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Everyone in New York is hot.

Like. Everyone.

Ashleigh really enjoys nights like this.

Nights out with Quinn are always pretty good fun, because Ashleigh likes watching how many people stare at Quinn, and fall in love with whatever they think she is. And then Ashleigh gets to throw an arm around Quinn, and maybe kiss her on the cheek, before death glaring whoever is perving over her friend.

And they automatically walk away thinking that Ashleigh is sleeping with the hottest girl at Yale.

(Which Ashleigh knows is insanely shallow, but whatever. It was either that or develop a complex at how literally every eye would look at Quinn.)

But anyway, nights like this, where Ashleigh doesn't have a fucking clue where they're going, and most people here are people she's never going to see again, are extra awesome because Quinn's role in their friendship is to be the designated driver of Ashleigh's life.

So Ashleigh gets to party hard, as long as she doesn't lose Quinn.

She's doing shots, she realizes. With someone attractive called Michael. And the Brody boy. The one that all the fuss is about.

These are two very handsome individuals. And so, Brody is taken, by Quinn's soup girl, but as far as Ashleigh can figure, it's open season on Michael.

Ashleigh would quite like to get to know Michael. Because a) he's hot, and b) he's not the dickhead in New Haven.

'So. Michael. Are you gay?'

Brody laughs big at her, because yes, she is hilarious, and then punches Michael on the arm. 'I have warned you about those shoes, man!'

Michael just winks at her, and motions at the bar more shots.

'Straight. Just well groomed.'

Ashleigh raises her empty shot glass at him, in a toast, and tips it for the final drop. Success.

…

Santana tuts at Quinn, like it is her fault.

'Okay Quinn, just saying, your girl is making moves on the boy that Kurt has earmarked as his future husband.'

What? Quinn looks up, trying to see through the gloom. Her first instinct is to look at Rachel, but she's chatting to people she doesn't recognize. Eventually her gaze settles on Ashleigh, and she rolls her eyes.

'Ashleigh is not my girl, San. You invited her, remember? And also, I think Kurt's future husband is pretty straight.'

Santana leans heavily into her, and once again Quinn realizes that she's the sober one. She'd like, just one time, to be able to use the excuse of alcohol herself. She shifts slightly on the bar stool that she's been perched on for what feels like forever, and runs a hand though her hair, sighing.

Santana plants a foot on either side on Quinn's, and in another language this counts as straddling.

'Umm. San? What are you doing?'

Santana drapes an arm over each of Quinn's shoulders, and leans into her. Too close. 'Want to make her jealous? I'm here for you, okay?'

Quinn laughs after a second, and places a hand over Santana's mouth.

'Oh, that's why you invited Ash. We're not together, San. At all. Though I appreciate your dedication to and obsession with getting me laid. Truly. You're a wonderful friend.'

After a second, Santana rolls her eyes, and shifts away from her.

'Okay, although you could do worse. And have done worse. Just sayin'.'

Looking over at Rachel suddenly seems to be as automatic as blinking. When Quinn does, she could swear that Rachel looks away from her at that moment.

'Worse than who, exactly? You, or Ashleigh?'

Santana shrugs, and takes a big drink from her bottle. 'Either. You know how I feel about this. You are too attractive to not be getting some Quinn, if we ignore your tedious personality for a second. Seriously, how long has it been? I'm worried you're going to seal up.'

Quinn rises, suddenly not okay with this conversation.

'I'm going to the restroom. And you're disgusting when you're drunk, for the record.'

…

Quinn doesn't need to be in here, but locks the cubical anyway, and leans on the door.

She's freaking out. As if Rachel will know. As if it's painted big in her eyes.

Rachel hadn't really looked at her at all. Not after the first minute, when she'd reached for Quinn like she'd be drowning, and Quinn was an unexpected life line. But something in the linked hands had frozen the moment, crystalized it, until Quinn had looked away, frowning at herself for being so stupid.

They'd managed a minute of small talk, aided and abetted by Ashleigh, until Rachel had looked down at her feet, and murmured something about circulating. She'd left Quinn alone with a tonic water for the next hour and a half, with only Santana and various other overly friendly strangers seemingly taking it as a personal affront that Quinn wasn't having a brilliant night.

Fuck, she is so bad at parties. She can't drink properly, because when she's like this the alcohol just makes her into this crazy angry drunk, who'd no doubt end up shouting at Rachel for having the audacity to be attractive.

