Jake joins you and Brittany on the bed. You're all laying out watching a TV movie. You're not really paying attention as much as internally panicking that someone knows your secret. You didn't get a chance to tell Brittany that she can't tell anyone before Jake walked back in.
You kept looking at her, trying to catch her eyes, but her eyes were glued to the TV. You pull a pillow over your face and take a deep breath. You feel safe under the pillow so you keep it there for a few moments that is until the door opens again.
"What are you doing?" Rachel's eyes lock onto yours that are peaking out from under the pillow, "The party is out here…" Her eyes flicker away from yours, "Although your party looks more fun than this one and a lot more…racy."
You take the pillow off of your head to try to figure out what she's talking about. You finally realize that your head is on the bed next to Jake's waist and Brittany is spooned behind you. When you look behind you the blue eyes meet yours and you vigorously shake your head. Recognition crosses Brittany's face and she nods.
When you turn back to Rachel, she's eyeing you suspiciously. You do your best to look innocent. Rachel turns her attention to Jake, "You can go home. I'm sure we can take care of it from here."
"You sure?" he asks, handing you the champagne and standing up.
She nods with a smile, "Have fun."
He hugs her and walks out of your room with a smile back to you. You smile back. As he walks out your eyes follow him until he walks behind Rachel. You see that she's carefully watching you and you immediately look away. You don't know why you feel guilty, you just do.
Rachel closes your door and walks to the bed, taking his place. She runs her fingers through your hair before gathering you up in her arms. "I appreciate you keeping my assistant warm for me."
You chuckle against her neck, completely at ease with her now. You can feel her reach behind you and pull Brittany closer so that you've become a very warm Quinn sandwich.
"Are you having fun Brittany?" Rachel asks, stroking your forearm as she pulled it around her waist.
"Yeah," Brittany quietly says into your hair, "But I should probably go home and talk to Santana."
"Are you sure?" Rachel asks and you close your eyes feeling her body vibrate with the words. You can't stop your thumb from gently stroking her hip through her dress. "You're very welcome to stay here. Especially if you've helped with this." She picks up the champagne bottle that's almost empty. You can't stop a smile as she polishes it off.
"I'm fine," Brittany squeezes you before disappearing all together, "Thanks Q. You're the best."
"You are too," you reply and after she says goodbye to Rachel she leaves.
Rachel rubs your back, "You don't have to come out to the party, but I'm going to. If someone moves my autographed picture of Barbra, I'll lose it."
You chuckle and roll off of her onto your back. "I'll be out in a minute. I just need to change."
"Why are you all business-y anyway?" she gestures to your clothes.
You grin because you completely forgot about the reason for the suit and the champagne. "I did something really awesome today."
"You got a job?" you love how excited she is and how she leans forward so she can make sure to catch everything you say.
"Even better," you wiggle a little on the bed in excitement, "I sold your apartment."
Her eyes light up, "You did?" When you nod she jumps on you in a full body hug. You're used to her affection by now, but in this compromising position and your current, semi-drunken state you contemplate doing things to her that make you blush.
She sits up and pouts. "You didn't save any champagne for me. I want to celebrate with you."
You can't help, but bite your lip because she's straddling your hips and you are beyond turned on right now. Your hands are on her thighs, but if she noticed, she doesn't care. "There's another bottle in the freezer."
"We can uncork it when everyone leaves," she hugs you one last time before crawling off of you. "Oh and we can get in our pajamas and watch Funny Girl until we fall asleep or you make me change it because I'm singing along too loud." She brushes some hair out of your face with a sweet smile, "I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm glad you let me stay here," you look back into her eyes and know at that moment you've never and never again will be in love like this.
"I'll come find you when everyone leaves," Rachel winks at you, "Which will probably be soon. Then we can open all of our presents." With that she disappears.
You change into your pajamas, which are strategically picked out. They're conservative enough to not be over-exposing, but skimpy enough to get maximum skin on skin contact when Rachel wants to cuddle.
