Thank you for reading. To the person that requested for things to not move too fast; fret not. :)

Totally fine.

Totally normal to kiss friends.

Rite of passage. Like the cigarette. Nothing to be unduly concerned about. Part of the rich tapestry of life.

Rachel leans her head on the car window, and watches street lights flick past. Brody's humming the tune that they closed the door to, as he drives, bouncing his head along.

'You have awesome friends, by the way. I know I always end up saying this, but I'd not spoken to Sam and Artie much before, they're real good people. And Jesse, I know you think he's a bit of an asshole but I only saw the likeable side tonight.'

Rachel nods in agreement, and thinks about Quinn. It's a reasonable link. Brody was just talking about Rachel's friends. Quinn is her friend.

Rachel doesn't even think of anything in particular about Quinn, as they drive home, just has her face and shape and smile and movements, occupying all the space in her head that she usually uses for rational thought.

When they get to her bedroom Rachel pretty much just pounces on Brody.

'Whoa, hello; what's gotten into you, I… jesus, Rachel at least let me get my shoes off before you ravish me, you… have you been smoking?'

Guilty.

'Yes. One. I was curious. It was foul. Kiss me please.'

Brody eyes her for a moment, and then lifts off his shirt, before picking her up and placing her on the bed.

'Well, I'm not sure how I feel about kissing someone who tastes of smoke, surely I have the power of veto, or at least the power of mouthwash, huh?'

He's teasing her, she knows, but Rachel's suddenly full of a lot of unspecific anger, and pulls Brody down on top of her, kissing him hard and shifting a hand between their bodies to cup his crotch.

Brody pushes himself upward, away from her, and Rachel has to fight not to actually snap at him.

'Hey, are you okay? Because I know alcohol makes you horny but… this isn't normal.'

Acting. She's an actress. 'I'm fine, okay? It is so weird for me to want sex after a party?'

Brody winces at her, and then tips himself sideways.

'Well, no, but another time, huh babe? I'm tired, you're dads are like two doors away, and you know that all the Streisand posters creep me out.'

Rachel makes herself roll into his side, makes herself mumble sure thing into his lips, makes herself smile like everything is fine (everything is fine), before standing on sore feet to head for the bathroom.

It's on her way back into bed that she spots that Quinn's jacket is on the floor. But at that point there is nothing she can do, except turn off the light.

Quinn isn't due to travel back to Yale for another three days.

Her sister is in town, you see. And so appropriately sister-y activities have to be completed, and reported back to their mother, so their mother can feel like the family unit still exists in one form or another.

She doesn't mind really. Quinn feels less of a failure, these days (Yale has brought her so much breathing space, on that front), and it was never Fran's fault, particularly, that she was the standard to which Quinn was held.

Quinn's working on not holding it against her. She's working on a lot of things, these days.

Fran is still blonde, but it's a darker blond now, the color Quinn's hair will go if she lets it grow out. And she's still slightly prettier, with a slightly smaller ass.

She didn't go to Yale though.

'So, how was the party? I didn't hear you get back last night; must have been a late one.'

Quinn cups her hands around her coffee mug, and blows softly to ward away non-existent steam.

'Fun. I had fun. Some of those people I hadn't seen in over a year, and it'd been ages since we were all in the same room. Did some dancing, you know. Party stuff.'

Fran frowns at her suddenly, and asks suspiciously 'Was Puck there?'

Jesus. One mistake. Quinn rolls her eyes, to a laugh from Fran.

'All of the club were there. San, Brit, Mike, Artie, Puck, Kurt and Mercedes, Tina, Finn, Rachel… you know. The set. And a bunch of people I didn't know. And I didn't sleep with Puckerman, thanks for your concern.'

Fran laughs again, and holds up her hands.

'Whoa, okay, sorry little L. Forgive me, he's just a name I remember, can't imagine why. So, all the people from your little loser club.'

It's said with a smile, and Quinn fights to take it in the spirit it was intended. 'Yes; I guess, when I remembered how much of a loser I was, it made it easier to not think of it as loser club. We were losers together.'

Fran pushes her half-finished cookie towards her, and Quinn takes it with a nod of gratitude. Fran watches her as she takes a bite, and then looks around for their waitress, speaking distractedly.

'Even the Rachel girl? The one who was your sworn enemy for a while, as I recall? Still good friends with her?'