She'd go, if she was being honest, but even if she could get Santana's keys off her without too much fuss, Ashleigh was clearly gearing up for a big one, and Quinn isn't sure how comfortable she feels about Ash and Santana being in charge of each other.

Quinn sighs, and presses at the bridge of her nose for a moment, before attempting to pull herself together.

She's fine.

It'll be fine.

'Quinn? … I know you're in here, I saw you come in?'

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Easing the catch back, Quinn tries to look like she hasn't just been caught hiding. She even moves to wash her hands, to continue the pretence.

'Hey. You having a good night?'

Rachel looks at the floor for a moment, and then stands at the basin next to Quinn, checking her reflection. She's wearing a little black sweater dress, and looks like two thirds of her body is leg. Quinn doesn't really know what to do with that visual, or that thought, and so makes like she's also concerned with her reflection.

Rachel sighs after a moment. 'Brody's happy so many people came. He doesn't see as much of his friends as he'd like to, these days.'

Quinn ignores that Rachel's answer doesn't really address her question, and makes herself smile.

'Have you gotten over the shock, yet?'

Rachel purses her lips for a moment, and then rests her hands on the edge of the basin.

'I think…I was just really looking forward to a night with him. We haven't had much time together since… since the job, and everything.'

Quinn is not sure what to say that, and so hums vaguely in agreement. Rachel catches her eye in the mirror for a second, and Quinn fights the urge to bite her lip. Rachel smiles, shyly.

'I'm glad you're here though. You're a good part of this.'

It's unfair, really, the way that her breath seems to catch, just by looking at Rachel. Rachel stares at her for a second too long, in the reflection, and this is feeling inevitably familiar now.

Quinn has to get out. They've exchanged about three and a half sentences and she's already picturing pushing Rachel up against a wall.

There's a thump against the door, and then Ashleigh staggers in.

'Woo…quinnquinn! We're off, yeah? Different bar, one with a dance floor, Michael's invited me. And everyone else. But mainly me. Brody and Mrs Brody are going, so… oh hey Rachel! You're supposed to be out there, come on, let's go…'

…

Kurt isn't having a tip top time.

It is fine, of course. Clearly, Michael wasn't the one. Clearly, Michael has a thing for overly friendly big busted brunettes with ill-advised facial piercings.

This club is louder, and darker, than the previous place. And one in three songs are ones Kurt would actually dance to, so things aren't that atrocious.

Santana bumps into him on the dancefloor, and then manages to turn that move into a full body grind. Kurt swerves away after a second.

'Whoa, okay there. Down, lady.'

Santana drapes two arms over his shoulders.

'I miss Brittany. And, sex. Think someone in here will have sex with me?'

Okaaay, really drunk Santana. 'I think nearly everyone in here will have sex with you, but that doesn't mean it is advisable. Shall we go get you some water? Before you hump someone unsuspecting?'

He finds a seat, and manages to shunt Santana into it, before passing her a bottle of water.

'Drink. I need you slightly more sober so I can yell at you about this Ashleigh girl you've invited.'

Santana nods aimlessly, and necks half the bottle. 'Sorry Kurt, I though her and Quinn were secret lovers. Turns out not, boo. Dammit, I thought I'd figured it out.'

'What out?'

'Who Quinn's sleeping with.'

Kurt blinks, and tries to find Quinn in the dark for a moment.

'Aah, nobody. I don't think. Maybe she's not.'

Santana scrunches up her face. 'But she's hot. Why wouldn't she be sleeping with someone?'

Quinn's a mystery that Kurt's never really been able to figure out. He shrugs, and attempts to move the conversation on.

'Well, it isn't Ashleigh. Ashleigh's sleeping with Michael tonight, it would seem.'

Santana pouts at him, and then runs what Kurt thinks is supposed to be a sympathetic hand down his face. 'Yeah, sorry.'

Oh, whatever. Kurt's fine. He just needs another drink.

'Come on, let's go tell Rachel how smart we are again, I don't think she fully grasped it the first time.'

…

She's not hiding from Brody.

Rachel is aware that she's found herself a dark corner, and the lights that are projecting from the machine above her head mean that most people in here won't see her.

But she's hardly hiding. Brody's right there, she would be able to see if he suddenly got worried, and started looking around for her. And then she could go over to him, reassure him.

Besides, this is clearly devolving into a boy's night out. And so, even though the rest of them are still here, Brody's only got eyes for his friends, the ones that he hasn't seen in a good while. It makes total sense that he should be preoccupied with them. He sees Rachel nearly all the time.

