Slightly shorter than some of the others, primarily because there isn't an appropriate break for another three thousand words or so, and it messes with the flow. Hope you enjoy reading, despite the brevity!

Kurt waits up. When it gets to ten thirty he goes to the fridge, and opens a bottle of white wine. He feels momentarily like a father must, on awaiting the return of an errant child, in which case beer would probably be more appropriate, but he can't stomach the stuff.

He's staring at the television screen, not actually taking anything in. Maybe he's misread things. Maybe there's a different 'B' Rachel is out with. Kurt wracks his brains, for the umpteenth time tonight, to try and remember if there is someone in Rachel's classes who has a name that begins with B, who could possibly merit an abbreviation in a note of the fridge.

Maybe there's a perfectly good explanation for Rachel hiding things from him and Brody. Maybe… Kurt's stumped.

When he hears keys in the door, he sits up really straight, and then slouches, and then rearranges his legs twice, because he cannot figure out for the life of him how to look normal.

Rachel looks a bit spooked when she walks in to find him sprawled half-way across the couch like a corpse, because he decided at the last moment to look as if he'd fallen asleep for some reason.

He waves a hand, and goes for bleary eyed, scratching at his head.

'Hey.'

'Oh, hi Kurt, oh my gosh did you mean to fall asleep on there, you must be tired?'

Kurt nods, inwardly cursing himself, because how is he supposed to leap seamlessly from nap-time to interrogation mode?

'Mmmph, long day… did you have a good night?'

Rachel nods, and then actually clasps her hands underneath her chin, and bounces slightly on her toes, in a move that is such a throwback to McKinley that Kurt actually feels his brain reel.

'Yes! Fantastic… I mean, yes. The food was lovely.'

Kurt raises both eyebrows.

'Brody well?'

Rachel nods absently, and then takes off her coat in a manner that suggests that this current conversation is over.

'It is bitter out though, really cold. Positively chilly.'

Kurt stands up, and follows Rachel to the kitchen area.

'So, where did you eat?'

Rachel blinks at him for a moment, and then opens the fridge.

'Oh! Somewhere we'd not been before. It was great! Uhh, excellent noodles.'

Kurt wants to be cross with her, or at the very least, a little frosty, but it is difficult when Rachel looks so happy it is as if she is struggling to maintain even the slightest connection with the floor, and a lapse in concentration could have her floating up towards the ceiling. He scratches at his chin, and then runs a glass of water from the tap, trying to steady himself.

'They must have been… so best night out in a long while?'

Rachel strokes a hand along the counter-top for a moment, and looks off into the distance.

'Mmm, best I can remember.'

He can't help a little dig, he feels like he's going crazy. Maybe she has been with Brody. Maybe he hallucinated the entire phone call; he had been exceptionally hungry.

'I'm so glad for you two, it does me good to see long term couples happy together. If incredibly jealous.'

Rachel looks down at her feet, in fact looks anywhere but him, and in that moment Kurt is certain.

'Oh shush, Kurt, it was only a meal out. I'm going to bed, okay? See you in the morning.'

Kurt tips his glass towards her in farewell, and waits for the door to click before sitting at the table.

Who on earth has been making Rachel that happy?

…

She doesn't sleep.

It's probably the adrenaline, or the stress of having to deceive Kurt, but Rachel is still wide awake at midnight, staring at the ceiling.

Her mouth seems to tingle, where Quinn kissed it.

She needs Brody. If she doesn't move in with him, there's no guarantee that Kurt is going to stay in New York, and how is she supposed to support herself alone in New York, while also auditioning for ever role that comes up?

It's the worst excuse she's come up with for a long time, and she rolls onto her side, annoyed with herself.

She doesn't want to hurt Brody. She likes Brody, enjoys being with Brody. These are the reasons. And all this is bound to hurt him, so really she should call the entire thing off.

Her and Quinn could never work, on a long term basis. Because Quinn would… or Rachel would… well, something was bound to go wrong.

Why the hell did she say yes when Brody asked her to move in? Surely that was the moment? Rachel feels like she's playing Jenga, getting higher and higher, constantly aware that she's about to kick the table.

Her phone lights up in the darkness, and Rachel reaches for it, anxious for a distraction.

I can't stop thinking about today.

