You're head is throbbing. You figure that's probably what woke you up. If only you could open your eyes. You decide to take a mental inventory. You feel all of your limbs resting uselessly around you. You can tell that you're fully clothed as well as some extra weight on top of you. You seem to be laying on your stomach on a very soft bed. There's a pillow under your head and the extra weight on you must be blankets.
You then realize what happened last night. Well most of what happened last night. When you wigged out because Rachel and David were kissing you started drinking hard. Then Santana found you and joined you, keeping up with you, but trying to decrease your intake at the same time.
Your stomach sinks when you realize what else went down last night. When Rachel hugged you from behind at the bar you brushed her off. You can still see the hurt look on her face. Then when David tried to help you out to the cab, you stuck your foot in front of him making him stumble into a very burly guy who apparently didn't know who David was because a fight ensued. The make up department is going to have a hell of a time covering up the shiner he now donned. And you can't stop a smile because as nice as he was to you last night, you wish you had done it to him.
A shrill ring fills the room and you groan wishing someone would turn it off. After a few seconds it abruptly stops and you hear someone moan in an answer. You really wish you could open your eyes, but there is light everywhere. You feel like you're on an operating table it's so bright.
"Hey baby," your best friend's voice mumbles somewhere close to you. You can't pinpoint direction because your head hurts too badly. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. We were just out really late last night and…" she pauses, "Yeah Q's here. She looks fine too." There's another pause, "I'm sorry. I love you too. See you later."
"Where are we?" you mumble against your pillow and feel her lay back down next to you.
"Casa de Berry I suppose," she sighs. You can tell that she's on the bed as well because there's a slight shift, "It's way too damn bright in here."
You finally manage to fight the light long enough to get your eyes open. They're squinted, but through them you see the fuzzy outline of mussed up brown hair. You smirk to yourself. Santana must have some serious bed head.
But when you brush the wild hair back, you see long eyelashes flutter open and hazy brown eyes attempting to focus on you. The hue of the skin around them and the shade of brown told you that those eyes certainly did not belong to Santana.
Your body isn't responding to any of your commands to get up and run away. You're stuck on the bed just looking at her. A smile slowly spreads across her face and she runs a hand through her wavy hair. "Good morning."
You mumble something that may or may not sound like good morning, but it makes her smile wider.
"How do you feel?" she rubs your back through the blanket.
Finally you regain some movement but it's only your neck as it turns your head to bury your face in the pillow. You groan in a reply.
At this, she full on laughs. You feel her slide out of the bed, but don't chance looking up. It's still too dangerous. Her voice is farther away when she adds, "I'll go get some coffee and breakfast. You two make yourselves comfortable."
"Thanks," Santana moans for the both of you.
Once you're sure she's gone, you have to ask, "Did I do anything stupid?"
"Nah," she answers. You feel her moving on the bed so you turn your head towards her, "Although you were a big baby when I tried to get you to change clothes. You fell on the bed twice because you thought you could do it yourself." Santana doesn't look like the disheveled mess that you feel. She looks pretty normal for her because she's always tired. Her hair is up and she's tucked under the blankets still trying to block out the sun.
"Did you have fun?" you ask. You're indirectly asking how it ended up with Andrew because last you remember Santana and Andrew were hanging all over each other.
She nods against the pillows. "Andrew asked me out again though."
"What'd you tell him?" you study her because Santana is or used to be a very impulsive person and you're not actually sure what she'd say.
Her eyes narrow at you, "What the fuck do you think I said?"
You know she's mad at you for thinking that she may have taken him up on his offer. You fumble with the words that reassure her that you were only curious, but before you can get them out she adds, "Me and Brit may be having some issues, but I will never hurt her like that."
"I know S," you sigh, "I just wanted to know if you let him down easy or you were a bitch about it." That's a lie, but it's better than admitting that you were thinking that your best friend would cheat on her girlfriend. Her emotional outburst means that she's not telling you the whole story, but if she didn't actually cheat then that's good enough for you.
"Oh," she calms down. "I told him that I'm with someone else. He asked if it was anyone as famous as him." Her eyes roll and a smirk plays on her lips, "I almost hit him, but I didn't."
"I'm so proud," you chuckle and prop her head up with your elbow to see her better.
