SO it's been a little while, and things are starting to get a little interesting [i'm a few chapters ahead as of now and it's INTENSE so I decided to break and update instead lol] This one's a bit risque so, there's your warning. I hope you all are enjoying the ride. As always, thank you thank you thank you for the reviews. So very appreciated. You guys make me smile :)
x-leanmean
She hadn't heard from Rachel in days.
Normally, Quinn wasn't one to get all up in someone's face, but with Rachel, she just... wanted to know that she's well. So she took matters into her own hands.
Well, kind of, if following around Brittany until she finally told her where Rachel lives counts.
Brittany only knew the right building, having dropped Rachel off there once when she was in a hurry, but with that information Quinn turned on her super sleuthy reporter skills and starting skimming mailbox names. Not that there was a R. Berry anywhere, because that would be too easy. So she knocked on doors, crossing off the apartments as she narrowed down the list of unlabeled boxes.
Creepy? Sure, but effective.
Turns out she would make one hell of a door to door sales person if the whole magazine thing falls through. But finally, she narrowed it down to one rather nondescript door, the last one on her list of twelve, and her last hope at finding Rachel.
Actually standing outside of the door, Quinn just feels horribly awkward. How is it her and Rachel have never exchanged phone numbers? She really had to remember that next time. Knocking quietly, she steps back and waits. Maybe she should try the sales bit with her too? Hello Miss, have I got a deal for—Quinn stops as a shadow passes behind the peekhole, jumping as the door flings open. Rachel with her hair disheveled, tucked in a pile on the top of her head, widens her eyes in surprise as Quinn smiles hesitantly at her, rooted to her spot on the front mat.
So not awkward.
Sticking her head out the door frame, Rachel looks up and down the hallway for the hoard of people she apparently thinks Quinn travels with, her eyes finally coming to rest on the blonde in front of her with an eyebrow raised in question.
"Hi." Quinn says, shrugging her shoulders.
"Get in here."
She jumps inside the doorframe as Rachel slams the door shut behind her, locking two deadbolts.
"A little security conscious?"
Rachel's wary eyes and half smile make Quinn's heart flutter.
"Clearly not enough. Now, how exactly did you find my apartment?" She adds, breezing out of the foyer. Quinn slips off her shoes and scrambles to catch up, unsure if she's in trouble or not. She peeks around the rooms of the apartment as they pass by.
It's cozy. She likes it.
"I have ways of finding people. Kind of a perk of the job," Quinn says, sliding to a stop in her socks by the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Rachel scoffs, washing her hands before sticking them back into a mixing bowl of ingredients.
"Well that doesn't seem like a gross misuse of power at all, Quinn Fabray."
Quinn chuckles, sticking her finger in the bowl. Rachel's huffs and pulls the bowl towards her, her efforts to appear angry doing little to dampen the pleasant glow of surprise still shining in her eyes.
"Okay maybe I asked Brittany. Whatchya ...making?" Quinn says, noticing the fresh baked goods spread around the apartment. Rachel grabs a spoon and pauses, her forehead creasing with worry before she starts stirring. She adds a touch of cinnamon.
"Muffins."
"Mmmm, I see and at one point does one stop making muffins?" Quinns starts, circling around the bar to stand behind Rachel, eyeing the stacks of muffin mountains all over the counters. "Not that I mind, I like muffins."
She chuckles, slapping Quinn's hands away from her waist as she moves to pour the batter in the muffin pan.
"So I've heard."
Quinn gasps in mock horror, a hand covering her mouth.
"Rachel! I'm apalled!"
Rachel giggles, swiping batter from the rim of the bowl and slipping it suggestively into her mouth as Quinn traps her between her arms against the countertop.
"Oh, my apologies, Miss Fabray."
Quinn grins at her, happy that she's at least smiling, let alone trying to be sexy with a smear of batter above the right corner of her mouth. Reaching up to cup her face in her hands, she turns it from side to side feigning inspection.
"Yep, I thought so. You even wear muffin well."
Rachel's smile drops to a pout as Quinn chuckles, leaning in to suck the batter off her lip gently.
"All better." She adds, her eyes shining warmly. Sunday mornings with Rachel is something she could get used to very quickly.