When you look at yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. She deserves to know. You feel like a creeper for taking advantage of her affectionate nature. All you want to do it be around her and touch her.
You pick up your phone and call the one person who you can talk to about this problem.
"Hey Q," Brittany answers happily.
"Hey, are you busy?" you ask, hoping that you didn't just interrupt some of her and Santana's rare moments alone.
"Mmm, no," the other blonde replies, "I'm getting Santana's favorite coffee before I go home."
"Aww," you can't help, but coo.
She giggles into the phone, "Are you okay Q?" Her change of tone throws you off. She goes from giddy to sympathetic in a matter of milliseconds, "I'm sorry I said that you were in love with Rachel out loud."
"No, it's okay," you sigh and sink onto the coffee table, "I just…I feel bad."
"Why?"
"Because she hugs me and likes to cuddle all the time and…she doesn't know how it makes me feel," you run your hand over your face and try to shake the mental image of Rachel straddling you out of your brain.
"Well she likes it right? Or she wouldn't do it," Brittany states and pauses. You hear a man say 'thank you' before Brittany speaks again, "She doesn't have to know that you like it more than she does. Like when I go down on Santana. I'm pretty sure I like it more than she does, even though she likes it a lot. She kinda tastes like-"
"Oh my god Britt," you squeal, not because you're completely grossed out, but because you've never wondered what Rachel tasted like, but now you do.
"Oh yeah. That's one of those inappropriate things that Santana says I need to stop talking about to other people," Brittany adds, "Anyway, you tell her or you don't. She likes hugging me and San and her dads are totally gay so I don't think that she'd stop."
"But you and Santana aren't in love with her," you sigh. Your door handle jiggling makes you start to panic so you add, "Please don't tell anyone B. I gotta go."
Rachel opens your door with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a couple presents in her other arm. Behind her you can see that your apartment is empty.
"How did you get everyone to leave?" you ask, trying to avoid looking at her legs that are exposed under a short silky nightgown.
She grins and drops a present on your lap, "That's not important." She moves to the TV and frowns, "You don't have a DVD player."
"I didn't even know I had a TV until a couple hours ago," you focus on the present in your lap, wondering what's in it.
She leaves your room and returns with some more presents, "It's like Chanukah." She hops onto the bed next to you and takes a sip from the champagne bottle. After flipping through the channels for a minute, she stops it on a black and white movie that's already halfway over.
You both drink champagne and open presents until you've opened every toaster oven and candle set in Manhattan. She takes a long drink of the champagne and hands it back to you. When you take a drink, you can taste her lip-gloss on the glass rim. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop yourself.
Rachel looks up at you with a quirked eyebrow, pausing her examination of a gift card you both received. "Are you okay?"
You fall back onto the bed and pull the covers over your head, "I'm super drunk."
"We've just been drinking champagne lightweight," she teases you and pokes you in the stomach through the blanket.
Being drunk around Rachel is a dangerous thing as you've learned so you keep the blanket around your neck and try to make yourself sleepy.
She lays down next to you and you can feel her looking at you. "Quinn Fabray."
You open your eyes and find that her face is inches from yours. There's a sweet smile on her lips and that guilty feeling consumes you. "Hmm?" you prompt wanting her to get it over with so you can close your eyes again.
"You're a lightweight," she giggles and shimmies under the covers next to you. You're eyes flutter shut when her hand seeks out yours in the mess of blankets, "I'm taking you to breakfast in the morning. Mimosas and bagels. Your official induction into the world of Manhattanites."
You can't help, but smile.
The next day, you hang out with Rachel. She drags you all around the island and into Brooklyn and back before the day is done. When you get back your whole apartment is completely cleaned and back to the way it was when you first moved in. The mess of people that work for Rachel still freak you out a little.
Rachel sent you to bed early because you had five interviews the next day. That's probably a good thing because you wake up at five because of nerves. You manage to occupy yourself with doing your hair for an hour and then panicking over what to wear. Even though you had one sale already you still feel like this is your first job interview ever.