"I told him that she was a choreographer on Broadway," she went on with a smug smile, "And she might not be as famous but she was ten times as hot." She giggled at herself and you can't help, but smile. "Anyway, it turns out that they know each other and he told me that Brittany talks about me all the time, bragging on me being a Med student and all. Then he asked me if I'd look at a rash on his back."
"You better get used to that, Dr. Lopez," you roll onto her back, "Or Dr. Lopez-Pierce or-"
"Okay you're starting to sound like my mom," she sits up, "And I'll tell you what I tell her, I'll do what I want to do when I want to do it."
"Or more accurately," you smile up at her, "You'll do what Brittany wants you to do when she wants you to do it."
She picks up a free pillow and hits you in the face with it. "I hate you."
You don't reply because you're stunned by the pillow. Not by the hit, but by the scent. It smells just like Rachel and you're once again lost in the euphoric haze. It dawns on you that you're laying in her bed, staring at her ceiling, covered with her blankets.
It's all too much for you and your system immediately overloads. You quickly get out of the bed against all the screaming protest from your muscles and brain. You glance at Santana who is carefully watching you, "Do you have a puke again?"
"Again?" you ask, shoulders slumping. You can't believe you really drank that much.
She nods, "I didn't actually know it happened until you and Berry got back to bed at like four." She slides out of bed and looks around, "This is not really what I expected."
You look around too and take in the bedroom, "What did you expect?"
"A gold star shaped bed and a wall of mirrors so she could look at herself all the time," Santana mentions in true snarky Santana style.
You see that the light colored curtains and bed linens contrast beautifully with the dark woods of the furniture. There is something so Rachel about it. Of course there are old Broadway posters on the walls and pictures scattered about.
"Check it out Q," Santana motions you over a grouping of pictures on the wall. You walk over to her and smile when you see the picture of your first National Show Choir win. One of your arms is looped around Rachel. Her eyes are closed because she's laughing and crying all at once. Brittany and Santana are in a mid-air hug off to the side. Puck and Finn are trying to act cool, but they can't contain their elated smiles. Everyone else is in various stages of celebration.
"Brittany has that picture somewhere too," Santana adds as she moves on to the other pictures.
You don't tell her that you have it framed and hanging on your living room wall next to your senior prom king and queen picture because you don't feel you've done anything since that garners a place on the wall.
"Breakfast!" you both hear Rachel sing from outside the bedroom door.
Santana is the first to walk out. She pauses as soon as she steps out and you look over her shoulder wondering what's up. "Wow," Santana lets out and continues walking. There's a sunken living room to your right and a dining room alcove to the left. Past the dining room is an open kitchen with a small table for four a few feet from the island in the kitchen.
"This is really nice," you comment as you both meet Rachel who is at the kitchen table.
"Thanks," she smiles sweetly at you and offers you a cup of coffee. You take it when a grateful smile. She hands Santana one and you all have a seat at the table. Muffins and fruit is passed around. You're not sure your stomach can take an orange yet so you stick with nibbling on a muffin.
Santana eyes Rachel who is visibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. You're quick to divert Santana's attention, "What was that place called that we went to last night?"
"Rain," Rachel answers, "I guess the back room is actually a bar in and of itself." She shrugs and sips her coffee.
After a moment of silence, Santana asks you, innocently enough, "What made you lose it last night?"
It takes you a second but you come up with a valid excuse, "The song. It got to me."
"Born This Way or Man's World?" She asks.
"Both I guess," you nod, "I mean they brought back all the memories of high school and stuff where we all had...dreams and we all knew what we were going to do. You two are living your dreams. I never... My dream was prom queen. I got that two years in a row and I never thought past that." It sounds pitiful and you don't want to talk about it so you place a 'shut up' look in Santana's direction.
Unfortunately Rachel picks up where Santana left off. "You said you were going to be a real estate agent and you were going to marry Finn and be stuck in Lima," Rachel narrows her eyes thoughtfully at you.
"That's not a dream," Santana shook her head moving her eyes to Rachel, "that's..."
"Realistically predicting the future?" You chance. That's pretty much what it was.
"Maybe it was self fulfilling prophecy," Rachel adds quietly as if saying it softly would have less of a chance of offending you.
Initially it does offend you. Like you keep yourself in Lima on purpose. You feel Santana tense because she knows you're upset. But after a moment you know she's right. You do keep yourself there but you have good reasons. You nod to assure yourself that they are good reasons.
