Thanks for sticking with me during the five chapter drought of Rachel and Quinn interaction... in this one I actually let them see each others faces! You are all very welcome ;)

Quinn leans back in her chair, and traces trembling fingers over her brow.

She should really… check, somehow. With Rachel.

That would require her to compose hundreds of text messages, or type out an email which could be misinterpreted, or… she could call her.

Quinn could just call her. To check. That meeting up at Santana's would be a good idea. Santana could act as an unwitting chaperone, because Quinn isn't so helpless that she'd kiss Rachel in front of Santana. She does have some kind of self-restraint.

Closing her eyes, Quinn presses hard at her temples, because what kind of person even has this thought process? How is any of this sensible?

Rachel is single, now. Quinn is single, always. They're, well, not friends, but they're friendly again. The messages are friendly. The worst that could happen now is that Santana could figure out that they accidentally fucked in her bed.

Quinn snorts momentarily at the concept of Santana's face upon that revelation, and stands, stretching her limbs out.

It is only seven thirty. There is no way she could even convince herself that it is too late to call Rachel.

It isn't that she is looking for excuses, but... But. Text messages can be re-read before they are sent. Talking to Rachel is a whole different ball game, one that Quinn has never been very good at.

The last time Quinn had heard Rachel's voice they'd been arguing, in Santana's room.

Quinn just wants to fast-forward to the point when they've forgiven each other, and processed, and moved on, and maybe gone on a couple of dates, and Quinn has magically learned how to be in a healthy, functioning relationship, and there isn't all this doubt everywhere.

Recognizing that this mental avenue is only leading to a dead end, Quinn picks up her phone before she can talk herself out of it.

'Quinn?'

Quinn tries not to bite through her lip, and attempts some social niceties.

'Hi Rachel… how are you?'

Rachel's voice sounds slightly manic, when she answers, and Quinn momentarily smiles in sympathy, because if Rachel is feeling anything like Quinn is, well at least Quinn had time to mentally brace herself.

'Well! I'm very well… still looking like being an 'undiscovered talent', when I finish at NYADA next month, so that is a concern, obviously, but I'm very well. And Kurt is fine, um, being a bit fractious with me at the moment, for understandable reasons, but that does create a slight atmosphere of negativity, which, well, doesn't help in my quest for stardom, and so, um, oh my gosh, what am I even saying right now… hi. I'm fine. How are you?'

Quinn just ends up grinning the phone, she can't help it.

'Hi crazy. I'm fine too.'

'Good! Good… that is excellent news, and, uh, belated congratulations for completing all your exams.'

With a slightly embarrassed moment of realization, Quinn notices that at some point in this fledgling conversation, she has started pacing up and down her room, from her door to the window and back. Making an effort, she stills next to the window, gazing out into the dusk.

'Thanks, it'll be a while before I know how they went, but, you know, trying to think positive about next year.'

Rachel still sounds as if she is falling over herself trying to get words out in a sensible order, and Quinn fights an impulse to shush her soothingly.

'Yes, positive thinking is vital in times like this… in fact I have a play list that I designed about a year ago filled with motivational songs, not necessarily all power ballads, I know what you are thinking, so I could send that to you if you were, umm, struggling to maintain a positive mental attitude. I'll edit it first, because many of them are Disney songs, and I'm not sure how I feel about you knowing just how much of a dork I am, although I just told you, so. So. Uh, let me know.'

Quinn reaches for her curtain fabric, just for something to touch, and rubs at it absently.

'Um, thanks. I do like Disney too, you know. I'm not sure I'd like anyone who didn't like Disney; they'd have to be a bit soulless, no?'

Rachel breathes an enormous sigh of relief, as though she's just been let off a big misdemeanor, and just murmurs exactly down the phone, prompting another smile from Quinn, and a lull in the conversation.

Quinn wonders what Rachel is doing. Whether she is standing or sitting. What she's wearing. Whether she's just gotten in or is just going out. Quinn wonders.

'So, um, Rachel, I… you know this thing that Santana wants to happen tomorrow?'

Rachel sounds as though it takes a moment for her to identify what Quinn is referring to.

'The… Santana had asked me to stay at her place tomorrow? Some kind of 'old school slumber party', which is a bit silly because we certainly didn't have any of those at school.'

'Yeah, that. She wants me to come too? And, uh. I was wondering if you would be okay with that?'

Quinn reverts back to pacing, as she waits for Rachel to reply.

'Why… why wouldn't I be?'

'Well, I don't know, you might have wanted some time with just Santana?'