But by lunchtime you feel pretty good about them. You met some of your competition and you used the one great thing that Sue Sylvester taught you. Raw intimidation.
You're so glad to be home that you drop your purse on the ground by the door and fall onto the couch. You wonder where Rachel is so you call her. She answers happily and tells you that she's on her way to an interview with a reporter from a small independent Broadway review magazine. She says she'll be home in an hour and then you two can go to lunch or something. You tell her not to rush and remind her that you're proud of her. She sounds a little choked up at the sentiment, but thanks you multiple times for reminding her of that.
You make another quick call and survey the ingredients in the kitchen with the phone to your ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey Jake," you smile, "I was wondering if you had any totally awesome vegan recipes to go along with all your grocery shopping skills."
He laughs, "Sure. Are you at your apartment?"
"Yeah," you answer, leaning back on the counter, "I was about to call over my friend because she's kinda lonely and I want to cook her and Rachel an awesome lunch that Santana can't tell is vegan, but Rachel can actually eat."
"Well I will be there in ten minutes and we can brainstorm," he assures you, "See ya."
"Yeah," you nod and hang up the phone.
When you call Santana, she quickly agrees to come over and eat lunch with you. She seems desperate to get out of her apartment and you can't say you blame her. You've been home alone for a grand total of fifteen minutes and you're already calling over every person you know within a hundred mile radius.
Jake arrives about the same time that Santana does. He's carrying a bottle of wine and she's carrying a heavy looking backpack and donning scrubs.
"Are you playing pretend today?" you ask her with a playful smile.
She rolls her eyes, "No. My pathology class is taking a field trip this afternoon and this is required attire." She hops up on the counter to watch you and Jake cook while she's looking at her book and practicing some sort of surgical skill in the air. She mumbles something about cadavers before you politely ask her to not discuss anything medical before, during, or immediately after lunch.
Once the cellophane noodles are rolled out, you start chopping vegetables while Jake prepares the tofu. You watch over his shoulder so you can do this next time without any help.
You offer Santana a slice of carrot and she takes it, "Thanks for talking to Britt last night. I didn't know she felt like that."
"No problem," you tentatively smile at her.
"Brittany belongs to you?" Jake looks over his shoulder at Santana, "I mean like-she's with you?"
She looks up from her book and nods, "Yeah."
"I met her last night," he smiles and turns back to the stove, "She's really nice."
"Uh, thanks?" Santana looks to you with raised eyebrows. You shrug. You don't know Jake well enough to know if he is into Brittany or anything. You hope not. For his sake.
She lowers her voice so that you're the only one that can hear her, "Of course I made the mistake of telling her that as soon as I get out of med school that she doesn't actually have to do anything."
"Oh San," you sigh, "You should know better."
"I know, I know," she huffs, "I'm an idiot."
You push some of your hair out of her eyes and shake your head, "You're not stupid. You're just still…you."
"What does that supposed to mean?" she rolls her eyes, but you know there's no bite to her bark anymore…at least not toward you.
"You still talk before you think," you hand her another carrot and she takes it.
"Whatever," she looks down at the book in her lap and reads a little before asking, "How'd the interviews go?"
"They went well. Most of them said they'd let me know by Wednesday," you grin, "Coach Sylvester would have been proud."
"Are you kidding?" Santana chuckles, "She's hella proud of you anyway. Brittany's sister says that she's still talking about the Unholy Trinity."
"We're legends," you laugh. You look over at Jake and find him mixing some kind of sauce. You walk over to him, "Oh, what's that?"
"Peanut sauce. Staple of Asian vegan cooking," he explains with a gentle smile, "Rachel loves it." He hands you a spoon to taste it with. It's spicier than you expect, but still amazing. You have got to learn how to make that.
After about half an hour the front door opens. Rachel immediately announces her arrival by calling, "Honey I'm home!"
You don't answer because she's already making her way to the kitchen. You're elated to see her until you see that she brought someone with her.
"Hey guys," Rachel bounces into the kitchen and peers over your shoulder, "That looks amazing. What are you making?" She hugs you from behind before moving over to refrigerator to get some water.