Before you can form a mental list Rachel speaks up again, "What's your dream Quinn?"
You are is your immediate thought. She's your dream both literally and figuratively. When you see them both looking expectantly at you, you sigh, "I don't know. I'm just so... Fucked."
"No you're not," Rachel chides you. She leans forward, a determinate in her eyes that sends chills through your body, "You just have to figure out what you want and make it happen."
"It's not that easy," you sigh, sinking back into your chair.
"Is that anyway for Little Miss Lima 1995 to talk?" Santana quirks an eyebrow. You shoot her a small smile. She mirrors it and adds, "Q, you can do anything."
There used to be a time when you thought that was true. Now you're cynical. The hell that is Lima has jaded you. You sigh heavily in response.
Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand on top of yours, "I believe I can speak for Santana as well when I say we will definitely help you with any dream you have in any capacity we can."
Your arm twitches trying to get away from her touch but you tense your muscles making yourself stay. You can't stand being the cause of the hurt look on her face again.
"I'm with Berry on this," Santana confirms her commitment, "You're fuckin' miserable Q." There's something you know she's not saying and it makes you uncomfortable. You readjust in your chair and lick your lips suddenly parched.
"I don't believe I would have worded it like that but last night has led me to believe that you're not happy and you haven't been in a while. It breaks my heart to see you in pain Quinn. It always has." You turn to her look deeply into her eyes. You see that it's true and in her eyes she does look heartbroken.
You hate that you're the cause of it and you hate that making yourself happy in an attempt to make her happy would most definitely end badly, probably in your exile back to Lima with your tail between your legs.
So you force a convincing smile, "Thanks guys. I'll let you know when I figure it out."
She leans back in her chair, her hand slipping off of yours. She's looking at you with the studious eyes of someone searching for something. Whatever it is, you don't want her to find it so you turn to Santana only to find the same gaze.
"Please stop looking at me," you shoot out of your chair barely catching it before it tumbles to the ground. You start a retreat only to remember that this isn't your apartment and you're not at Santana's apartment where you have your own room. So you rush to the bathroom and shut the door.
That may have been your most cowardly run yet but between the two of them, they might figure out what's really wrong and you can't risk that. You're just grateful that Brittany isn't there because if she were you wouldn't have made it this far without her knowing.
The soft knock on the door doesn't surprise you. You know neither one will leave it alone until they're sure you're okay, or at least emotionally stable.
"Q?" Santana is on the other side of the door. "I'm sorry. Please come out. I gotta get to class but I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." She pauses, "if there's something important at the beginning of my class and I miss it and kill someone on the operating table it'll be on you."
Her threat is laced with a strange kind of teasing unique to Santana. You can't help but smile. You open the door that you never actually locked and Santana immediately hugs you.
"I'm sorry. I guess I really am fucked up." You sigh into her shoulder.
Her shoulders bounce with a laugh, "You're a little fucked up, but nothing that can't be fixed." She pulls away and looks you over, "Can I leave now? You're not going to try to drown yourself in the toilet or anything?"
You can't help, but smile. She's your best friend and she knows what'll make you laugh, "No. No toilet suicide."
She gives you another hug; "I gotta get going so I'm going to leave you in the care of the superstar. If you need anything call me and for the love of god don't go to that stupid conference. If you do you probably will kill yourself."
"But I-" you start as she pulls away, but she cuts you off.
"Are you really learning anything?" she asks and leads you out of the bathroom.
"Well no, but-"
Again she cuts you off, "Then you need to enjoy the city while you're still here." When you both enter the living room, you see Rachel still sitting in at the table in the same place you left her, thoughtfully watching you. When she sees you looking, she averts her eyes.
You let out a sigh, "You're right. Brit's working today?" You know the question may upset Santana, but if she's not working you'd really like to see her.
"When is she not?" Santana rolls her eyes and her shoulders fall.
You usher her to the door and give her another hug, "Someday you'll be a surgeon and she'll practically own Broadway," you throw a sideways glance back at Rachel, "along with our resident actress and you'll have all the time in the world together to be grotesquely affectionate and annoyingly adorable together. Just give it time."
"But I want her now," Santana stomps and pouts as she makes her way out the door. She throws over her shoulder, "Thanks for breakfast Berry."
You smile at the back of her advancing form before you close the door. When you turn around you find Rachel staring hard at the table, drawing nonsensical figures with her fingers.