Okay, she really doesn't need to talk about Rachel right now. Quinn pretends her mouth is too full, and just nods in response. That's all it needs. They are still friends. Why wouldn't they be?

Fran smiles at her as Quinn struggles into her coat (the one that isn't now forever associated with Rachel), and throws an arm over her shoulder.

'Come on then, salon next. So I can have the usual, and you can talk ten minutes of big talk about a radical haircut, before having the usual.'

Quinn will allow her that one, she supposes. Siblings are supposed to be annoying.

A day later, and Rachel finds herself alone in her room. Free time is hard to come by when she visits home with Brody, but Dad is out shopping, while Brody and Daddy are watching something incomprehensible about football. And she knows her Daddy also hasn't the faintest clue what is happening either, but is playing along manfully, because Brody seems very excited.

Rachel uses this free time to eye the blazer. Quinn's blazer, that she managed to pick up from the floor yesterday morning, but hasn't made any further progress from the chair that she flung it on, as if it was the blazer that was the real problem here.

It really isn't.

She can hardly pretend that she hasn't noticed. It isn't as though Quinn could have failed to spot that Rachel wandered off with her jacket, in the midst of a small scale panic attack that she was trying desperately to hide.

And even if she didn't notice in the moment of Rachel's leaving, Quinn must have noticed when she decided to leave.

Ignoring this isn't an option.

Having eliminated that possibility, Rachel tries to map out what should be done, toying with her cell, flipping it from one palm to another.

So. If friend A accidentally walked off with friend B's property, it would be logical to assume that friend B would expect contact from friend A at some point, to apologize with a smile and suggest when friend A and B could meet up to restore friend B's property to friend B's hands.

Rachel takes a deep mental breath.

However, if friend A ignored the theft situation, friend B would assume that either friend A was a thief (not ideal), or assume that friend A was somehow perceiving some kind of awkwardness in the initiated contact. And, it would logically follow that friend B would reassess the evening of the theft, to identify whether there were any unusual occurrences…

And so, radio silence will make Quinn believe that Rachel feels awkward about the fact that they kissed. Which she one hundred per cent doesn't. Because that would imply that it meant something.

Which it didn't.

The part Rachel remembers the most vividly is that she had no idea what to do with the hand furthest away from Quinn. She remembers how it had ended up gripping the corner of the wall beneath her so tightly there had been marks left on her palm afterwards. Which had been silly, because nothing was going to happen. She didn't need to hang on.

She does, however, need to message Quinn. For reasons that she has just been through, and will not be going through again. Common decency requires it.

With determination, Rachel opens her message function.

A determined fifteen minutes, Rachel has composed a message which reads; Hi!

Another five minutes after that, her phone chimes so abruptly that she yelps and promptly drops it.

It's Santana.

It takes nearly two days to clean up Brit's house

Not that it was particularly crazy, or messy, or whatever, it's just that Brit's parents aren't due back in town for another couple of days, and Santana keeps getting distracted from her clean up duties by Brittany's everything.

And sure, they haven't seen each other for a while. Of course they're going to capitalize. Even if they're surrounded by discarded cups and bottles, on that first morning.

One day, Santana is gradually realizing, she'll have to grow up. And then she probably can't eat people out on the floor. Or at least not make a habit of it.

Brittany hugs her from behind, on her way out to buy some more air freshener, and then randomly reaches up to squeeze at one of Santana's breasts through her tank top, which is so incongruous with the bowl full of suds and glassware which Santana is currently dealing with that it makes her snort with laughter.

Brittany kisses her on the cheek.

'See you in a bit, housewife. Don't forget you said you were ringing Rachel about the travel share thing, okay, because otherwise I'll be stuck with you forever and that would be hellish, clearly. I'd get nothing done.'

Santana rolls her eyes, and then air kisses back.

'Later B.'

After Brittany's gone, Santana waves the dishcloth at the pots for a bit, and then sits at the kitchen table.

Okay, so technically, this is a bit awkward, because it is a favor that she's asking for here. But the truth is that Santana is on an economy drive, right now, because New York is expensive and she's trying, at least, to not rely on her parents forever. But she figures that she must have done Rachel hundreds of favors in the past, and also it is hardly that much of an inconvenience.

'Hello?'