'And not see you?' Rachel swallows the rest of whatever else was about to come out of her mouth, and pauses, just to breathe for a moment, before speaking again. 'No, it would be good to see you, of course you have to come.'

Quinn knows that she is grinning like an idiot now.

'Yeah? I mean, it'd be good to see Santana, I haven't seen her for a while. And you, of course. I just… wanted to check that, I don't know, you wouldn't think it would be awkward… in light of recent events.'

In light of recent events? What is she, a news anchor? Rachel ignores Quinn's new inability to talk like a human being, and responds with a light laugh.

'Oh, um, I'm sure we can be normal. You know. In front of Santana. I've…missed you. It would be nice to see you again. Your face.'

Quinn's face is blushing, she can feel it. Rolling her eyes, and thankful for more small mercies, Quinn tries to steer the conversation towards a conclusion that wouldn't give her any opportunities to embarrass herself.

'Uh, yeah, I've… been feeling the same. So, I'm going to call Santana back now, and confirm. I'm travelling midday, the fares are cheaper…but I'll see you tomorrow night?'

'That would be… yes! Good. Excellent. I'm, I'll be looking forward to it all day.'

Quinn feels her heart clench in her chest, and wonders whether a heart attack has ever felt good before.

'Me too. Bye, Rach.'

'Bye.'

Quinn drops the phone on her bed, and engages in a small, completely irrational victory dance, before flopping down next to the phone.

She should call Santana.

It was good to hear your voice again x

It is typed out and sent without even a twinge of self doubt, and Quinn doesn't even care at how it reads, because she wants Rachel to know how she's feeling.

Yours too x

She's grinning at the ceiling again. If Ashleigh caught her she would have some very choice words about Quinn's only successful long term relationship being between her and her ceiling.

Santana. She needs to call Santana.

Fuck, she has missed Quinn's face. And her own special brand of pretending she doesn't like Santana.

'Sup Q?'

Quinn accepts Santana's offered fist bump with a roll of her eyes.

'Hi. You well?'

Santana snorts at her, and pokes her toe at the backpack Quinn has set by her feet to rest.

'I'd offer to carry that, but we both know which of us has the shoulders of a lineback.'

Quinn looks momentarily outraged, before letting her face smooth over.

'True, you are very frail. Spindly, almost. What are we doing?'

Santana shrugs, and flips a hand over her shoulder vaguely.

'Lunch I thought. If you can stagger to a restaurant with all of your belongings on your back…seriously, how do you manage to travel that light? Please tell me you've at least brought a change of panties?'

Quinn raises an eyebrow at her, and then looks down the street that Santana had just gestured down.

'Always so preoccupied with the state of my panties… lead the way. Lunch sounds good. And I'm just going to borrow all of your belongings, as you know. If you ever came to see me, ever, I'd return the favor…'

Quinn is probably in the same city as her right now.

In fact… no she is definitely in the same city. Right now. It is after midday by some distance, she must be here, somewhere with Santana, saying Quinn things with her Quinn face. See that cloud there? Quinn could be looking at it too, and the entire concept is incredibly exciting.

Rachel is thankful that she had plans today, for another audition. Otherwise she would no doubt spend the entire day walking around her apartment in circles, trying on every item in her wardrobe, talking about Quinn and the possible meanings of her call last night.

This audition is going to be good, she can just feel it. Especially as the part calls for high energy levels and an ability to light up the room, as right now Rachel feels like she could set a room on fire, not just light it up. In a non-pyromaniac way.

Rachel feels like she could run up a wall, she's that excited.

The insane amount of coffee that she has consumed this morning is likely to be a factor in this, but the guy serving had a good listening face, and so she spent about three hours sitting at the corner of his otherwise empty serving station, and had listed pretty much every interaction she had ever had with Quinn ever. She's certain it helped brighten up his day, he gave her a free muffin on her way out, which on reflection may have been a somewhat inappropriate innuendo, but no matter! A free muffin is a free muffin.

Rachel has auditioned on this particular stage….eight times now. Which is good, because it means she doesn't have to worry about asking for directions or getting lost.

Ninth time's a charm, surely.

'You okay Q? You seem a little… twitchy.'

Quinn swallows her mouthful of salad, and nods vaguely at her.

'Yes? I'm fine… just a little spaced from the journey I guess. And you did summon me pretty abruptly.'

Santana takes a long drink of Coke while just looking at Quinn, who seems to get increasingly uncomfortable under her stare.

'What? Do I have something on me?'

'No, but… do you remember when you and I helped Rachel get over Finn by recounting some of BabyBlunder's finest moments of stupidity? We have to do something like that again.'

