"Rachel!" you call from the front door of your apartment. Rachel and her stylist have been locked in her room for over two hours. "Brittany and Santana are going to be here in two minutes and our limo is here."
"I'm ready!" she calls, walking out of her bedroom hopping out on one foot, pulling her heel on her other foot.
"Holy crap," you breathe. All the red carpet and paparazzi photos in the world never made her look as amazing as she does right now.
She smiles widely at you and opened the door for the stylist, "thank you Paulo."
The stylist simply nods and walks out.
You start to walk out of the apartment but she closes the door in front of you. "Rachel, we need to go," you state, one of your hands on your hips, the other hanging your clutch over the ground.
She smiles mischievously and sets her own clutch down on the entry table next to you, "you said we have two minutes."
"More like one now," you turn to open the door but her hands on your hips stop your movement.
You turn to ask her what's going on when your back is forced onto the door and her lips smash into yours. "I can't kiss you for the next couple hours so I'm going to kiss you now."
"Oh okay," you like the way she thinks.
You feel her hands creep up your stomach and trace the underside of your right breast. You sharply inhale and lull your head back against the door, "No fair."
You love that you can feel her smile against your neck. She plants a few safe but less than innocent kisses on your neck, as to not make any visible marks. You squirm against the door. Your make out sessions have been slowly escalating. Every night up to today you've taken each other out on dates bringing your grand total of six if you count the lunch she took you to yesterday. They always end the same way. You're both breathing hard when she pulls away. You've been very respectful of her not going any farther than she wants but you feel empty when she leaves you hanging. She's always the one who initiates and she's always the one that terminates. You used to be scared of sex with her but now you know you've never wanted to feel anyone else's skin on your skin more in your whole life. She's pretty forward about what she wants and when you do something she likes her sighs and moan are your reward. You're pretty sure you could get off on kisses from her alone but you wouldn't oppose anything she might want to try.
You feel a familiar pressure build in your stomach so you pull back a little bit. "We need to go."
She pulls away from you so you can step away from the door. You notice her lip gloss a little smudged along her top lip so you carefully wipe away the stray gloss with your finger and add it to yours. Luckily you're wearing the same color.
She grins and smacks you in the rear with her clutch. "I wish we didn't have to share our limo."
You giggle, "If we had our own limo, it'd be obvious what we were doing the whole way there."
You meet Brittany and Santana downstairs at the limo. They both look the picture of perfection as they easily slide. You gesture for Rachel to get in first. She smiles at you and gets in. You follow her and the driver closes the door.
"You two look awesome," Brittany grins.
"Thanks," Rachel smiles back, "You both look very awesome as well."
Santana looks around the mini bar and pulls out a tiny bottle of something. She unscrews the cap and downs it like a shot. She shakes her head, "Okay. All ready." She turns to you and Rachel, "Your crazy publicist emailed up with instructions."
Rachel nods, "I got one as well."
You frown. You didn't get one. Rachel notices your frown, taps a few things on her phone and hands it to you. Its very detailed instructions for each of you. You see yours. It's basically the same things as yesterday. Don't talk to reporters and be coy. Stay with Brittany's friend or the entourage. No PDA with Rachel. There are a few other instructions like smile as much as possible and talk to other people that aren't with Rachel.
"I swear to god if that woman does not learn that just because I'm not all fuckin' famous and a resident on Broadway means I don't have a name, I will strangle her," Santana crosses her arms. She adds a few choice curse words in Spanish that you understand, but don't translate for a lost looking Rachel.
Brittany pushes some of her hair, which is in a loose up-do, out of her face and places a calming hand on Santana's arm, "When I meet with her in Saturday, I'll tell her that you're Santana and you're my fiancée and you're the most important person in the world 'kay?" She rests her chin on Santana's shoulder and you can see Santana immediately soften.
You look over at Rachel who is smiling at them. After a moment she looks at you and rests her head on your shoulder. "Thanks for coming with me Quinn."