Santana hold the phone away for a second and frowns at it, because Rachel sounds really weird and startled, but remembers that she's with Brody and therefore probably in the middle of doing something heterosexual that she doesn't want to know about.

'Hi Bezzer, not interrupting anything am I?'

Rachel launches into what sounds like the beginnings of a paragraph of blah, so Santana moves to shut that down.

'Okay, yeah, so, listen in. There's an airline deal for the day we wanted to travel. If we change our tickets to fly at the shitty side of sunrise and group book, there's about a forty dollar discount. Would you guys be up for it? I'll do the bookings and the hassle, if you're in.'

Rachel's quiet for a moment, and then asks 'How many do you need to count as a group?'

Santana pinches at the bridge of her nose, and frowns at the info in front of her.

'Well, if it was you and the boy, me and Kurt, and if we drag Quinn along too, then we'll make the numbers. And so, it isn't Quinn's usual arrival airport, but I am going to demand that she stays the night, so we can maybe take her out and show her how dancing and meeting people can be fun.'

Again, with the buffering. Santana looks out of the window while Rachel processes this, but she's not worried, because Rachel knows about the money situation and isn't likely to be unhelpful. It's Kurt she's more concerned about honestly, because that man is the opposite of a morning person.

'What kind of club do you think we'll go to?'

What? So not the point, here. 'Not sure yet, one of the usual's I guess. So is that cool with you guys? Do you need to speak to Brody?'

Rachel hums to herself for a second, and then says, 'ahh, yes, I'll need to check, I'll message you, okay?'

Santana nods, and then taps her pen on the table decisively. 'Awesome, okay, I'll check with Quinn next. See you…'

She's a fraction of a second away from ending the call when she hears Rachel again.

'Santana, wait!'

'What?'

'Could you… um, when you speak to Quinn could you tell her I've got her blazer, but I'll give it to her when I next see her?'

Santana scrunches up her face in confusion. 'Since when am I your PA Rachel? Sure, whatever. Blazer. Anything else you want me to pass on? Or are we done?'

'No, that's it. We're done.' And then Rachel's gone.

Seriously. Whatever she just interrupted, Santana hopes Rachel doesn't stick like that, because she can't deal with weird Rachel on a day to day basis.

Quinn says yes, that's fine, in fact it'll be fun, she's sure they'll all just fall asleep on the plane, and of course she'd love to stay with Santana, so she can check Santana has stopped living in squalor, but instead has discovered the powers of bleach.

Santana swears at her a few times in an amused tone, and then hangs up to ring Kurt. Quinn returns her cell to the bedside table, and tries to re-focus on her course text.

This is a terrible position to read in, lying on a bed while holding the book above her head, at eye level, but she started this chapter in this position and she's damn well going to finish it.

Her arms ache, reminding her that she isn't head Cheerio any more, but she grits her teeth and pushes forward.

Santana said that Rachel 'had said something about your blazer, she'll give it to you when she sees you, okay?'

Why Rachel hadn't chosen to tell her this herself is beyond Quinn.

Or…

Rachel can't be mad with her, can she?

It was just a… silly thing. Caught up in the moment. And Rachel had been equally guilty of instigating it, Quinn's sure.

Rachel had been the one to open her mouth first. Not that it matters, but it does, because Rachel's fingers had squeezed hers at that point, and Quinn had trembled, she remembers.

In fact, the more that she thinks about it, Quinn did nothing wrong at all, asides from kiss a friend who looked at her with eyes that had screamed 'kiss me now'.

Cheerio camp had contained kissing, in the past. Of girls. Not many, but Quinn was nothing if not thorough in exploring her options, as she came to the realization that all boys of her age were woefully immature. And Santana and Brittany made the whole thing okay, somehow. As if, look, everyone does it, even the pretty girls.

So, she is aware of the look. Quinn received it often enough, particularly when out with Santana in one of her 'open-minded' clubs. And sure, she hadn't acted on it in a good while, but that didn't mean that it was unsolicited affection, what she gave to Rachel at the party.

Affection. She does like Rachel. Quinn's kissed people in the past that she has harboured extreme distaste for. This borders on being one of the most honest kisses Quinn's ever participated in.

Quinn frowns at the book, realizing that she's been staring at the one sentence for the last five minutes, and tries to refocus.