Rachel nearly bites through her lip, aware of how much it probably cost Quinn to actually put words to thoughts.

And… Rachel can't stop thinking about Quinn. About having Quinn in her bed. On top of her… or underneath her, or anywhere really. It was only after a supreme mental effort that she had managed to drag her thoughts over to Brody, and guilt, in order to dampen her ardour.

It's back, however, with a vengeance, at the thought of Quinn, lying in bed three subway stops away from Rachel, unable to sleep.

I can't stop thinking about you.

Never let it be said that Rachel fails to communicate honestly. Rachel nearly regrets it, the second she presses send, but it is true. She's never been anything other than honest with Quinn.

She rolls onto her stomach, wide awake now, and cradles her phone in her hands.

She imagines Quinn kissing her neck. Quinn has done it once before, and Rachel burns with a desire to have it happen again, to know whether Quinn would use her teeth again, or be gentle and tease Rachel mercilessly.

Her phone illuminates again.

Yeah… that's what I wanted to say, too.

Rachel feels her breath catch, and she wants, so much.

Why can't everything be simple?

So don't. Stop, that is.

Rachel closes her eyes, and imagines Quinn thinking about her. Imagines what Quinn might be doing while she thinks about her.

God, she's turned on.

Quinn replies, after what seems like an age.

I'm not really trying to stop, if I'm honest.

Rachel blushes, hard, because even if Quinn isn't doing what Rachel is imagining, the message combined with the mental image is all a bit much. Rachel rolls onto her side, and slips a hand, lower.

Things are easier to say, after midnight.

Good. I'm not stopping, either.

She's wet, and this is going to be very quick.

Rachel… you can't just… oh god.

Rachel breathes Quinn's name up to the ceiling, a minute later.

…

Santana stretches in Brittany's bed, blinks a couple of times, and remembers where she is. She rolls into Brittany's side, who accommodates her after a second by lifting her arm, so Santana can tuck further into her.

She's warm here. And not needed by anyone. And not over-thinking everything.

She's happiest here.

'Brit, when are you going to move closer to me?'

Brittany shifts under her, and reaches a hand up to stroke at Santana's hair.

'Or, you could move closer to me? We could share a bed and sleep in shifts, like Charlie Chocolate Factory's parents did, so that my bed smells like you all the time. I sleep better, that way.'

Santana presses her face into Brittany's neck, and then kisses her collar bone.

'Isn't it time that your wiggle jiggle skills came to New York? There are people there in serious need of a good shaking, I'm telling you.'

Brittany hums at her, and kisses Santana's temple.

'End of this year, San. Boss Lady keeps talking about me doing big things. I'll tell her I want to do them in New York. Easy.'

Santana isn't sure that it counts as easy, but let's Brittany's confidence wash over her anyway. She closes her eyes again, and rearranges slightly.

'I'm jealous of Rachel and Brody, can you believe that? They'll get to wake up together all the time, can you imagine? I mean, not that I'd want to wake up with Brody's chin in my face, but you know what I'm saying.'

Santana feels Brittany tense underneath her slightly, and then Brittany coughs.

'Oh? Oh, yeah, I remember now, Rachel said something about… they're going to live together? In the same house? And Rachel said yes?'

Shifting herself upwards, Santana leans on her elbows, and looks down at Brittany.

'Yeah, it's kind of cute, and completely vomit worthy. They're staying out their leases, and then looking for somewhere together. I've already told Kurt that he and his entourage of scarfs will not be living with me for any longer than it takes for him to find a new place.'

Brittany looks away, and scratches at her nose.

'I… huh. I think I heard… I mean, I thought Rachel would say no. If she got asked.'

Santana watches Brittany for a second, and then squints at her.

'Where did you hear about it?'

Brittany blinks at her.

'Twitter.'

Santana snorts, and rolls away.

'Have you been speaking to Rachel as well as Quinn now? All this communication with pretty ladies; am I not good enough for you anymore?'

She's joking, and yelps when Brittany tickles her ribs.

'Branching out, you know? I'm not a one tree woman… does Quinn know?'

Santana shrugs, and presses backwards, so Brittany is spooning her.

'Who cares, she find out soon enough. God knows her and Rachel talk enough.'

Brittany rests her chin on Santana's shoulder after a moment, and then kisses her cheek. Santana can feel her breathe, slow and warm behind her.