He looks like he's having fun.

He's such a good dancer. It's silly, sometimes, Rachel forgets that he's legitimately talented too, on his own self- projected path to success.

She's proud of him. She's also… she isn't sure.

It's hard, being in a relationship where both people are fighting towards the same goals. Rachel knows that Brody hasn't even considered it a competition. But that's probably a luxury reserved for the person who's winning.

NYADA keep them on books, do a great deal of the touting of their talent for them. Rachel just has to turn up to the auditions. And she knows that rejections are par for the course, that Brody had hundreds.

But soon, she won't be with NYADA anymore. Soon, she's supposed to just do all of that herself.

Rachel knows that the really lucky ones get signed up with companies before they've even graduated. She just doesn't know why it hasn't happened to her.

The song switches, and the change in pace nudges her out of her thoughts, thankfully.

Kurt is weaving through the crowd, Santana in tow. The dance floor looks full, Rachel's glad she's not in the middle of it, because even with these heels, she feels small.

She wonders where Quinn is. Rachel can see Quinn's friend, draped all over Michael, which means that Quinn can't be far away.

Rachel really just wants to go home.

…

It really isn't Quinn's fault that she's two drinks drunker than she planned. But this entire evening feels like one long mistake, and if she is going to have to be up all night with these people, she's at least going to end some kind of barrier to numb the pain.

Ashleigh appears by her side, and loops an arm through Quinn's, and Quinn almost smiles at her, before remembering that somehow, this is Ashleigh's fault.

'Hey Q. Brody's friends are talking about going to someone's apartment for more, are we going? Michael's going. I think we should go.'

Quinn rubs a hand over her face.

'No, I don't want to. Where's Santana? I need sleep.'

Ashleigh pokes her in the cheek with a finger. 'Santana's coming. Come on, grump. They have weed.'

Quinn groans, and wags a finger in Ashleigh's face.

'Seriously, I really don't want to, okay? I'm going to get the keys from Santana, otherwise I'll just fall asleep in this apartment you're all going to.'

Ashleigh looks at her for a moment, and then slings an arm over Quinn's shoulder.

'How would you feel about sleeping at Kurt and Rachel's tonight? I mean, Michael's just sleeping on someone's floor tonight, I thought maybe I'd offer him a bed?'

Quinn's face twists. 'Santana's okay with you just dragging a man back to her place? I mean, that might be stretching her hospitality a bit.'

Ashleigh waves a hand. 'Yeah, and besides, Rachel's been making noises like she wants to bow out early too, but Brody clearly wants to keep partying. So you can go sleep, and Rachel can go home without having to bring the party crashing to a halt.'

Okay, that sounds like a terrible idea. Quinn blinks at her surroundings, and sees through the gloom Kurt heading over towards her, Rachel in tow, determined expression on his face. He stops a foot away from her and doesn't look at Ashleigh once.

'Fabray. We're heading back to ours, and Santana's just told me you are apparently in need of a bed. Coming?'

What, is this some kind of conspiracy that she's involved in now? Rachel eyes her helplessly, and shrugs slightly, as if to say this isn't the outcome I'd anticipated either.

Quinn cannot figure out how to get out of the proposed (terrible, terrible) plan, and so nods, after a second.

…

Rachel is angry. With almost everyone.

Quinn's… Ashleigh could have just called it a night when Quinn did. That way Quinn could be sleeping in the place she actually wants to sleep.

Kurt could have warned her about this, because Rachel would have been one hundred percent fine with Brody just going out with his friends. This entire elaborate scenario needn't have happened.

Brody could have… well, Rachel isn't sure what Brody could have done, but nevertheless, she reserves a right to be angry with him.

Santana could have not invited Quinn.

Or something. Rachel doesn't know what she wants altered about this scenario, but she doesn't want Quinn sleeping on their sofa. It makes her feel …unsettled. Because she knows that she has a double bed, and Quinn is probably expecting an invite to share.

Any sane person would offer to share. Especially because they've shared beds before. Particularly because her and Quinn are supposed to have settled and moved on from the… from Brittany's party.

Instead she's forced to be mute, for the entire cab ride back, because she isn't sure how to say anything normal. Thankfully, nobody seems pretty talkative, and after five minutes Kurt tips his head sideways to rest it upon Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel clutches at her bag like it is her final straw.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Quinn's profile. She doesn't need to look. Rachel knows what Quinn looks like.

…

Thankfully, at their apartment, Kurt throws her a lifeline.