"You, my dear," Rachel starts, slipping away from Quinn to put dirty measuring cups into the sink. "Are a tease. Now what exactly brings you around on this fine day?"
Quinn watches her as she moves about the kitchen, tidying up and strangely disconnected.
"I was worried."
Rachel stops and turns to her, a knowing look in her eyes.
"...about what exactly?"
"You ran out on Friday and I didn't get to talk to you..." Quinn pauses as she gauges Rachel's reaction. Relief? Maybe? Her face reddens as Quinn stutters on.
"...and I hadn't heard from you and it is now Sunday. So. I came looking."
"I see," Rachel says, rinsing off her hands and wiping them on the dish towel. "Well, as you can see, I am quite alright. You may feel free to let yourself out when you are ready."
Quinn knits her eyebrows together, following Rachel as she suddenly storms out of the kitchen and towards the living room.
"Uhh yeah well when I'm ready I'll do that. It's good to see that you're alright, now if you could show me why you're acting like a total douche that would be great, too."
Rachel scoffs, her hand to her chest, as she turns to face Quinn, anger in her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry Quinn. Maybe I have lots of reasons as to why I'm acting like a douche. Maybe you don't get to know these things because you've been in my life for a week. I don't owe you anything and I don't appreciate you coming into my home and using that tone."
Quinn sticks her hands up in forfeit, chasing after Rachel as she turns on her heel and continues down the hallway.
"I'm sorry Rachel but I'm on your team here. I don't know how else to prove that to you. If you're upset I just-" Quinn feels her voice catch in her throat as Rachel stops dead in front of her, the anguish in her voice clear even without seeing her face.
"You don't know me, Quinn Fabray... You dont know anything about me."
And with that, she steps into her room and slams the door.
Quinn runs a hand through her hair and exhales slowly. Okay. Here she thought they could do brunch and spend the day cuddled up on the couch. This is definitely not that. Sighing, she leans against the doorjamb and slides to the floor.
"Rachel..."
"Go away Quinn!"
So let's consider the obvious. She seemed fine during her performance on Friday...more than fine. Totally hot, actually. Then someone else ended up singing her part in the second act because she had disappeared. Brittany had told her a bunch of guys had shown up asking for her but no one could find her. And now here she is locked in her room, crying.
Quinn bangs her head quietly against the door frame at the sound of Rachel's quiet sobs inside. Had to date girls, Fabray.
Sighing, Quinn pulls herself up and heads back down the hallway, searching for the bathroom. Whatever it is that's bothering her, she's not just going to leave her alone, no matter what she may want. After washing her face to help calm her nerves, Quinn searches meticulously through the drawers. Finding what she needs, she turns back down the hall to Rachel's room and gets on her knees, wiggling the bobby pin inside the lock hole.
Come on.
She bites her lip. When the lock pops open she tosses the bobby pin over her shoulder and fist pumps, then realizing she has to actually go in to the war zone, stands quietly and smooths out her hair. Better to die trying, she thinks, but ironing out the fearful grimace on her face is still pretty challenging. Pushing open the door quietly, she says a silent prayer.
The room is a simple blue, darker than the sky and a little warmer, like a blue jay, and Quinn is overcome with how... Rachel it is. The furniture is oversized and elegant, almost obstinate in the tiny room. Yet the flowing white drapes and bedding add comfort, pops of coziness in the shag rug, the vase of lilies and pictures of her family dawning the dresser tops. It's inviting in the best way, except for Rachel, who lays face down, her shoulders heaving in the pile of pillows on the giant bed.
Quinn approaches her quietly, not quite committed to this actually being a good idea. But when Rachel whimpers quietly from under the comforter, Quinn's lifting it and sliding in beside her without hesitation, her arms wrapping around the girl as she pulls her face into her chest. She doesn't say anything. Rachel clings to her, buried into her neck, and she knows she doesn't need to. In minutes, the girl is heavy against her and snoring softly, passed out like she hasn't slept in weeks. Quinn runs her fingers through the brunette's hair and sighs.
Maybe she doesn't know Rachel, but she'd like to. Doesn't that mean something? As far as she's concerned, there's plenty of time for Rachel to come to terms with letting her into her life, and, for however long that takes, she would wait.
Pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, Quinn snuggles in a little closer, her eyes drifting shut as Rachel nestles safely in her arms.
Hell, she would wait forever if she had to, she'd already waited her whole life as is.
"I just think we're going about this all wrong, Vince."Leo says, sitting in the chair across from him and crossing his legs, his fingertips peaked together in front of his face. "We've gone after Rachel Berry ten different ways and yet somehow, she always escapes. We've lost our element of surprise with her. We don't even know where she lives yet."
Vince looks at the T.V. in the corner, muted as it covers some new update on another war overseas. Everyone always fighting, always struggling to get on top, sometimes he just gets tired of having to be the boss. Sometimes he just wants to be a family man.
Looking back at Leo, he reaches for the remote on his desk, clicking the power button.
"So you come here now with an idea, yes?"
Leo clears his throat and leans forward, sliding a picture towards him.
"I think if you want to grow roses in your garden, sometimes you have to give them a reason to bloom. So, I'm suggesting we… add a little sunlight to the backyard."
Vince flips the picture over carelessly and raises an eyebrow. The blonde behind the photography camera is beautiful, a smile lighting up her whole face as she touches Rachel Berry's shoulder. Yes. Maybe a little sunshine is exactly what the doctor ordered. Sliding the picture back, Vince dismisses him with a wave of his hand and leans back into the plush leather of his chair.
"Do what you do, Leo."
Thank God at least one of his men is capable.
Quinn wakes with a start, popping her head up out of the nest of pillows, her mouth pasty and dry. Pushing her hair off of her forehead she turns to look over her shoulder, but the bed is empty and the quiet humming from down the hall has Quinn rubbing her eyes and adjusting her clothes. She would go into a coma the first time she sleeps at Rachel's. Now she's never going to pull off that oh I always wake up looking this great attribute she was hoping to. Rachel probably looks perfect, she thinks, shuffling down the hall. Sure enough, Rachel has a stack of french toast laid out on the table with silverware, her hair perhaps neater than when she first fell asleep, and her eyes bright like the morning sun.
"Hey sleepy head."
Mumbling, Quinn sits in the chair and waits for her eyes to adjust to the kitchen lights. Rachel puts a plate in front of her, dousing it in syrup.
"Did you sleep well?"
Scratching her arm, Quinn nods and reaches for a fork. Rachel chuckles, slipping into the chair across from her.
"Good. I hope you like french toast."
Taking her first bite, Quinn groans in pleasure and gives Rachel a thumbs up. The girl even made perfect fluffy breakfasts. Bliss. Sipping out of her mug, Rachel clears her throat and reaches for Quinn's hand as it shovels more food into her mouth.
"Quinn."
Setting her fork down, Quinn stares at her, the stirrings of thought beginning in the back of her mind."I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. Even though you just showed up here without permission, I know you did it with good intention and I actually didn't mind. So I'm sorry and also, I put my phone number in your phone."
Chuckling, Quinn nods and pats her hand, picking her fork back up as she replies.
"I'm sorry I violated your personal space, although I'd like to remind the jury that there was a time you once stalked me in the night. " Rachel pours syrup on her own food, cutting a section with her fork while she laughs.
"Yeah, well I can think of other ways you could violate my personal space."
Quinn swallows slowly, watching Rachel as she cuts methodically. You would think she would be used to it by now, the way Rachel switches gears so quickly.
"You… what?" Quinn says, staring at the brunette as she lifts her eyes to meet hers and smiles.
"Nothing, darling." She adds, patting her hand. "We'll talk about it after lunch."
Quinn nods and tries to go back to her plate, but suddenly, she wasn't so hungry, well, for french toast, anymore.
The soft patter of rain against the windows is delicate, an after thought almost, like Rachel's gentle kisses chasing hidden paths across her skin. There was a time when, for Quinn, their bodies pressing perfectly together was but a secret dream meant only for the night. Then Rachel slipped out of her sweats and quietly into her arms and Quinn stumbled, her heart beating in every inch of her body like she was underwater, and she knew that drowning would be so very sweet.