"Tofu spring rolls," Jake answers for you because a green-eyed monster has crawled its way up your spine and into your brain rendering you speechless.
David walks up to Santana and says hi. He asks her how school is going and seems genuinely interested when she tells him about the surgery she watched last week.
You sigh. He is a nice guy. Even if he's mean to the help (which you haven't actually seen), he's handsome and he's charming and you want nothing more than to hit him over the head with the frying pan.
Rachel moves to his side and he rests his arm around her shoulder and quickly kisses her.
"So Quinn, he directs his attention to you and focus really hard on rolling the spring rolls so you don't want to hit him for just kissing her, "I heard you sold Rachel's old apartment and your stay in New York is about to become permanent."
"Hopefully," you force a smile when you feel Rachel looking at you.
"We should go out tonight to celebrate," he suggested, "After the show, we could go do something fun."
You hate him more for being so nice, which of course makes no sense, but you don't care. He just kissed Rachel right in front of you and you want to maim him in his pretty face. Since Rachel is standing right there, watching you, your reply isn't out of your HBIC Retorts by Cheerio Captain Quinn Fabray. You shrug with an apologetic smile, "Rain check? I've had a long day already and was kinda hoping to mope around here until I hear from the agencies I interviewed with."
"Of course," he nods. He seems a little put off, but you don't care. You actually want him to say something mean to you so you have a reason to hit him.
Rachel moves from his side and appears at yours. Her soft hand is on the small of your back and her eyes look worried. She quietly asks, "Are you okay?"
Her concern elicits a genuine smile and you nod, "I'm really just tired. I woke up at five this morning because I was nervous."
"You can go lay down now," she offers, "I'll finish lunch."
You shake your head, "No, I need to get used to this vegan thing."
"You're a natural," Jake jokes from across the kitchen where he presents some perfectly rolled spring rolls.
You look down at yours. They're not as good as his, but it doesn't look like a ball of mush, which you consider a great accomplishment.
Once you're all seated at the dining room table, lunch goes by easily. David and Santana pretty much keep everyone entertained with stories of work or school and you try not to look at David directly because if he met your eyes, you may launch yourself across the table and beat him with a spring roll. You absolutely hate being the crazy, irrational, jealous person, but when he touches Rachel you want to cry or hit something…someone…well mostly just him.
After lunch, Santana had to bolt to get to her class, Rachel and David had a cast meeting to get to and David still had to run Rachel's errands so you're left alone. When everyone is gone, you change into sweat pants and a t-shirt before parking yourself in front of the living room TV. Halfway through the first episode of the medical drama of your choice, your phone buzzes.
You look at your phone and find that Rachel sent you a text. How about I pick up some sorbet on the way home from the show? I can grab some movies if you want. Low-key roomie bonding night?
How could you say no to that? You text back that that sounds awesome before laying down on the couch letting yourself get lost in the show, wondering if Santana's hair will look that good when she's in the operating room someday.
You spend the next two days in your pajamas watching daytime television and obsessively checking your phone. Today is the day when you know. Adding to your stress level today, you just received your divorce papers. They're still sitting in a manila envelope on the kitchen counter because you can't concentrate on what it says when you're waiting to know if you have a job or not.
Halfway through your daily dose of General Hospital, your phone rings.
When Rachel gets home, you peer at her from over the back of the couch. She sees your eyes and you playfully duck back down. She sets a paper bag down in the kitchen before jumping over the back of the couch and landing as softly on top of you as possible.
She sits on her knees next to you and ruffles your hair, "You're in a good mood."
"So are you," you comment. Her face is blissfully free of any makeup because she's meticulous about getting rid of all the stage makeup after every show.
"I got a five minute standing ovation," she grins and leans back on the opposite end of the couch from you, "Why are you happy?"
"I got two job offers today," you can't stop a face splitting smile.