"I'm more than happy to be your non-date," you kiss the top of her head and put your arm around her.
"I'm contractually obligated to show up to some sort of after party, sponsored by some electronic company or something," she mentions, "But you don't have to go if you want. Or if you want we can go to a couple other ones."
"I have to one sponsored by a shoe," Brittany pipes up.
"We'll drop you two off at your party and then when the limo drops us off we'll send it back," Rachel states, "We can take a cab home Unless Quinn doesn't want to stay." She turns to you looking for you answer.
"I'll stay," you offer.
She smiles, "Good. I promise it's not like the VMA awards after parties with half naked woman dancing on tables or bottle of Hennessey and whatnot being passes around," Rachel frowns in disapproval, but brightens up. "This one is a sit down dinner at a very upscale restaurant. You remember the list right?"
You nod. You remember the list. She looks at you like she wants you to recite it so you do, "Katie Finneran, Angela Lansbury, Patti Lupone, Liza Minelli, and Barbra Streisand."
"If you see any of them," she says with the most serious look on her face, "I don't care what I'm doing. Tell me. Even if I'm already talking to one of them. I have modeled my career after them. Every single one of them has won a Tony Award and if I'm going to win next year, I have to talk to them. It's imperative."
You nod. You have your mission for the night. Look pretty in the background and locate these Tony Award winning women.
When you pull up to the limo line, you look out the window. The mass of people outside is astounding. There are cameras everywhere.
"Hey check it," Santana looks out the window, "There's that place with the awesome cannoli and ice cream thing."
"You wanna go there afterwards?" Brittany asks.
"If someone's doing one of those monologue things and me seat is empty," Santana smirks, "That's where I'll be."
You glance over at Rachel who is looking out the window wide eyed. You keep forgetting this is her first time here. Brittany is super calm and Santana is already acting bored. Rachel's trying to be calm, but you know she's really excited. For you it's neither here nor there.
"Well," Rachel watches the gate for the red carpet show up outside the window and looks to Brittany and Santana, "You two are out first."
When the door opens, Brittany doesn't hesitate to step out. Santana easily follows her and they walk to the staging area, hand in hand.
You look over Rachel's face and know that she's absolutely beside herself. "Rach," you wait until she looks at you, "Deep breath okay?"
She takes a deep breath and nods. "I'm ready."
You smile and smooth out a stray piece of hair, "You got this. You've been practicing for this since I've known you."
She nods again and puts on a smile before stepping out of the limo. You see her hand twitch to help you out, but it's immediately pressed to her side. You smile at the action. She gets points for almost helping you anyway.
You both pause outside the gate. She flashes her smile to a man who seems to know who she is and lets you both in. Brittany and Santana are already on the other side, schmoozing. They're both talking to a friendly looking reporter and laughing.
When you turn to look back at Rachel, you find that you're already flanked by some well-dressed strangers. Rachel looks around herself and quirks an eyebrow, "I suppose this is my entourage."
"Ms. Berry," a man in a muted gray suit with messy brown hair smiles at her, "I'm going to be your personal assistant for the night."
"You're the reporter blocker?" Rachel asks bluntly.
The man laughs, "Yes. I'm Michael."
"This is Quinn," Rachel introduces you and he smiles a charming smile at you.
"Right this way," Michel extends his arm toward the line of reporters lining the carpet. She glances at you with a face-splitting smile before following Michel to her first interview.
You watch her and have never been more proud in your life. You notice her entourage move so you move with them, staying close to them, but keeping a subtle eye on Rachel. Santana has broken off from Brittany and is now at your side as you two slowly move long the far side of the red carpet while Brittany and Rachel jump from reporter to reporter.
You turn to one of the girls in the entourage. She looks about your age so you introduce yourself. Her name is Alison and she goes to NYU. She's doing this to pay for her books. She and Santana get started talking about the ridiculous price of books and then start bantering about which school is better. Santana keeps telling her that NYU is for yuppies while Alison says that Columbia is for people who couldn't get into NYU.