You lean back on the door and stare at the floor for a few seconds trying to gather the courage to mumble the two hardest words you've ever had to string together. Finally you get it out, "I'm sorry." You immediately feel her eyes on you and you reluctantly meet them.
"No," she quietly adds, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you. I just really want to see you happy." She stands up and moves toward you.
With your back against the door you have no escape. So you stand there and wait for her to get to you, hearing her slow, deliberate footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. She stops right in front of you, insecurity written all over her face. She holds your eyes through the veil of her eyelashes before softly asking, "Can I give you a hug?"
You don't realize you nod until she latches to your waist, her head on your shoulder, whispering, "Can I tell you a secret Quinn?"
You're not sure if your fragile emotions can handle getting any closer to her, but you decide to risk it because she seems to be vulnerable right now and more than willing to share that with you. "Yes."
Your fingers of one hand play in her hair as the other hand holds her close. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think…." She trails off and pauses again. Then she starts again, "It feels like this is a dream."
When she doesn't continue, you have to ask, "Why is that?"
"Because," she pulls away to look you in the face. Her eyes holding yours in a virtual vice grip, "In high school, I always…felt for you. I always wanted to see you happy and never wanted you to be sad. We did have our differences, I know, but…I always feel like you saved me."
You're immediately confused. You treated her like shit up until senior year and even then you weren't the closest of friends. Of course, sometimes when you were both at a party and you were drunk you got a little over affectionate, but Rachel went with it.
She takes your hand and guides you into the living room. When she sits on the couch, you do the same and turn towards her. She licks her lips before she continues, "Remember what you told me a few weeks before graduation?"
You shake your head, but you know exactly what you said. You just want to know how much she remembers of your emotional outburst. You knew you were about to lose her, probably forever and you decided that the best way to deal with it was to push her out the door so you could pretend to have some control over it.
"Well," she lets out a wistful smile, "You told me that I didn't belong with you or Finn or Noah. And I didn't realize it at the time, but you were right. I'm a very organized person, but when I'm dating someone or best friends with someone a large portion of my attention is devoted to them and not what I need to be doing." She let's out a wider smile, showing her perfect teeth. "I always wondered why you kept me at arms length after we'd settled all of our differences. Then I figured it out." You feel your heart hammer and you hands start to shake. There's no way she knows. She can't know. Unless you said something last night….you start to really panic.
She rests a hand on your knee and you follow her delicate fingers up to her small wrist to her slender arms, past the curve of her neck and to her face where she's still smiling. Finally she speaks again, "You didn't want me to get attached to you. We could have very easily been best friends. But if we were, I'd become attached to you and there's no telling what I would have done."
You feel your whole body deflate. It's a relief and a disappointment. If she knew, you wouldn't have to hide it and although she doesn't feel the same way, you'd know she knew and you wouldn't feel so damn guilty every time she touched you. However if she knew the touches may stop. Things could get awkward and you may lose her for the short time you're still here.
You let out a convincing, although fake smile and nod, "You got me."
She leans forward and hugs you, "Well now we can be friends right? I've made it already so there's no reason for us not to?"
"Right," you nod, awkwardly patting her back. What's the harm in being besties? You're leaving tomorrow and god knows if you'll ever actually make it back.
When she pulls away there's a huge smile on her face, "So, I have to go apartment hunting today because it's one of my rare days off, but we can totally do something fun afterwards. I've already narrowed down the apartments I'm looking at so it shouldn't take more than a few hours. I'd really like for you to come and give me your honest input then we'll do something completely fabulous. Does that sound okay?"
You nod, "Sure. Although my expertise isn't-"
She holds up her hand, "Quinn I've done some research and have learned that you are the best real estate agent in Lima. Your expertise is just icing on the cake because I highly value the opinion of my friend, even if you weren't in your current profession."
You melt at her words. You know that you can't not go with her now. Not that you didn't want to go in the first place.
She stands up, "Although you're expertise is still valuable and I'll pay you."
The idea is slightly offensive. You don't take money from friends, "You're not paying me."
"I owe you two hundred dollars for singing anyway." She adds, making her way to the table.
You stay seated, watching her start to clean up the breakfast mess. You can't let her do that alone so you walk over and start picking up the trash, "I can't take that. Besides I have no idea who paid for the drinks last night. Put the money toward that because I'm sure I drank more than that."