'Shall I get my spare blankets out of the cupboard, Rachel? We could leave them out on the couch, just in case Brody shows up here in the early hours.'

Rachel nods mutely, and then realizes that she hasn't spoken since they left, and this is beginning to look a trifle odd.

'Good idea! He'll appreciate that, I'm sure. I'll tell him. Message him. Though he might not check his phone. But if he does. He'll know!'

Quinn bites her lip (since when did Quinn do that so frequently? Rachel feels like this is a sudden, new addition to everything that Quinn is), and pushes herself up off the couch, where she'd been perching, easing her shoes off.

'I'll sleep in here. Seriously. It's Brody's birthday night, I'm sure that he'll want… time with Rachel.'

Kurt laughs before Rachel has to even think about what to say in the face of that announcement.

'I'm not sure whether Brody's going want anything other than a horizontal surface, by the time he leaves, but whatever, I'll let you guys decide that. Here, Rachel, come and grab these…'

Rachel follows Kurt into his room, and wordlessly receives an armful of blankets. Kurt places a pillow on top, and looks at her for a moment.

'You okay there, Rach?'

Rachel nods, looking away. After a second Kurt sighs, and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it was a mistake. You can shout at me in the morning, okay? Now go be nice to Quinn, it isn't her fault.'

Kurt looks so concerned, that Rachel forces herself to smile.

'I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess. You sleep well, okay?' Rachel frees one of her hands, and reaches for Kurt in a side on hug, which Kurt accepts gratefully. He rests his chin on top of her head, and Rachel can smell his cologne, the same on he always wears on a night out.

'Remember Quinn will need clothes hon, okay, all her stuff is at Santana's.'

Rachel nods like she had already thought of that, but as Kurt shuts the door on her, she isn't sure how to go about offering. Quinn's standing aimlessly in their living space, next to the couch.

'I will sleep here, Rachel. It's enough that you're letting me invade your space, so I really don't think…'

Rachel just nods, too tired to figure out the rights and wrongs of what she should do, and dumps all the blankets on the couch.

'Sure. I'll just go get you some clothes. Hang on.'

…

Rachel changes in her room. Quinn changes in the bathroom.

Rachel could just go to sleep now. The door is shut. She's already said goodnight. She doesn't need to go and check that Quinn's got everything that she needs. Or offer her a hot chocolate. Or anything like that. Really. Completely unnecessary.

She knows exactly why she opens the door.

…

They end up watching the television, in the small hours of the morning. Rachel isn't even sure what is on, because she's not watching the screen.

She's watching Quinn.

Quinn's in her clothes. She's wearing the NYADA hoodie that Rachel had bought in her first year. It's slightly too small, because Rachel had accidentally shrunk it in the wash, and it means that Quinn's wrists are showing.

Thankfully, Rachel had some full length pyjama bottoms that she could give to Quinn, she's not sure how Quinn would react to being handed some of the tiny shorts Rachel prefers to wear in bed.

Rachel leans over, to put her mug on the coffee table in front of them, because there's no way she can pretend that the dregs aren't stone cold, by now.

Quinn glances at her, and from the blush on her cheeks, Rachel knows that the attention she's been paying to Quinn hasn't gone un-noticed. Rachel knows that any rational, normal person, would now, go to bed. If she lingers any longer it is going to become blatant.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing wants to come out, until she's just staring at Quinn, without even trying to hide it.

Quinn looks away from her, but raises the corner of the throw, that she's been using as a half blanket since Rachel placed the hot chocolate in front of her. Quinn raises the corner and just looks at her.

Rachel slides over, until the blanket has covered both of them. Rachel finds it's easier if she just moves quickly, doesn't think about everything. She rests an arm across Quinn's stomach, tucks herself into Quinn's side until her head is resting on Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn sighs slightly, and lifts her hand to touch fingers to the back of Rachel's hand. Rachel can feel her heartbeat, now.

She's so warm.

Rachel doesn't need to think. Just be here, with Quinn.

When Quinn rubs her fingers up Rachel's arm with more purpose, Rachel shivers, and then tips her head up, and presses her lips to the corner of Quinn's jaw. Quinn's fingers still, and withdraw, as if she is realizing what a horrible mistake this is, but Rachel kisses her again, moving down her neck until she finds the steady flicker of Quinn's pulse.

Quinn is motionless, as if nothing is happening, but when Rachel noses into her neck, and parts her lips, Quinn takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes.

Rachel knows she should stop.