Their conversation is interrupted when Brittany calls Santana over for a picture. Your friend has no problem strutting over to Brittany and having her picture taking for a million different angles. You see a bit of high school Santana in her, but are proud of her for not worrying that she's getting her picture taken with her fiancée.
You look to Rachel and find her looking back at you as she's ushered to another reporter. She scrunches up her face in disapproval. You know it's about the fact that you're being kept apart by a publicist and her well-dressed minions. You just give her an understanding smile and a playful wink. That brings a smile to her face as her attention is turned.
Santana returns to your side with a sigh, "Well I'm bored."
"We just got here," you smirk. You can tell she's just putting up a front. Santana likes getting her picture taken and the more pictures circulate with them together, her engagement ring on her hand, the more people know that Brittany belongs to her.
"Yeah, those canollis are looking better and better by the minute," she looks around, "How long do you think it would take me to run over there if you held my shoes?"
The whole way down the red carpet you skillfully dodge the few reporters who seem to know or think they know who you are. You and Santana make a game out of seeing people on the red carpet. You point out someone and she tries to find someone who was in a film or TV show with them then you have to pick a different person who was in a movie with the person she picked. You stick with TV and movies because neither one of you is a Broadway aficionado.
As you're playing you spot someone that you vaguely remember. It takes you a minute, but you remember her from the flash cards Rachel made you. She's from the list of women Rachel wants to meet. You look from Katie Finneran to Rachel and back. She looks like she's a couple minutes from walking into the theatre so you throw caution to the wind and walk up to Rachel. She immediately turns and smiles at you. Michael frowns and tries to get between you. But before he can do that, you gently take Rachel's arm and pull her closer whispering in her ear, "Katie Finneran is behind me."
Rachel looks over your shoulder and her eyes glaze over when she sees her. Rachel mumbles out an 'excuse me' to the reporter before b-lining over to the woman. You move back to the entourage and Santana while watching Rachel 'accidentally' bump into one of her idols. She walks up next to her, says a few words the man with Katie before turning to Katie looking completely surprised. She's good at this.
"You're supposed to stay with the group," Michael tells you, looking less and less handsome with his condescending tone.
"You're supposed to stay with Rachel," you resist calling him an asshat. The last thing Rachel needs if for her speculative date to be cause on camera calling a man an asshat on the red carpet at the Tony's.
He grunts and walks off in her direction. You roll your eyes and Santana just smirks at you. "Check you out with the self-control Q. I would have punched him."
You nod, "I know you would have and we'd be on our way to the NYPD jail to bail your out." You bump shoulders with her, "Okay so I saw Scarlett Johansson who was in Vicky Christina Barcelona with Penelope Cruz."
"Crap," Santana looks around, "Have you see the Iron Man dude anywhere?"
"He has a name," Alison adds, clearly amused by you and Santana.
"Yeah well we're too busy at Columbia, curing diseases and saving lives to watch movies like students at NYU," Santana smirks and glances over your shoulder, "Bam. Eric Bana."
"No way. What were they in together?" you turn around and squint. You're not even sure that's Eric Bana.
"The Other Boleyn Girl," Alison answers for Santana and then smiles playfully at Santana, "You know just in case you're too busy at Columbia for history as well."
"That movie was so not historically accurate," Santana bites back a smile, "I guess you would know that if NYU didn't teach their history classes through Twentieth Century Fox."
You're sure that they can go on like this for hours so you just tune them out and look around. You can scratch one name off of your list. Now where are the others?
Arms sliding around your waist from the side distract you from your search. Although Brittany hugs are a nice distraction from anything. She hug her back, "How are the interviews going?"
She shrugs, "They're okay I guess. I think I'm done though. They keep asking the same questions. They ask about the show and how long we've been working…." She grins smugly, "And my super hot fiancée." You glance at your friend and see that her eyes are soaking up her super hot fiancée. You swear you see her lick her lips before she lets go of you.