Maybe she should apologize to Rachel anyway. She's loath to, because she doesn't think she needs to, but perhaps Rachel feels Quinn was out of order, what with the presence of Brody at the party. Maybe that's it. Maybe Rachel's angry that Quinn has made her feel guilty. Which she shouldn't. Mindless kissing should hardly count as kissing. Quinn knows now, that people kiss people that they shouldn't all the time. It doesn't matter.

A message something like… don't worry about the blazer, no rush. Hope you liked the party, sorry for being…

Sorry for…

Rachel had kissed her. They'd kissed. It had been pleasant. (Rachel had gasped into her mouth and shifted closer, in a way that made Quinn feel good, wanted.)

Nobody was hurt.

Quinn abruptly tosses the book to one side and sits up. She ignores the impulse to contact Rachel.

She's not sorry, she decides.

Kurt is going to murder Santana. Or at the very least pull her hair.

The human body isn't meant to be awake at this time. He feels as though he's dreaming, fighting through a wall of instinct screaming for a horizontal position.

And it doesn't help, in the slightest, that Brody is even more of a morning person than Rachel, and ruffles his hair with a laugh on his arrival at check in.

'Morning sleepy head. You look like shit Kurt, very poor effort.'

Kurt tries to muster a glare, and then scans the space for some kind of outlet that'll serve him caffeine. 'Brody, just because you and the wonder girl like to be up and singing with the lark, doesn't mean the rest of us do. Some of us would like to shoot the lark. Rachel, if you use this as an opportunity to sing I will not be held responsible for my actions. The 'no singing before nine' law still stands, despite us not being at the apartment.'

Rachel rolls her eyes at him, and then scans the departures board anxiously. Kurt summons all his efforts, and attempts basic math.

'Where are Quinn and Santana? We have to go through soon, no?'

Rachel just bites her lip in response. Brody looks down at her, apparently puzzled by her lack of words, and shrugs his shoulders.

'Restroom, I guess. They've been a while. Probably going through some kind of ex-cheerleader air safety routine.'

What the ever-loving fuck?

Santana frowns at Quinn, who is suddenly, and for no apparent reason, endlessly adjusting her hair in the mirror. The request made no sense. Santana glanced at her watch.

'Okay, Q, we actually need to start moving. They'll shut the gate. If Kurt isn't here I'll shred his wardrobe. And why the hell do I need to un-invite Rachel from our night out? Is this bathroom in 2010?'

Quinn glares at her in the mirror, and holy shit, maybe she did step into time machine. 'Santana, I am not playing this with you right now. I don't feel much like dancing and whatever-ing, and Rachel is always full of endless enthusiasm on these nights out. I haven't got the energy.'

Santana throws her hands up in the air. 'Okay, so we don't go out. We'll do a girls movie night instead, invite Berry, make her watch films that make her cry, that's always entertaining.'

Quinn breathes out very steadily, and then turns to face Santana, speaking slowly. 'We will talk about this when we get to yours, okay? Just, don't mention it again until we've spoken, and maybe I'll feel less of an old woman later.'

Santana snorts despite herself. 'Well you said it, Q…'

Quinn rolls her eyes, and pokes Santana in the midriff suddenly. 'Come on, you're making us late…'

This airline is one of the better ones, Brody decides, because the seats aren't hell to sit in and the flight attendants leave you alone, rather than endlessly trundling up and down.

Brody reaches for Rachel's hand, as the sun peeks up over the horizon. She's got the window seat, and has been watching the view since the flight took off. He leans close to her, nosing at her ear for a second.

'Hey. You okay?'

Rachel smiles at him after a moment, and she looks weary, somehow, in a way that makes Brody want to pull her into his arms and let her sleep. He kisses the corner of her eye instead.

'I'm fine. Just… bit worried about my classes this semester.'

He puts a hand behind her neck, massages for a moment.

'You'll be fine. You've come this far, huh? Nothing stops you.'

He's rewarded with a kiss, and a squeeze of his hand.

'Thanks for coming with me, I know it bit into your rehearsal time.'

'Shush, I had fun, you know I did.'

Rachel kisses him again, smiles once, and turns back to the view. The sun's a fraction higher now, and the color of the sky is changing rapidly. It looks kind of amazing actually. Brody looks around to see if anyone else is noticing this, twisting in his seat and craning upwards to look over his head rest.

