The funny part. The part where questioning someone's relevance to our society based on their ethnicity is amusing. The part where threatening a man's life is . . ."

"Oh for goodness sake! It's not like I was actually going to kill him!"

"I know that, I hope!" she shot back, "but menacing a person into silence even with empty promises of violence isn't a punchline, Quinn!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. It was a mean thing to do. Can we go back to your house now?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh come on, Rachel. If we don't leave now we won't even make it up the stairs to your room before I have to be back here again." When Rachel shook her head, Quinn frowned. "We can talk about it more on the way if you really think we need to."

"I don't think we need to talk about it anymore."

Quinn missed the emphasis and smiled, "Good. Me neither. So let's . . ."

"I think you need to talk to someone about it though."

"You want me to apologize to the janitor." Quinn sighed and shrugged. "Fine. You're right. It's the right thing to do." She sighed again like she didn't really believe it, so maybe it was a little sweet that she was saying it to make her happy, but for Rachel a little sweet didn't come close to take away the sour taste of what she had just witnessed. "So I'll go do that and you'll wait here?"

Would she?

"Unless you need to see me do it," Quinn chuckled and looked uncomfortable when Rachel didn't even crack a smile. "I'll be quick."

"A sincere apology . . ."

Quinn switched instantly to, "I'll take my time."

Rachel watched as she walked away. Quinn had made it to the corner when Rachel squeezed her eyes closed, shook her head and called out to her. Quinn turned quickly with a smile like she'd been hoping for this.

"You should apologize, because what you said wasn't nice, but I can't wait for you." There she'd said it.

The smile didn't drop because Quinn didn't get it, yet. "Why? Do you have somewhere better to be?"

No, not really. She was just going home with a breaking heart. To parents who loved her to the moon and back that she wouldn't be able to share it with because she wasn't allowed to tell anyone about this difficult, wonderful, terrifying, amazing thing that was happening in her life. To a lonely bedroom where no friends would call around because she had squandered the chance to have friends in Glee club by favoring Quinn too much. None of that had mattered when she'd felt deep down that she was doing the right thing, but now . . .

"I don't think we can do this anymore," she said, sniffing as she felt her eyes fill with moisture.

"What? Because I said something mean to a janitor? Are you serious?"

"I think I am. It's not who you said it too, it's that you said it at all."

"But I didn't mean it!"

"But you still said it, Quinn!"

"So what!"

"Are you that ashamed to like me that you feel the need to pretend-threaten to kill someone?"

"What?" Quinn said again. "No!"

"Really? Because it feels like it."

"Really! I'm not thatashamed. I mean I'm not ashamed at all! . . . it's just . . . things are . . ."

"I know, complicated for you and you don't need the added pressure. You know I understand that. Can you understand that it's hard for me too? To feel the way I do for someone who is so terrified of being associated with me that they will threaten someone's life over it?"

"Okay, I over-reacted . . ."

"You always over-react, and I think that means this, us, however you want to define it, isn't good for either of us."

"Now who's over-reacting?"

"Am I? So what happens if Mr. Laxforth catches us swapping notes in class? Or if Ms. Hedges walks in on us talking in the gym one time? And what about Mr. Schuester? He knows, Quinn, he actually knows because you told him. If he says something to anyone can I expect to see his face as I pour milk on my cereal?"

"Don't be stupid. They don't put missing persons on the side of soya . . ." Quinn wasn't even taking this seriously and Rachel turned on her heel. "Oh Rachel, stop! Mr. Schue isn't going to say anything. He's a teacher! They, like, take an oath or something. And I only told him because, you know, I had to tell someone."

Rachel stared at her incredulously and waited for the penny to drop. It didn't take long to realize it wasn't going to. So should she point out just how unfair that was? No, screaming wouldn't be good for her voice.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "but I can't live with the fear of being caught anymore."

"Why? What do you have to worry about if we do get caught?" Quinn said snappishly. "Shouldn't that be my fear?"

"Apparently, and that's what scares me. Don't you get it? For as long as we hide this thing between us you're going to be jumping at every shadow!"

Quinn scowled. "You said you'd never demand that I come out."

Oh Barbra! How could someone so clever be so clueless sometimes? "And I never will!" Rachel looked at the door of her locker, but she didn't need anything in there enough to prolong this further. "I'll see you in Glee club on Monday, Quinn. Have a nice weekend."

Maybe Quinn watched her leave school with a forlorn look on her face. Rachel would never know because she didn't look back.