Santana turns away from Alison with she hears Brittany mention her. Santana makes the introductions and Brittany slides up next to Santana, her hand dangerously low on Santana's back. You let out a small sigh and look around for Rachel. You want her to touch you like that. You want her to show someone that you're hers with a possessive hand placement. You just want to talk to her.
"Quinn!" someone behind you calls. You turn around and see a reporter waving at you. She wave at him, but shake your head with a shy smile. You turn back around to Brittany and Santana to find that she and Alison are arguing again. Brittany disengages from Santana and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you.
"I know you're like bummed," Brittany quietly says, holding you harder against her body, "But one of the cool things about dating girls is that we can say we're going to the bathroom together and it's not weird." She pulls away and grins at you, "You know, just sayin'."
You take her hint and giggle a bit. You pull her into another hug and tell her, "I love you Britt."
"I love you too," she rubs your back.
"Hey," Santana slinks up next to you, "No stealing my fiancée. Especially not in front of me and especially not without a fight."
Brittany pulls Santana into the hug too and you find yourself with your head sandwiched between your two best friends' heads. You stay like that for a while before a man clearing his throat behind you breaks you apart. You look up to find Michael. "Ms. Berry has asked me to inform you that she's inside the theatre, in the nearest restroom to the entrance and she thinks that her…" he mumbles something you can't quite hear."
He puts his hands behind his back and scans behind you before he uncomfortably chokes out, "She's having an upper undergarment problem."
"Really?" Santana eyes him, "You can't say bra? Brassiere? Boulder holders?"
Michael is turning every shade of red you can think of. You grin at your friend who winks at you. Santana is good at revenge even if its minor like this. Hopefully he'll think before speaking condescendingly to someone again.
Brittany takes Santana's hand as they say goodbye to Alison and the rest of the entourage at the door of the theatre. You walk in behind them, immediately searching for the bathroom. Brittany sees someone that she knows so she and Santana go talk while you enter the bathroom. There's surprisingly no one in the bathroom considering it's a women's restroom. "Rach?"
"Oh thank god," Rachel opens one of the stalls and peeks out the door. "I texted you like six times."
You look down at your clutch and open it, finding that she has in fact texted you six times. The first few are sweet. You look beautiful and I wish you were doing this interview with me. The last couple are a little more urgent. Can you tell if my bra is broken? to I think the hook came undone, to the very urgent, I'm having a major bra problem. Meet me in the restroom by the door please.
"Sorry," you answer and step toward her, "Did you figure out what's wrong?"
"Yeah the hook keeps coming undone," she answers pulling you into the stall and locking the door behind you. She looks down at her dress, "Look." She pulls the front of her dress down and shows you the unhooked bra, "What am I going to do Quinn? What if I have to fix it and someone takes a picture of me?"
You bite your lip and try to shove your mind away from the fact that she's almost flashing you. You scratch your arm and try to find a solution. "Um…do you have any safety pins?"
She shakes her head, her eyes worried and desperate. You look down at your own dress and then back at hers. "I guess we could…trade." You're suddenly wishing you had worn a different dress. One with straps or some kind of built in thing or something. But she's the star and she's the one people will be taking pictures of.
"A-are you sure?" she asks, "I'm sure I could just-"
"No, it's fine," you try to smile to reassure her, "If it bugs me too much I'll just duck in here and take it off."
She smiles at you and surprises you with a kiss. It's short, but sweet and it leaves you beaming. "I'm sort of loving this whole dating a girl thing." She mentions.
You chuckle and reach around behind you to unhook your strapless bra, "You might like it a little less when I tell you that I need to borrow those shoes. They're so cute."
She wriggles out of her bra without exposing herself to you. You manage to do the same and you two switch. "I think that just makes it that much better," Rachel answers, pulling the bra up a little and readjusting.