"David paid for everyone's drinks last night," she explains nonchalantly, putting the leftovers on the island in the kitchen, "and he wouldn't take it anyway."
"What a gentleman," you state, the bitterness evident. You didn't mean for her to hear it, but she did and you watch her for a reaction.
"You don't like him do you?" Rachel tilts her head to the side with the question.
"I don't know him," you shrug hoping that she'll drop it.
Of course she doesn't, "But you don't like him. You laughed when he got punched in the face last night and you wouldn't let him touch you even to help you up the stairs."
"Look I'm sorry. I'm weird about people touching me and when I'm drunk I get mean. I didn't mean to offend you or your boyfriend." You spot the trashcan and use it as an escape from the conversation. However she's still looking at you when you're done slowly placing the trash in the bin.
You watch her teeth run over her bottom lip before she holds your eyes, "You didn't offend me. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I was just wondering why you don't like him."
"Why does it matter?" you sigh and move a few feet to the side, so that the kitchen island is between you. It feels safer that way.
She leans forward on the island, her hand roaming over a leftover orange. She looks at it and looks at you, "I just want my new favorite friend and my boyfriend to get along."
Her voice is soft and cautious, but her words drive into your chest like a thousand dull knives. As much as you've told yourself it will never work with her, you can't help but be crestfallen that she's dating someone else. You close your eyes because you're reeling. You feel like you may faint so you hold onto the counter to steady yourself.
After a brief battle with tears, you slowly open your eyes. She's moved so that she's right next to you. There's concern all over her face. You feel her take your hand before you see it. "Quinn, what's wrong?"
You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, "Residual alcohol. Puck tells me I'm a lightweight all the time."
"Do you need to go back to bed?" she lightly runs her fingers up and down your arm before she wraps her fingers around your bicep, slowly stroking it with her thumb.
You shake your head, trying to fight every urge you have to push her away and the other urges to pull her closer. "We should get going though right?"
Her eyes dart to the clock on the stove and she nods, "Yeah." She pulls you in for a brief hug before taking your hand and pulling you to her bedroom. Had your brain been functioning more than a zombie's you would have stopped this from happening.
Once in her bedroom, she lets go of your hand and steps into her rather large closet. "I'm sure there are things in here that fit you. After all you are wearing some of my clothes already."
You look down at yourself and finally notice that you're in a Shakespeare's Globe Theatre souvenir t-shirt and loose shorts that certainly aren't yours. You're relieved that you're still in the bra and panties you had on when you left Santana's apartment last night.
It doesn't take long for her to pick out something for you to wear. It does take you a while to actually change into it because she apparently has lost every shred of modesty she ever had and is now walking around her bedroom in her bra and pajama pants digging in drawers and moving back to her closet to pick out the perfect 'apartment shopping' outfit.
You stare hard at the bed until she has clothes on which took a long while because she keeps putting things on and taking them off. Finally you get out of the apartment and in a cab to the first place. You're met by a very friendly real estate agent on the front stoop that Rachel had called earlier.
"I'm Steven," he smiles politely to both of you. "It's an honor to finally meet you Ms. Berry."
She nods to him, "You too."
Then he turns to you. She smiles politely as well, "Quinn Fabray."
"She's a real estate agent as well," Rachel adds, "But now she's here in the capacity of friend."
He looks you over with a more scrutinizing eye because all real estate agents see each other as threats, especially when there's a sale on the line. You just quirk a non-threatened eyebrow at him, in a silent challenge. You can see the lines of his jaw tighten with a pained smile. You know you've won this silent exchange because you have the upper hand. His client is your friend and he knows that there are hundreds of other agents willing to jump on this.
"Well how about we go see the first one shall we?" he offers and leads the way into the security door. "As you can see this is a high security building. There are intercoms and buzzers linked from here to every apartment. The security door can only be opened from the buzzers or the inside. There are security cameras in the front hallway and looking right at us." He types in a code and the door pops open. "Every tenant has a unique code to get in which they set when they move in."
You look around the hallway as you walk in and study the wood paneling and the crown molding. When you look down you see that Rachel is looking expectantly at you. You shrug. You haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet.