Santana had commandeered the window seat on boarding the plane, but is currently dead to the world with her mouth wide open. Kurt is wearing an eye mask, but Brody can tell by the set of his mouth that he isn't asleep, but rather staging some kind of ironic protest about the fact that he isn't asleep.

In the middle of them, Quinn sits, currently in the process of highlighting some photocopied sheets. She looks up, startled, when Brody's head appears, and he grins awkwardly.

He really doesn't know Quinn that well, and nearly all of what he knows is third person knowledge garnered from Rach, or Kurt and Santana. Brody has already decided that half of it is nonsense, because no-one could be that schizophrenic without being in the care system, and besides, Rachel's always so happy when they have a chance to catch up.

Brody flounders slightly when his grin doesn't get returned, but instead Quinn just blinks at him, before raising her eyebrows in query. Shit, maybe she was super focused or something. Brody gestures vaguely out of the window, at the sunrise. Quinn leans past Santana to look for half a second, and then nods at him, with a slightly puzzled look.

Oh well. Sunrises clearly aren't for everyone. Brody rounds the whole interaction off with a thumbs up, however as he drops back into his seat he's uncertain whether that made things better or worse.

At the other end, their bags seem to take forever.

Honestly, this is the bit of regular cross state travel that she resents the most. Rachel doesn't mind the time taken in the journey, it's a half day worth of upheaval only, hardly impossible. But it isn't as if the airport can have been taken by surprise at their arrival, their plane didn't stop on a whim. And all she really wants to do is get back to her own space and have a bit of processing time, but instead she's been staring at the portal from which her luggage is due to appear for what feels like a month.

Kurt yawns loudly next to her.

'Well. At least the airport staff are getting some sleep.'

Santana glares up at him from her sitting position on the polished floor, and readjusts her legs.

'Look people, we can either moan about this, or accept that we are in the lap of the gods on this one. Take a hint from Q, Kurt. Be zen.'

Rachel is unsure how Quinn's decision to stare resolutely at her notes for the entirety of their wait here counts as following Buddhist philosophy. Rachel sort of wants to copy the position she's adopted though, sat with her back to the wall, legs stretched out in front of her. Quinn's wearing a big sweatshirt as well, and just looks as if she could wait all day for her bags, so long as her pen doesn't run out.

Rachel can't go and sit next to her though, for reasons. She sighs, and shifts her weight to the other foot.

Brody holds his hands up abruptly, then points at the carousel. A second later it hums into life, and Rachel lets out a weary 'yay'. Santana levers herself upwards.

'Okay Brod, I know you saw them press the button. You aren't that good.'

Their plane was only at half capacity, so once the luggage starts flowing their bags appear quickly enough. Hers and Brody's appear together, and Rachel watches him as he picks up both, before settling hers at her feet.

At some point she has to speak to Quinn, in order to hand back the blazer. She can hardly just throw it at her, and then run away.

Kurt strides ahead, once his bag is collected, off to claim a taxi for him and Rachel. Brody will travel with them, Santana and Quinn going separately to Santana's place.

When the cold air of the morning hits Rachel in the face, she's run out of time.

'Umm, oh! Quinn, before I forget, here, I… um, your blazer, I'm sorry about…stealing it.'

Quinn catches her eye, as she takes it, but Rachel can't maintain looking at her for more than half a second, and so misses Quinn's face as she answers.

'Oh, sure, thanks. I'd almost forgotten.'

Oh god, she hates how awkward this is, what the hell had she been thinking? What kind of moron kisses their friends?

Santana grabs at her for a hug, seemingly unconscious of what is happening. Maybe it is all in Rachel's head. Maybe they're fine.

Rachel realizes that the hug is to disguise a message, as Quinn says goodbye to Kurt.

'Hey, Quinn's reverted back to weird robot Quinn, but we're still doing something tonight okay? Keep an eye on your cell Berry.'

Their cab smells of air freshener, something slightly too sweet and slightly too invasive. New York is just waking, Rachel figures they're fractionally ahead of the main morning rush. It's good to watch people on the street, imagine back-stories for them.

Brody squeezes at her knee absent-mindedly, Rachel sends a silent request up for this mess to be fixable, at least.

She'll worry about the how later.