You're trying to figure out how you're going to use this bra without the straps before finally giving up. It won't work. You're going to have to go braless. Luckily this dress is snug to begin with it's not really that big of a deal. You just hope that no one can see through it if a camera flashes at you. You mention this to Rachel.
"Oh," she digs in her clutch, "I'll take a picture of you and see." She pulls out her phone. She looks at the phone and points it to you, "Say cheese."
"Really?" you quirk your eyebrow.
"C'mon," she lowers the phone, "I'm not taking the picture unless you smile."
At that, you can't help, but smile. She takes the picture and the flash goes off. She looks at the screen for a moment before sighing, "Well damn."
"You can see through it?" you ask, moving to her side to look at the picture.
"No I can't," she bites her lip trying to hide a smile.
You smack her with your clutch, "Perv."
She giggles and tucks her phone back into her clutch, "Don't want the paparazzi to get a hold of that one. You're holding my bra and standing in front of a toilet."
You roll your eyes and shove the bra into your clutch, "You're impossible."
In one swift move she pins you to the stall wall with a searing kiss. Your hands automatically go to her waist, sliding around to her back pulling you hard against you. Just as your hands are about to slip down the curve of her ass, you hear the door squeak open. You both pull away trying to control your heavy breathing. Luckily the stall door is only barely above the ground so no one can tell that there's two of you in there.
You listen as two pairs of heels quickly shuffle to the stall farthest from the door and the door closes and locks. Your eyes widen as the sound of sloppy kisses and gently sighs can be hear. You look at Rachel who has the same look of terror on her face.
"You look so fuckin' sexy right now," a female voice growls.
Your panic dissipates at the voice and you find that Rachel is smiling. You call out, "Can you two keep it in your pants for one night?"
"Quinn?" Brittany's voice asks.
"And Rachel," Santana huffs, "Seriously Q? You ruin everything. Get out."
"Hey," Rachel calls back with a laugh, "We were here first. Find your own bathroom."
You giggle. You know that this has effectively ruined all of your sexual moods so you all slowly exit, readjusting items of clothing as you primp in the mirror.
"One for the road?" Rachel asks and puckers her lips.
You steal an innocent kiss before following her out the door. You turn behind you as the door swings shut to see Brittany and Santana rush back into one of the stalls.
You and Rachel take your seats. You're not sure where Brittany and Santana are supposed to sit, but you hope that it's close to you. Rachel is scheduled to sing in the middle of the awards and she's going to leave a few minutes after it starts. So you'll be sitting here by yourself, next to this guy that you've seen before but have no idea where you've seen him and a couple seats down from David, you've notices.
"I wish you didn't have to go," you whisper and pout.
She gives you a sweet smile and you can tell she's trying not to kiss you in the smallest way, "You can some sing with me."
"I don't think they would like that very much," you offer with a grin and a small shake of your head.
"I don't care," She rests her head on your shoulder and you rest yours on the top of her head.
"Kathy would be blowing a gasket if she could see us right now," you tell her quietly.
Rachel repeats her previous statement. Her head suddenly perks up and she looks at you, "Wanna go home?"
You look confused at her, "I though you've been dreaming of this your whole life."
"Oh yeah," she sighs and sinks back into her seat. She retrieves her phone from her clutch and taps out a quick message. You find yourself intrigued when your clutch buzzes in your lap. You dig out your phone and find a text from Rachel. When you read it your heart screeches to a stop. But you look so hot and I know you're not wearing a bra, which makes it worse. It's not fair!
You look over at her. She has the most mischievous smile on her face you've ever seen. You don't know what to say to that. Luckily you don't have to. She stands from her seat, "I need to go backstage and warm up."
You give her your best pout although if she offered to stay, you wouldn't let her. She just smiles down at you with an adoring smile that gets your heart back to cruising speed and beyond. She kisses one of her fingers and presses it to your lips before walking off.
You cautiously look around. You're pretty sure that no one just saw that although you're sure that some friends do that and it could easily be explained. When no one is staring at you, you sink back into your seat. You look at your phone. You have plenty of entertainment on there to keep you busy and entertained until this thing starts.