However a few hours and six apartments later, Rachel was looking to you again. So far you'd found termites, leaky pipes, and obnoxious neighbors in the past apartments. If you didn't find something wrong with the physical makeup of the apartment, she found something wrong with the layout or the window to wall ratio.
You were now standing in the kitchen of the second to last apartment on the list. You'd learned a lot about New York real estate in the past few hours and so far this one looks okay. Structurally this is the best one of them all. The building was built in 1922, remodeled two years ago. The kitchen appliances are brand new and the floors were recently refinished.
Rachel's happily running around from room to room while you follow her, checking the everything you can think of. For the kind of money Rachel was going to spend for it, you had to make sure it was flawless.
Finally you're both standing in the middle of the living room. She's looking to you for final approval. You cross your arms and eye the agent. He's been following you from apartment to apartment, watching you pick apart every single one. You're sure he hates you by now but you don't really care.
You turn back to Rachel so that your back is to him. You give her a playful smile and a wink before stating, "I don't know about this place Rach. The ceiling is starting to bow in the bathroom."
Her eyes betray the seriousness on her face. She quietly gasps and leans to the side so she can peer down the hallway to the guest bathroom. "Really? I really love this place. How much does that cost to fix?"
"It depends on what's causing it," you go on. You can see the other agent shift his weight. He already has his phone in his hand, texting away, "It can go from a thousand to almost ten thousand. There could be mold if it's from water and there are some molds that are just too dangerous to live with. You may have to demo the whole bathroom. That could be upwards of nineteen thousand."
Rachel's eyes dart from the other agent to you. You can tell she's trying to squash a smile. She finally puts on her serious face and walks over to Steven. "Steven," she says his name sweetly, like she's trying to let him down easy.
His phone dings and he quickly checks it, "I just spoke with the owners of this apartment and they're willing to come down ten thousand and take care of all the closing costs."
She looks back at you with a gleeful smile on her face. You nod and she turns back to him, "Deal."
After the agent tells her that he'll get the paperwork done and have it sent to her, you both take a cab to one of her favorite vegan haunts and have a late lunch.
"Is there anything you want to do on your last day here?" she asks, stirring her soup in lazy circles.
You shrug. Hanging out with her is all you can ask for because tomorrow is back to reality. You like the whimsy that New York affords you.
"There's got to be something," she prods, "We can do anything. What have you not gotten to do yet?"
You think about it for a moment. You wish you had gotten to spend more time with Brittany. You feel like you need more of her sunshine and you tell Rachel so. "That's pretty much it. I mean, I can't think of anything I really want to do. I'm happy to just chill for a while."
Her smile is wistful and her eyes flicker down to her food, "That is still so weird to me to you like hanging out with me."
"Why is it weird?" you ask. You place your elbow on the table and your chin in your hand.
"You were always so much cooler than me," her eyes shyly move from her bowl to you, "I think that in high school, more than wanting Finn to be my boyfriend, I wanted you to be my best friend."
You chuckle to yourself because right now, more than anything you want her to be your girlfriend. She doesn't know that so you just blink slowly and shake your head, "We should have been best friends."
"We can be now," she offers, a definitely nervousness in her voice.
You nod. Being best friends with her is dangerous if you're always going to be around each other, but when you're back in Lima it won't matter. She can be the best friend you tell everyone about, but no one ever meets because she lives so far away. You can talk on the phone as much as she wants and video chat when you both have the chance. She can tell you all her secrets and you can keep them safe for her. You can tell her about your day and she can pretend it doesn't bore the crap out of her. "Definitely."
Her smile is wide when she finally looks back at you. She brushes some of her bangs out of her face and adds, "Great. Now all my high school goals have been accomplished." You both laugh and you wish deep down that everyday could be like this.
"Um…" a teenaged girl appears next to your table clutching a memo pad and a pen, "Miss Berry? C-c-can I have your autograph?"
You can't help, but burst with pride. You can see that Rachel loves this. She graciously takes the pad and paper from the girl and asks what her name is. After commenting on how beautiful the girl's name is, she takes her time writing a generically personal note to the girl. When the girl asks you to take her picture with Rachel you agree.
Once the girl has told Rachel how much she admires her and Rachel thanks her profusely, you just want to grab Rachel in a bear hug and tell her how proud you are of her. Of course since that would take hours to articulate just how proud you are, you settle for a knowing smile.
"You really did it," you sigh, watching her lean on the table her bangs sweeping across her eyes.