Her breath hitches as Rachel nips at her hip bone, her playful chuckle drowned out by the husky moan Quinn lets slip when Rachel tastes her hesitantly. She's almost self conscious of the warm brown eyes watching her every move. A deep stroke against her core sends those brown eyes rolling back in pleasure, and Quinn whimpers, realizing that watching Rachel enjoy her is almost more of a turn on than the actual act itself.
Almost.
A prickling heat thrums its way up her abdomen, settling across the base of her neck and she flexes her fingers, clenching the sheets in her hands. Thrusting up ever so slightly, Rachel hands move to her hips and below, tracing along the gentle curve of Quinn's butt. She lifts her to meet her mouth, the feather light brushes of her tongue stealing the air from Quinn's chest as her eyes flutter shut, relishing in the warmth of Rachel deep within her.
But only for a second.
She groans as Quinn tugs her away, back up to her face where she presses Rachel's mouth firmly against her own.
"Together, Rach."
And they do. Thighs straining valiantly against the work of each others' hands, they meet in the middle, a tangle of skin and soft touches, murmured thoughts and stolen kisses.
Sighing blissfully as her heartbeat slows, the shivers of electricity crackling along her skin, Quinn leans her head against the brunette curled into her and smiles sleepily.
The real thing is so much better than her dreams.
"Who are you, Rachel Berry."
Rachel chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the blonde's neck.
"Everything you've ever wanted, doll."
And Quinn knows, she's right.
And thus things continue as they do. Quinn goes to work and swims in praise, swamped with calls from businesses wanting a "Black Cat" insider of their own while her evenings are consumed by the girl that's no longer just a part of her dreams. In fact, she often rushed through her days just to get home to her, and everyone at the office had to come to terms with the blonde being this new, not married-to-the-job kind of Quinn they'd never met before. Even the slightest thought of Rachel would send Quinn into the memories streaming continuously in the back of her mind: long fingers trailing lazily along skin, Rachel's hair splaying across the bare sheets as she slept, the cool shimmer of her skin in the moonlight, and then she was done for the day. One time she was sure she caught Rachel's scent in the hallway and an intern ran her down with the mail cart. She couldn't help it, her focus had changed and now she was totally lost without the brunette at her side. Santana calls her pathetic but to Quinn, the deep ache in her stomach is... hope. It's happiness. Like for years she had been empty, and is now so full she doesn't quite know how to function.
She had finally found her someone, and together, they could just be.
The sound of the deadbolt turning rips Rachel from her pleasant state of pre-sleep, the pounding heartbeat in her ear almost loud enough to drown out the quiet snoring of Quinn stretched out against her side.
"Quinn." She whispers as she crawls over her, yanking her half sleeping form towards the window. Which one was it? How did they find her? How long have they known?
"Quinn, wake up!"
Quinn moves with Rachel incoherently, mumbling as she takes her first step out of the bed. Her sleepy eyes see the panic on Rachel's face and lose their haziness immediately, her hoarse whisper alert and urgent in the darkness.
"Rachel, what are-"
"There's someone in here." She says, sliding the window up quietly. "Please, just get outside."
The sound of something falling in the kitchen has both girls scrambling soundlessly out the window, quivering naked in the moonlight. Rachel pushes the window down as Quinn scuttles onto the opposite ledge, crouching against the cool brick of the building. For a second all she can think is thank goodness she chose the apartment with the wide gothic ledges instead of the sleek modern place uptown, but then she catches a glimpse of flashlight beaming in her room and she stands, pressing herself flat against the gritty surface. On the other side of the window, Quinn's face is pale and turned towards her, her eyes wide with fear.
Rachel's lip trembles. She thought she would be safe once she left the club. She should have never let Quinn stay here. She worked so hard to keep her out of this and now here she is, smack in the middle.
The sound of the apartment being ripped apart tears her from her thoughts as she boils quietly with rage. This was not her choice. At the sound of glass breaking she no longer has to wonder who is inside, but she can feel the questions radiating off Quinn's skin, filling the three feet between them.
Standing exposed with the girl she loves, thousands of feet above the busy streets of New York City, with her safe haven being torn to pieces, Rachel feels so very tiny. For the first time ever, just one single question burns a hole through the back of her mind.
What now?
dun dun duuunnnnnnn