'Yeah… I'm sure it'll come up.'

…

Quinn wakes with a start, and then stretches lazily. She hears the shower shudder into life, on the other side of the wall, and realizes it must have been the bathroom door which woke her.

She's feeling remarkably light. As though she has no worries or concerns at all. Which is ridiculous, because any person in their right mind would have many, but she ignores this and indulges herself, for a moment.

It's happiness, Quinn accepts, after examining the emotion for several seconds. She's happy.

Sitting up in Santana's bed, Quinn leans over towards the curtain, and nudges it to one side, casting her eyes up towards the sky. The bits that she can see look blue, and she smiles, without really meaning to.

She really shouldn't be enjoying this. Quinn can imagine Ashleigh's face, when she explains that she spent a day and a half in New York, primarily just to spend a couple of hours with Rachel. However, she doesn't really need a voice of reason, right now.

Quinn sits by the window, listening to the shower absent-mindedly. After a moment, she reaches for her phone, and scrolls through her past messages from Rachel, in an act of pure indulgence.

…

The coffee machine appears to know that what Rachel has been doing, and is refusing to co-operate with her. There's a red light that keeps blinking at her. Rachel thinks it is giving her a dirty look.

Brody bought this for them. As a 'thank you for letting me stay at your place so often' present, sometime after their two year anniversary. Kurt had been delighted.

Rachel sighs uneasily, and glances at Kurt's door.

She should really speak to him. He's always been her most constant friend, particularly during their first year in this place together. He'd help her process this, because he'd understand what is at stake.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and Rachel ignores the pulse her heart gives, and tries to reach for it calmly.

It's Brody.

Hi, struggling to get hold of you at the moment, are we still okay for today? I've been speaking to a leasing agent, there are three places lined up for us to look at this morning. She's going to meet us at the first place at eleven, I'll message you the address in a bit. Let me know you get this, okay? X

Shit. She'd forgotten all about Brody's grand plans for today. Rachel pokes at the coffee machine once more, her need for caffeine suddenly amplified, and frowns at her phone. The screen is now accusingly listing her missed calls over the last couple of days. There's over ten from Brody.

She doesn't want to look at potential apartments today.

She wants to…

Rachel folds her arms, angry with herself, because this isn't who she is. Rachel Berry does not hesitate.

Her phone lights up again, as she stares at it, and this time it is Quinn.

Hi. Hope you are having a good morning. X

Rachel makes a decision.

…

Santana's shower might be possessed. While Quinn is using it, the temperature changes three times, despite the fact that there is no one else in the apartment, and makes sinister noises throughout. Quinn turns it off with relief, the second she's rinsed the shampoo from her hair.

She tucks herself up in a towel, and walks briskly along the cooler corridor to the relative warmth of Santana's room. There's a lock on her door, which makes Quinn feel a bit securer, and she sits on her bed with the intention of sorting through her bag for clothing.

Before she does that, she checks her phone, and impulse that is as automatic as blinking, these days. Nothing back from Rachel. It's been nearly an hour.

Quinn frowns, and chides herself for sending a message. She isn't needy. She's completely fine with how everything is at the moment. She doesn't need Rachel to suddenly become available and hers. Quinn would only make a mess, in some way.

In her mind's eye, Ashleigh folds her arms and raises her eyebrows. In her mind's eye, Quinn tells her to fuck off and mind her own business.

Quinn rises to check her complexion in Santana's mirror, and nearly falls over herself when her phone chimes behind her.

Brittany. It's Brittany. Quinn isn't disappointed, she's just… surprised.

Has Rachel told you that she's going to be moving in with Brody? Because she probably should. Tell you. I mean. Maybe I should tell her to tell you first, but that middle man everyone talks about can be an unreliable ass.

Quinn blinks at the screen for a long second, and then looks ahead, unseeing.

Rachel hadn't told her. Not that it matters in the slightest.

Rachel can live with whoever she wants. Quinn has no say in this.

She's…possibly concerned that Rachel felt that she couldn't tell Quinn. This is big news. If things were as they used to be, Rachel would certainly have told her.

Things are not as they used to be. That much is clear.