Quinn rolls her eyes at her, across the booth.

'Yeah, no we don't, because Rachel dumped Brody of her own volition, and also, Brody wasn't the disaster that Hudson was. What would we even say? "Sometimes Brody's friendly and positive attitude could be grating if the recipient is hungover; what a moron?" You're barking up the wrong tree Santana. You're in the wrong forest.'

Whoa, okay, Quinn is not sunshine and light today. Santana holds up her hands in retreat.

'Can you not be so weird, please? Also, that is the second time you've compared me to a dog in the past twenty four hours; consider yourself lucky that I like you, although fuck knows why.'

Quinn rolls her shoulders, and looks like she makes a real effort to simmer down.

'Sorry. Just… didn't sleep great. Sorry.'

Santana clucks at her after a moment, and then prods at her feet under the table with her own.

'Fine. It's fine. I know the mention of Hudson brings back unwelcome flashbacks of the times when you willingly kissed him.'

Quinn bites the inside of her cheek, fighting off a smile.

'Says the girl who actually slept with him?'

Santana flaps a hand dismissively, laughing.

'No, but, half an hour of stupidity can be excused. You have two years of stupidity to explain.'

Quinn doesn't say anything, just forks another mouthful of salad and places it in her mouth, one eyebrow raised. Santana snorts after a second, and throws a fry at her.

'Shut up.'

Quinn's snort of amusement turns into a cough halfway through, and she splutters for a moment before taking a drink, red in the face. It is enough to remind Santana that Quinn is human, and not perfect, and she can feel herself grinning unwillingly, and she picks up the conversation when Quinn has settled herself.

'So yeah, I know that we don't need to go a bitch about Brody to Rachel for an evening, she's already pressed the self-destruct button on that one. But we do need to run some kind of intervention before Rachel throws herself at another man on the rebound, you know what she is like. She does not need that kind of distraction right now; single is probably better for her career ambitions right now.'

Quinn's looking oddly blank faced at her again.

'Uh, wait, what? What makes you think… has she mentioned anyone?'

Santana shrugs, reaching for the ketchup and squirting more than she needs.

'No, but she's playing her cards close to her chest these days, the Brody break up blindsided us all, huh? 'Sides, look at her track record. She rebounds hard. What was it; Finn to Puck, inexplicably, then a bizarre detour with Jesse the human labradoodle, back to Finn, then about a week of being single before Brody moved into her bed… I mean, can you ever remember Rachel not dementedly chasing someone or being in an ill-fitting relationship? No wonder we were all so delighted with Brody, at least the boy didn't have any psychotic tendencies, because Rachel's got more than enough crazy for one relationship.'

Quinn's fork is hovering in the air, as though someone's found her pause button. Santana waits for it all to sink it (honestly, is she the only person who thinks about these things?) and then adds further clarification.

'Basically, we need to make sure that Rachel doesn't pull her usual trick of processing things with her vagina, rather than her brain.'

Quinn manages to fumble all of her cutlery simultaneously, before knocking her knife onto the seat next to her. Reaching for it, Quinn mumbles a couple of swear words, and then glares at Santana.

'Are you kidding me right now? I'm not… I can't handle that kind of conversation with Rachel.'

'Very good Miss Berry. We've all seen you perform before, and… well, this role would seem to be a good fit for you. We have another few girls auditioning on Monday, but we'd certainly like to invite you to the next stage of auditions, which are pencilled in for Friday, if you are available?'

Rachel blinks against the stage lights, trying to see into the darkness, but only silhouettes are presenting themselves. These silhouettes feel friendly, however, and Rachel smiles in their direction.

'That would… I'd be delighted, thank you so much. I think this role certainly has a great deal to be excited about.'

A silhouette waves a hand over towards stage left, and continues.

'If you speak to Michael the stage manager, he'll give you a number which you can contact me on if Friday becomes a problem… keep an eye on your inbox, Rachel. Thank you for coming today.'

Rachel restrains from waltzing out stage left, and in the excitement forgets to notice the familiar name.

Michael the stage manager is… Michael. Brody's friend Michael. Rachel nearly trips over herself trying to figure out the correct way to approach him in a socially acceptable manner.

Michael looks wordlessly at her for a moment, before handing her a slip of card with a raised eyebrow.

'You sounded incredible Rachel. Well done.'

Rachel almost, almost curtsies, but thankfully just removes the card from his fingers with a small smile.

'Thank you, that's kind of you to say. Uh, if you, that is, if you speak to Brody, could you tell him…'

Michael shakes his head swiftly, to cut off whatever horrendous end to that sentence her mouth was about to produce.