"Oh my god!" she launches herself on you again and hugs you so hard you my not be able to breathe soon. "This calls for something way better than sorbet!" She jumps off of the couch and returns with a very expensive looking bottle of champagne with a sold silver base and absolutely no English words on it. In her other hand she's carrying two champagne flutes.
"So you're too good to drink out of the bottle now?" you giggle as she struggles to uncork it. Once she's got it, she pours you both a generous amount.
"This is real celebrating," she smiles at you, but there's something sad behind it. You can't quite put your finger on it. "This means you can go get the rest of your things from Lima and make that bedroom really yours."
You slowly nod. You forgot about going to get the rest of your things from Lima. "I'll go on Thursday and drive back this weekend. I may have to leave Friday because Santana wants to come with me."
Rachel frowns, "I want to come too, but I have shows."
"I thought that's why you have an und-"
"Don't you ever say the 'U' word around me," she smirks, "That's like putting a hex on me."
You laugh because Rachel's adorable and you love her and the fact that she doesn't want anyone saying understudy around her. She laughs with you and leans into you. You put your arm around her like you usually do and she taps her flute to yours. "You're an amazing person Quinn Fabray."
"So you are Rachel Berry," you giggle with her before sipping the very expensive champagne that tastes like heaven in your mouth.
The next morning, you pick up your keys to make a run to Queens to pick up the paperwork to complete the sale of her apartment. "I'll be back later."
"Wait!" she yells and runs to you. She snatched the keys out of your hand. You feel a dull pain where the teeth of the keys scratched your palm, but you're more focused on her outburst at the moment.
"You can't take a cab," she says firmly, "Or a car or an automobile of any kind."
"Why not?" You're pretty much perplexed at this moment.
Her head tilts down slightly and you don't quite catch what she says.
"Huh?"
"Because I had a dream…about snakes…" She mumbled barely audibly. She glances up and sees your thoroughly confused face and goes on, "Every time I have a dream about snakes someone I know gets in a car accident. Last time my last assistant wrapped her car around a pole in Brooklyn. She's okay now, but that's not the point…"
A smile forms on your face and you want to hug her. She pouts and tucks your keys into her pocket. "I'm serious Quinn! It's true." This only causes you to smile wider and chuckle lightly with your hand over your mouth.
"You're making fun of me," she accuses you and stomps her foot. When you burst out laughing, she turns on her heel to storm off. You grab her arm and stop her overly dramatic exit. The combination of your pull on her arm and the momentum of her turning back around cause her to tumble into your body. She doesn't make a move to leave. In fact she leans against you so you do what come naturally and put your arms around her. You've never been one for physical affection before her and it doesn't surprise you when her arms snake around her waist. Suddenly you decide that if this is what you've been missing out on, you would have started hugging people more often a long time ago.
You wonder what she's thinking as you stand in this simple embrace. After a few minutes of silence you add, "I believe you, but I don't know the subway around here well enough to get to Queens without getting lost, mugged, and/or kidnapped."
She laughs against your shoulder and steps away, "I'll go with you."
"You don't have to," You tell her, although you're simply thrilled at the offer, "You have the day off and a late show tonight."
"Nonsense," she waves her hand at you again and starts to her bedroom, "Everyone needs a guide during their first foray into the subway. I'll just go change and we can get going."
It turns out that her going with you only sped up the selling process because monotone real estate agent is apparently a huge Broadway junkie and knows almost more than you do about Rachel.
On the way back, a creepy guy kept looking at you and Rachel. You slide your arms around Rachel's shoulders protectively. She doesn't seem to notice the guy, but she wraps her arms around your middle and smiles up at you.
When you look back up at the guy, he's smiling to himself and gets off at the next stop.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you ascend the stairs into fresh air. It's a text from Santana.
Please save me from myself Q. I'm about to cut my median cubital"Santana said she needs to get away from her books before she studies herself to death. Do you mind if we meet her for lunch?"
She glances up at you and you notice little subtleties about her face that mean she doesn't mean the shrug that she lets out.
"You don't have to come," you add, trying to give her an out, "I'm sure you want to take a nap or something."