Quinn doesn't know what she thinks, beyond a vague, creeping sense of unease. She doesn't like secrets. They don't suit her. She associates nothing but negativity with secret keeping. The longer they're kept, the bigger they explode.

She stands, and stretches, rearranging her towel and running a hand through still wet hair. Quinn's vaguely aware that she is stalling, for reasons she isn't completely certain about. After a moment, she bends to her bag again, determined to actually dress herself, this time.

The apartment buzzer sounds, and Quinn nearly has a heart attack. She frowns, and inches towards the window to look down, but Santana lives five floors up, there's no way she's going to be able to see.

It'll be for one of the other girls. The place is empty. Quinn can safely ignore it. She isn't about to buzz up a total stranger when she's just out of the shower.

She has managed to find her socks when the buzzer sounds again. Quinn frowns, and ignores it.

Her phone sounds this time. Quinn wonders whether she could develop bi-polar disorder just from reading her messages. They seem to be either really good, or really bad, at the moment.

Quinn? Are you in there?

Holy…fuck. Quinn races to the intercom, and picks up the receiver breathlessly.

'Rachel?'

'Hi.'

'What are you doing here?'

'…can I come up?'

Quinn presses the button automatically, because she's never been able to deny Rachel anything. Trouble. She's letting trouble up into her space, and from the way her heart is pounding, she isn't nearly as concerned about this as she should be.

She realizes with a start that she's wearing one sock and a towel, and probably has a minute to become appropriately clothed. Quinn dives back into Santana's room.

…

Rachel climbs the stairs slowly, because she isn't sure whether she should just turn around and go back.

Brody will be waiting. Rachel has put her phone on silent, in an effort to silence her conscience.

Quinn will be leaving soon. Rachel doesn't know when she will see her next. She's allowed to say goodbye, surely?

She's never lied to herself this much before. Rachel wonders for how long she's been lying to herself.

Santana's door seems to arrive quickly, despite her best efforts. If she goes in, Rachel knows exactly how this ends. Or at least, how she wants it to end. Maybe leaving now would be for the best. She has apartments to see. That would be the sensible thing to do. Lord knows it is hard enough to be sensible around Quinn.

The problem, of course, is that she doesn't want sensible. She wants Quinn.

Knocking is easy.

Rachel has to gulp twice when Quinn opens the door with wet hair, wearing what looks like pyjamas. She waves vaguely at Quinn's outfit.

'Oh…sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I could go…'

Quinn smiles at her, and pushes a hand through her hair.

'No, really, it's fine, it's just that I sorting out my clothes when you rang, didn't really think I should answer the door in a towel.'

Rachel has to close her eyes for a moment, and holy fuck, since when has she had such little control of her body's reactions? She cannot be aroused in Santana's stairwell, for god's sake.

When she opens her eyes, Quinn is watching her with a raised eyebrow, and then coughs a little.

'So, uh, do you want to come in? I mean, are you okay? Do you need help with anything, or…?'

Rachel nearly says something inappropriate, but just steps inside, peering past through Santana's corridor into the kitchen. The door shuts behind her, and Rachel drops her bag, and takes off her coat, hanging it neatly on one of the hooks by the door.

'Is anyone else home? I'm not sure I've ever heard this place so quiet.'

Quinn shrugs, seeming very close to her, too close for Rachel to function.

'No, I think they've all gone to work, or didn't wake up here in the first place, so…'

Quinn's t-shirt looks like an old McKinley gym top, about three sizes too big. Rachel doesn't wonder about it, just notices the skin that would normally be covered up. There's a drop of water, resting on Quinn's collar bone, a reminder of Quinn's wet hair. Rachel's reaches out to touch it before she knows what she is doing, rubbing it over Quinn's exposed skin with the pad of her thumb.

She's dizzy, and hears Quinn inhale sharply, just next to her now. Rachel's fingers linger, seemingly unwilling to part from a place that seems so right for them, and Rachel curses inwardly, because this terrible plan is slowly shifting into only thing she could ever want.

She fumbles for correct words.

'Do you… I mean, I could wait, if you wanted to get changed? If you're cold?'

It's such a ridiculous statement, so out of kilter with what she's saying with the rest of her body, that Rachel would roll her eyes, if she was feeling half-way normal.

Quinn reaches for her, and Rachel meets her half way, kissing her so hard Quinn steps back into the wall behind her.

…