When Rachel's touches her tongue to Quinn's skin for the first time, Quinn's fingers grapple for hers, and she breathes out, slow.

'Rachel.'

Rachel moves her hand, so they're palm to palm, and squeezes fingers tight. Quinn moves her head, so she can look at Rachel, except this tiny distance is useless for everything except kissing, so that's what she does.

She kisses Quinn. She's kissing Quinn.

God.

Quinn kisses her back, after a moment, pressing lips and squeezing at her hand until Rachel opens her mouth, to find oxygen, and then Quinn kisses her bottom lip, before running her tongue over it.

Rachel wants to… she wants. She settles for opening her mouth wider, touching her tongue to Quinn's, gingerly.

Quinn moans quietly.

Rachel leans back for a second, startled. For half a moment there's a danger that reality will remind her why this isn't supposed to be happening, but Quinn's looking at her with flushed cheeks and lidded eyes, and Rachel hasn't really got a chance.

This time, when she kisses her, Rachel moves, pushing the blanket to one side until she's kneeling above Quinn, touching a hesitant hand to Quinn's cheek. Quinn reaches up towards her, and suddenly wraps an arm around her waist, until Rachel realizes she could be sitting on Quinn, so why on earth isn't she?

She feels powerful, kneeling like this, a thigh on either side of Quinn's hips. Rachel shudders when Quinn's hands graze the back of her legs, and then over her hips, and she presses herself down, instinctively. She's the one who moans, this time, but it echoed half a second later by Quinn, who presses herself up towards Rachel, until Rachel's arms wrap up around Quinn's shoulders, pulling her ever closer.

Quinn's mouth is hot, and wet. Rachel slides her tongue inside, and the action seems to make Quinn rock up into her, squeeze at her hips.

She needs friction.

Quinn's hands slide up her back, underneath Rachel's top, and Rachel's gasping, suddenly desperate for Quinn hands on her, on her breasts.

She breaks the kiss, but doesn't retreat, just stays pressed close, resting her forehead on Quinn's. Quinn blinks at her after a second, and Rachel runs a hesitant hand over Quinn's shoulder.

'Sorry.'

Rachel doesn't really know what she's apologizing for, apart from future misdemeanours, but Quinn seems to understand, and nods, slightly.

Rachel looks at Quinn. And then shifts her hips forward, in a manner that can't be disguised as anything else.

Quinn bites her lip, and looks down at the non-existent space between them. When she looks back, her pupils are completely blown, and Rachel can't help but smile slightly, and kiss her gently.

She rocks again, and after a second feels Quinn try to press up into her. It can't be close to satisfactory for Quinn, but Rachel's pretty sure that this could get her off.

Quinn Fabray is going to make her come.

The thought makes her swear, and Quinn dips her head, licks a line up Rachel's neck. It makes Rachel swear again, and her hands go to the back of the couch, searching for extra leverage. She rocks her hips again, and again, until she feels Quinn's teeth on her neck, biting once and then sucking hard.

The noise she makes is obscene. Rachel reaches around for one of Quinn's hands, and presses it blindly to her breast, before dropping her head to her shoulder, hips moving faster.

Quinn is breathing hard in her ear, and pinches at Rachel's erect nipple in a manner that suggests she's a fraction of a second from losing all control. Rachel closes her eyes at the concept, at the idea of Quinn fucking her properly, here on the couch.

Quinn freezes.

It takes a second before Rachel realizes why, but then she hears it.

Keys. In the door. Fuck fuck fuck.

Rachel's legs nearly give out when she stands, but she makes it somehow. Throws the blanket over Quinn, who is already crashing sideways, searching for the pillow.

Rachel's just into her room when she hears Brody swearing softly, and mumbling something that sounds like an apology. She closes her door as quietly as possible, hoping that Quinn's answer will cover the noise.

Frantically, suddenly aware of how wet her sleep shorts are, of how easily Brody could figure out if he just touches her, Rachel dives under the covers, tries to calm her racing heart and convincingly feign sleep.

After five minutes (Quinn must have delayed him, somehow), Brody enters her room quietly.

'Rach?' It's a whisper, she can ignore it.

Brody moves carefully around the room, while Rachel fights to stay still. She can hear him removing clothes, tugging on a fresh t-shirt from the pile of his clothes that he keeps by her dresser.

He climbs into her bed, and rolls into her back, tucking his legs up so he is gently spooning her. He shifts a couple of times, snuffles once, and then goes still.

Rachel nearly bites through her lip in an effort not to cry.