'Nah, Rachel, just… give him a bit of time, and then tell him yourself.'

Rachel smiles widely, grateful that the dim lighting means that her suddenly watery eyes are surely obscured.

Quinn life would be a great deal easier if Santana would stop saying the word vagina.

'But, I mean, I'm not judging her, I'm exactly the same; processing trauma with my vagina. I can't tell you how many people I've slept with because I'd wanted to sleep with Brittany, or we were on a break, or I was pretending to not be into vagina. Which is probably why you hadn't recognised Rachel's vagina weakness; you don't do anything with your vagina at all, as far as I can tell, and so the concept is alien to you. What?'

'Santana,' Quinn manages to grit out, through clenched teeth, 'can you stop talking about everyone's… area, like that? I'm trying to eat.'

Santana looks away, and purses her lips.

'So many jokes, so little time… no but, it is true. About Rachel and her, what did you just say, area? Oh jeez, what century are you in? At least vagina is the official biological term. I'm practically being medical in my diagnosis. I could have said pussy. Or…'

Quinn claps her hands to her ears, in an attempt to never hear anything coming out of Santana's mouth ever again.

'Please stop, for god's sake. Or I'm back on the train.'

Santana rolls her eyes, and looks delighted with Quinn's discomfort.

'Okay, don't have an aneurism… can you at least concede that Rachel likes to, what, have sex? Rather than be single? Can you deal with that concept without bailing? And so, in the spirit of friendship, we need to go an convince her that maybe being single for a stretch won't be such a bad idea, despite any stirrings she may feel in her lady area… maybe some kind of lecture of the value and beneficial attributes of masturbation, what do you think? Man, do you think Rachel even masturbates? I bet she pictures herself on stage while she does it. I bet she sings.'

Quinn shuts her eyes, but somehow that just makes the whole thing worse.

'Santana, I'm serious. If you want to deliver a lecture on…that, you can do it when I'm not in the room, okay?'

Santana laughs at her after a second, and nudges at her foot again.

'Wow Q, I didn't even know that people could go that shade of pink… okay, vagina talk over. But you agree with the principle, no? That being single might be the best thing for Rachel right now?'

Quinn pushes her plate away unhappily, suddenly not hungry.

'I think… that Rachel's an adult, San. She makes her own choices.'

Santana flaps a hand around.

'Okay, yes, sure, I'm not suggesting we follow her around, taking out any guys that might talk to her, but friendly advice is allowed, no?'

Why is everything so difficult? Quinn nods reluctantly after a second, helpless against events.

'Sure. Friendly advice.'

The last time she climbed these stairs, Rachel had been climbing them with the intention of kissing Quinn Fabray when she reached the top.

And that was not an option tonight, regardless of how much Quinn looked like Quinn. Or smelt like Quinn. Because, in the quasi-official breakdown of friendships that Rachel carried around in her head, Santana was more Quinn's friend than Rachel's. In the same way that Kurt was more hers than Santana's. Therefore Rachel wasn't allowed to decide when, or even if, Santana got wind of their current, ambiguous, relationship status.

Hell, Rachel doesn't even know what they are, or where she and Quinn are heading right now. She just knows that now she doesn't need to feel so guilty the entire time.

In fact, with the combination of the positive feelings associated with this afternoon's audition, Rachel feels happy. Just plain old, simple, happy. She allows herself to luxuriate in the emotion on the way up, smiling cheerfully at every passing person.

Half way up she recognizes a girl from Santana's apartment coming down, and accepts the greeting wave and half squeeze joyfully, because who'd have known that, at some point in time, Santana's friends would also be hers.

'Yeah, she's in, with Quinn. I think Quinn is cooking something, smells were coming from the kitchen were actually good, so it can't be San. Later.'

Outside the door, Rachel tries to gather herself, and think normal thoughts (none of this is normal. Surely it can't be normal to feel like this, just from being on the other side of the door to someone?) But she doesn't linger too long, because what if someone is watching through the peephole?

'Rachel? Berry! Come in, did you bring me anything?'

Santana is wearing a tshirt and sweats, and looks as she usually does when she has got more than one of her friends in the same place, happy, relaxed, and moments away from snarking out some well meaning insult.

'No, sorry- I was at an audition this afternoon, no time to bake. I brought a bottle of wine, will that do?'

Santana takes the bottle from her hands, and inspects the small print with minute focus for a moment.

'Shit, Rachel, what is this, vintage twenty twelve? Are you kidding me?'

Unbalanced, Rachel stutters an apology.