She grins and nods back, "I did huh?"
"I'm so proud of you," you let out before you can restrain yourself. If you had waited any longer you would have just kept your mouth shut.
The smile on her face disappears and the edges of her eyes get pink as tears form, "Really?"
You're distraught by her sudden change of demeanor. She was just smiling and now she looks like she's about to cry, "Of course I am." You have no idea what else to say because a single tear trails down her face.
She smiles and wipes it away, lowering her head, "I just…no one really says that to me except my dads. It actually means a lot coming from you too."
You never knew your opinion mattered that much to you so you reach across the table and take her hand, gently stroking her knuckles with your thumb. "If I would have known that I would have said it a lot sooner."
After a friendly lunch, she drags you a few blocks in some direction. You have no idea where you are, but you'd follow her all over the city. Being with her in this amazing city places you in a state of constant awe.
You've been staring at a street performer so long that you don't notice that she's on her phone until you hear her talk. "Yeah we're outside." You turn around and look at the building you've been standing in front of for an indefinite amount of time because you've been so entertained by the juggler, you hadn't even noticed that you'd stopped walking.
You can't help, but look back to the entertainer who had started playing the harmonica while juggling. You need to start to pull out your wallet to walk over and give him some cash when two arms wrap around your shoulders.
When you turn your head and you see big blue eyes framed by blonde bangs. The way the eyes shine immediately makes you smile. You hold Brittany by her waist and squeeze her to you. She laughs her infectious laugh and squeezes you back.
When you realize that this was all part of a plan, you turn to Rachel and sweep her into your arms. Her mouth is close to your ear as she giggles in your arms. You decide to go with it instead of panicking. This is your last day here and you're going to take advantage of it. You close your eyes and enjoy the fact that her breath on your neck warms your whole body and that Brittany has put her arms around both of you in a group hug.
"I hate to break up this love-fest, but we have to go pick up Santana," Rachel mumbles into your shoulder.
At that, you're almost desperate to get away from her because of how much you were turn on by her lips moving against you, even though there was a layer of fabric between the two. You take a step back at Brittany picks Rachel up and spins her around. Then Brittany practically jumps out in front of a cab to stop it so you can get going.
You can't help, but smile at how eager Brittany is to get to Santana. You wonder what it's like to have a love like that, especially when someone is so eager to see you as well. Brittany's practically vibrating in her seat.
"I hope that your boss isn't too upset with you," Rachel mentions to Brittany, "I just wanted you, Quinn, and Santana to get to spend some time together before she leaves."
Brittany shrugs, "He didn't seem made. He seemed kinda sad. What did you tell him?"
"That your brother was in an accident," Rachel leans into you and wraps her hands around your arm.
You smile and lean back into her. Maybe for these last few hours you can pretend like she's in love with you and maybe get it out of your system. Then you turn your head to her and you're able to smell her hair which tells you that no, you'll never be able to get enough of her.
"I don't have a brother," Brittany has on her adorably confused face. Like that time you tried to explain to her how to open her locker for the first time or every time she had a Spanish test. Then it clicks and she lets out a smile, "You lied."
"Well I…" Rachel contorts her face, trying to think of something that doesn't make it sound like she lied to get Brittany out of work. She finally smiles and nods against your shoulder, "I lied."
When the cab pulls to a stop, Brittany jumps out of the car and disappears into her apartment building, leaving you and Rachel in the dust. Rachel pays the cabbie and keeps her hold of your arm as you walk into the building. "Tell me that is not the cutest thing you've ever seen."
"Well I did see them when they first got together," you wistfully smile, "But yeah they're pretty cute."
"It must be nice ya know?" her smile fades and her presses the button for the elevator. "Being in love like that." She deeply sighs and puts your arm around her as she slides her arms around your waist.
You nod. You figure if the love goes both ways it must be nice because this one-way thing is a torturous hell.
"How much do you want to bet that Brittany was so impatient she took the stairs?" Rachel asks as she pulls away from you. The elevator doors open and you both step in. You've had a fantasy that started like this. The next part of the fantasy is a blackout. It ends with the rescue workers prying the doors open as you both try to fix your clothes to make it look like you've been wearing them the whole time.
When you get to the apartment, you find the door wide open and Brittany with her arms wrapped around Santana. They're both just standing their holding each other. You can't see Brittany's face, but Santana's eyes are closed and she's wearing a content smile.