You scan through your phone for something to do. You open your pictures and start to go through them. You realize that you have a bunch of pictures of Rachel. You smile at each candid picture that you have of her. Most of them are from your dates. Some of them are from your apartment when she's doing something. She insisted that you take a picture of her making dinner one night. It turned out horribly, but she was proud that at least one of the side dishes turned out okay.
A text interrupts your memories. You open a picture message of Rachel backstage posing with Patti Lupone. You smile and check that one off of the list.
The lights dim and you put your phone away. The first thirty minutes is fun. The host is funny and the music is great. Rachel absolutely kills her song and you couldn't be more proud of her. A few minutes after her song, she appears next to you and sits in her seat.
You watch the awards together. Her head rests on your shoulder. It's dark, but you don't actually care anymore if anyone sees you. She's so amazing and you just want to touch her. Your hands are intertwined between you. When you see a camera near you, she picks up her head, but when the cameras are gone she scoots closer to you.
She claps appropriately and you're proud of her for being supportive of other artists even though she wasn't nominated. You're sure that they're nearing the end because you don't know how many awards that they could possibly give. Cameras near you so you both sit up. You feel your phone vibrate so you let go of her hand to dig it out of your purse. Kurt's calling you. You silence it and put it back. You can call him back later. You're surprised that he isn't watching this.
Rachel perks up as the cameras rest on her. You sit up as well because you know you're on camera as well, being next to her. You turn your attention to the host who at best for you tonight has been a Charlie Brown adult. But you feel the cameras on you so you feel that you need to pay attention.
"And lastly we have the Tony's newest special award. Newcomer of the Year. This award is new to this year and is introduced to recognize the rising stars of Broadway. The winner of this year's Tony Award for newcomer of the year is an actress that had shown incredible talent on stage and an incredible work ethic off of the stage," he pauses, pulling the card out of the envelope, "This year's newcomer of the year, Rachel Berry."
You're shock, but you turn to Rachel who is way more shocked than you are. She looks at you and you smile to let her know that it's real. She did just win a Tony Award. You stand and pull her up with you. Everyone is looking at her and she needs to get up on stage. You don't expect her to throw her arms around you, but when she does you smile and hug her back. After a moment, you pull away and turn her around directing her in her daze toward the stage.
It's a long walk, but she makes it and hugs the host before taking her award. She steps up to the podium and million watt smile on her face.
"Oh my gosh I don't have anything written," she squints into the lights of the stage and takes a deep breath, "I guess I'll just start thanking people. Um, my dads for fostering a love of music and art in me and for supporting me no matter what. Walter our producer and Freddie our director. My whole cast and crew are amazing. Kathy and Paulo. Um, my friends that are here with me tonight. Brittany Pierce for challenging me with her choreography in high school and making me a better dancing today. Santana Lopez for" She laughs, "…testing me reflexes in high school and both of them together for showing me that true love never dies." She pauses and closes her eyes to remember before opening them again, "The rest of my show choir class at McKinley High. The original New Directions: Kurt, Mercedes, Mike, Tina, Matt, Sam, Finn, Noah, Lauren, and Artie. Um Will Schuester for encouraging me to follow my dreams. This is truly truly a dream," her eyes squint out over the audience but she finds you through the light, "And thank you so, so much Quinn. For reminding me what passion is. Being my confidante and my best friend. I love you," she smiles back over the crowd, "I love you all. Special thanks to the people who come from all over to Broadway; I hope you're all as inspired, as I was when I first came here. Thank you." with one last gracious nod, she's lead off of the stage.
You're in shock. You're not sure that she really meant that 'I love you' or if it was even directed at you, but you're on cloud nine at the mere thought. She thanked you on nationally broadcast television.
Your phone vibrates again and you pull it out thinking it might be Rachel. Instead it's a text from Santana. It simply reads. You are soooo getting laid tonight.