'I…I'm sorry, you know I know nothing about wine, I just liked the picture on the label, I hope it isn't too bad, I could run down and get a different bottle if you want?'

A hand appears behind Santana's head, and swats at her, causing Santana to yelp.

'Oh sure, Rach, like Santana knows anything about wine beyond that it comes in red and white… she's messing with you.'

Santana rolls her eyes, before flashing a quick grin at Rachel.

'I was just joking, thank you… although I'll have you bitches know that I'm far classier than that. I have heard of fucking rosé, you know. Come in, Rachel.'

Santana traipses off towards the kitchen, and Rachel follows her in, hanging her coat on a familiar hook. When she turns to Quinn, to actually look at her, Rachel doesn't even know what her face must be doing.

Quinn is wearing a green sweater, and her hair is slightly longer than Rachel remembers. That's as much of the extraneous details Rachel can take in before just zoning in on her eyes, on the important stuff.

The half crinkles at Quinn's eyes tell her that she's fighting off a smile with difficultly, and the knowledge makes Rachel's own smile widen, before she bites her lips, trying to restrain herself.

'Hi. Nice to see you.'

Quinn's reaches out towards her, and just runs a hand briefly down Rachel's arm, before withdrawing hastily.

'Yes… you too. Uh. Good journey?'

Rachel blinks at her, and grins.

'What, from my apartment? Yes, it was fine, thanks.'

Quinn presses her eyes together hastily, as though berating herself for saying something stupid, and shakes her head slightly.

'I, yes, well, good. I hear traffic can be a nightmare.'

Rachel just shrugs, unable to prevent herself from teasing, gently.

'Lucky thing I don't own a car then.'

Quinn looks as though she's about to explode, but then she just laughs at herself.

'Phew. Good job, Rachel.'

Santana yells out from the kitchen at that point, reminding Rachel that she can't just laugh along and kiss Quinn for being so silly.

'Bitch tits? That's both of you by the way… what do you want to drink? I have all things, and whatever is in this bottle you've gifted me Berry…'

Quinn made a stirfry. Santana feels like she is about to die of joy.

'Oh my god… seriously, your Ashleigh is a lucky woman, with you cooking for her all the time.'

Quinn fumbles the soy sauce, but recovers magnificently.

'Oh, stirfry isn't hard…just chop everything up small and add a sauce. Though it would have been a lot easier if you had an actual wok. And, uh. Ashleigh isn't my woman, to clarify. I just cook the food she buys.'

Santana waves her fork around in the universal gesture for entirely not the point, right now, and glances at Rachel, who is eyeing Quinn as though she too has realized that Quinn is the cooking Messiah, or whoever is the most Jewishly appropriate.

'Whatever… Rachel does yours taste as good without the chicken?'

Rachel drags her eyes away from Quinn, and smiles quietly at Santana.

'Well, mine is exactly the same as yours, just minus the last minute addition of chicken, so I'd guess so. Though without being able to eat yours I have no way of objectively confirming this, but as this is delicious enough to merit similar levels of enthusiasm to yours, I would imagine we have equally pleasing sensations happening in our mouths.'

Really? Santana looks over at Quinn, who appears to be blushing, and translates helpfully.

'Rachel says yum, by the way.'

Quinn and Rachel perform a synchronised eye roll, which is excellent to watch, and then Quinn reaches for her wine glass, draining the final inch with a couple of gulps.

'Well, that's my duty of making sure no one is poisoned tonight completed… over to you Santana. What next in the evening's schedule?'

Santana grins at this indication that Quinn is actually willing to let her hair down a little tonight, and leans across the table to empty the bottle, half between Rachel's glass, to her muffled protest, and Quinn's.

'Well, I figured we should lie around, eat chocolate, doughnuts, or Rachel friendly weird tasting crap, dependent on your preference, and laugh at bad movies, and, you know. Catch up. Get drunk. That stuff. But I think job number one after dinner should be getting changed into pyjamas, otherwise it barely counts as fun.'

Rachel chews her way carefully through another mouthful, regarding Santana with a very serious expression. After a moment, she swallows.

'San… you have checked this time that they aren't porn? Because sure you don't want to develop a reputation for yourself…'

Quinn snorts with laughter even as Santana flips Rachel off, before sitting back in her seat.

'Whatever Berry, get your digs in now, because you're next…'

The way she is grinning probably takes a bit of the sting out of the threat, and Rachel just grins cheekily at her, before smiling into her wine glass, drinking slow.

Santana enjoys this version of Rachel. This looks like the girl who would actually engage in a detailed conversation about sex and masturbation with Santana until Quinn's head would actually explode.

This should be fun.