"Not that I don't love this," Santana pulls away slightly. She opens her eyes and sees you and Rachel standing at the door, "But to what do I owe this? No one's died or hurt right?"
"Just Brittany's brother," you nudge Rachel's shoulder with your own and you, Rachel and Brittany giggle while Santana quirks an eyebrow.
Brittany patiently explains, "Rachel called my director and told him that my brother was in an accident and that she was on her way to pick me up."
"Why didn't I think of that?" Santana grins and kisses Brittany.
You pull Rachel all the way into the apartment and close the door behind her. You notice that she seems nervous so you put your hand on the small of her back in reassurance. She looks up at you with a thankful smile.
Rachel finally announces, "I thought that since Quinn is leaving toward tomorrow, despite my best attempts to keep her here, "she glances at you with a disappointed smile before turning Brittany and Santana, "We should all spend the evening together."
Santana nods and looks from Rachel to you, "I agree."
Brittany breaks away from Santana and wraps her arms around your neck, "I'll miss you, like a lot."
You smile into her shoulder, "I'll miss you too Brit."
"But she'll come back," Rachel adds. You can feel her hand on your back and you squeeze Brittany a little tighter, to relieve the tension the simple touch has caused you. "A lot. Because if she doesn't we'll all go back to Lima and kidnap her."
You laugh as Brittany pulls away. The blonde takes your hand and swings them between you. "You better." Her eyes are earnest.
"I will," You say, although you're sure it's a lie. You look across the room at the one person who can tell you're lying and you see that she knows.
Santana clenches her jaw and lets out a heartbreaking sigh. Your smile falls and you walk over to her. When you pause in front of her, you open your arms and she steps into them. She doesn't like this touchy feely crap unless it's with Brittany, but she knows you probably won't see each other in a long time after tomorrow.
"Why can't you just stay?" her voice is weak and you're the only one that hears it. You know she needs someone to be there for her and it rips you up that you're going to leave her.
"I'm sorry San," you sigh into her. Her muscles seem to tense under you and you know she's just become strong for you because you need it now. You close your eyes and pull away before you both start to cry, which you both hate.
You turn back and see Brittany looks sad, while Rachel's eyes are watery. You shake your head to keep from crying on your own. "So where are we go?"
"Do you want to go clubbing or have a low key night?" Rachel asks.
Brittany slides up next to you and takes your hand again. You smile at her and squeeze her hand. She smiles back which melts your heart.
"Low key," you reply, "Definitely low key."
"We should hit up that new lounge on 34th," Santana offers, looking at Brittany, "Have you seen it?"
"Baby I haven't seen anything but the inside of the theatre for weeks," Brittany lets go of you and wraps her arms around Santana's hips.
Santana opened her mouth to speak, but a ringing interrupted her. Brittany and Rachel automatically check their phones, but Rachel's the only one who answers. With a smile on her face she said, "Hey you."
That's sickeningly sweet tone of her voice means that David is on the other end of the line. Your stomach churns with the telltale signs of vomiting. You clench your jaw, determined not to make a fool of yourself this time. Just because she's not yours doesn't mean you can act like a child every time you see or hear them together.
"You did?" her voice raises and she courteously steps away from you to continue her conversation. You watch her every movement. How her head bows and how her face lights up, "Tonight?"
You heart falls to your feet. He wants to take her out tonight and she's going to blow you off because he's more important, only solidifying for you that there never has been or ever will be a chance for you two.
"Actually babe," the term of endearment that comes out of her mouth makes you clench your jaw. You feel bad that you hate him because he seems like a good guy. "I can't tonight. It's Quinn's last night in town…I know, but this is important…No you go ahead and go. Take Andrew or Sydney or someone….okay…yeah you too." She hangs up and rejoins your semi-circle, "Okay, so where are we going?" She loops her arm through yours.
You smile. At least for right now, you rate above her boyfriend and that's good enough for you. Your eyes finally scan Santana and Brittany. Santana is explaining to Rachel where you're all going, but when you find Brittany you see a studious stare that frightens you. She's looking at you, analyzing your body language and the way your face emotes. You immediately look down and take your arm away from Rachel, "I-uh-gotta make a call. I'll be right back." You retreat to your temporary room and close the door. You hope that Brittany hasn't figured it out. Not right before you leave.