"I do want to," she explains slowly and evenly, watching her own footsteps on the sidewalk, "I still have a tiny amount of anxiety around Santana because of high school. I know it's unfounded now and that I've hung out with her, but there were always more than one person with us."
"She's totally-well not totally different, but she's mellowed out. Four years by herself in California gave her a lot of time to think," You pause and contemplate your best friend's changes and smile because you're proud of her. "Pardon the cliché, but she found herself there. She realized what she needed and what she wanted and found they were the same person."
"That's so sweet," she loops her arm through yours.
You pretend to gag, but you think it's sweet too. "I would have held out longer if I was Britt before giving Santana another chance. She might have gotten a couple more diamonds and could have gotten Santana to really grovel."
She pokes your ribs, "There's got to be a romantic in there somewhere Fabray."
You laugh and shake your head, "Nope. Not in here."
You text Santana back, that you'll meet her and tell her not to take a cab…just in case.
When you get there, Santana is already at the table, staring off into space. She looks more tired than she was the last time you saw her.
"God San, do you ever sleep?" is what you greet her with. You give her an affectionate rub of the shoulder, which is about the most you two are comfortable with in public.
"No, never," she shakes her head, dead serious, "I'm not sacrificing my Brittany time for sleep. Or my study time. Sleep is completely overrated anyway."
"You're going to die," You glance at Rachel to make sure she managed to sit down okay. Not that she's had any trouble before. It's just that…overprotective much?
"No," Santana rationally explains, "I'll just start hallucinating and lose all essential motor skills. No biggie."
"So I'm going to Lima at the end for the week," you add, "Wanna come?"
"Want to? No," she answers, "Have to? Definitely." After she yawns, she asks, "Can we leave Friday after my last class?"
"Sure," you nod, "I have to drive back though."
"That's fine. It'll give us an excuse to leave early," she adds, "I love my mom, but I can only take so much of 'Oh mija you look so pretty in white' or 'Brittany has amazing genes'. And telling her that marriage and children are not on the table right now, does not actually work. It's like she only hears what she wants."
"Parents do that," Rachel agrees, "My dads have been hinting that both of those thing."
You internally cringe. The reality that Rachel is going to get married and have kids with someone other than you, hurts worse than anything. You take a long drink of your water when Santana asks, "Why not? I mean your man candy seems like a good guy."
She shrugs with a weak smile, "We've only been dating for six months. We're both very career driven so if we find that we are compatible in…that way, it's going to take something huge in one or both of our careers to take any kind of huge step like that." She lets out a small sigh and looks out the window.
"So Santana, exactly why haven't you asked Brittany to marry you yet?" you ask with a wicked smile.
"Because," she immediately got defensive, "Marriage is…scary. And we're kind of just…getting used to being together again."
"It's been a year," you state. You know that Santana has always, always, always…always had commitment issues. However, you figure that because she's stayed with Brittany for this long, marriage wouldn't seem so hard.
"It's just…scary as shit okay?" Santana snapped, "She's pissed at me half the time. What happens when she gets trapped in that? What if I make her miserable?" She softens and drops her head on the table.
Rachel looks at you with wide eyes. You just let out a soft smile and lean forward. "San." When she looks up at you, you let out a smile, "You don't make her miserable. Sometimes you irritate her and sometimes she irritates you, but she loves you. She always has and I was there when you met Brittany. You can't tell me that you didn't love her the second you saw her for the first time."
"Just drop it okay?" Santana looks you dead in the eyes. She wasn't angry. She was scared. She turns to Rachel, "Control your roommate okay?"
You and Rachel both laugh. You're sure she's laughing at the joke, but you're laughing because if Rachel did try to get you to do something, you'd most likely end up doing it. You'd follow her off of a cliff.
"Quinn," she smiles at you with a faux authoritative tone. "Behave."
"Yes ma'am," you smirk.
After a while Santana tells you that she has to go study so you and Rachel head back to the apartment. You're excited because now this is your permanent residence. Your two weeks aren't even halfway over and you have a job and friends and a new life.