One Too Many Rounds With Jose Cuervo

"Y' know, Q, 'f I didn' know 'ny betrer, I'd think you werent havin'a good time," Santana commented offhandedly. She watched as Quinn downed her fifth shot of Jose Cuervo that night and chase it with a swig from her vodka cranberry ("hold the cranberry") and pout into the empty shot glass.

"Why doesn' Rachel like me'nymore?" Quinn asked, either not hearing or not caring that Santana had asked her a question.

From her slurred speech and dazed, glassy eyes, Santana knew she was officially hammered. "We used 'o be friennds," Quinn continued. Her brow furrowed in consternation but the look disappeared and a faint gleam appeared in Quinn's hazel eyes as she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered loudly with a hand on one side of her mouth, "Sometimes. . . I think maybe it was more."

Quinn leaned back and picked up her glass of vodka, waving it around as she explained, "I'mean, she'so pretty, y' know? Like, not in the usual "Cover Girl" way like you'n'me, 'cause we're, like, a dimadozen 'specially 'round here. But Rachel is gen– genu– genuinin– really beautiful. She just . . . shines, like from the inside out, like she's made of gold or something. She has those eyes and– and that mouth! It makes such beau'iful music! And 'er smile. . ." Santana could've sworn that Quinn swooned a little, before she barreled on in her Rachel-monologue. "Then there's her heart, she's s' sweet and she's always soo caring, even to piple who don' deserve it. And she's honest–"

This comment was cut off by Santana's loud bark of laughter. The irony of the situation was just too rich. Here was Quinn, mooning after Rachel Berry, calling her honest when Rachel was lying to Quinn and mooning after the blonde. God, it was like some warped, lesbian Romeo and Juliet. Plus, both she and Quinn were drunk, which made everything even funnier.

She noticed Quinn's glare a moment too late, as the blonde snapped, "What?! You don' think sh' is?"

"Q, 'f only y' knew," Santana remarked. Quinn stood up suddenly, drawing Santana's attention from her martini. "Q! Where 're you goin'?" Santana asked, standing up herself and suddenly getting a head-rush and having to sit back down.

"We should go back to the ap'r'ment on Rachel to check," Quinn declared. "S'was upset earl'r. Should've brought her with us." The blonde's forehead crinkled as her own words set in to her alcohol-blitzed mind. "I mean. . ."– she tried unsuccessfully to focus her gaze on Santana –"You know what I meant. I thin' I'm getting start to buzzzzzz. . . ." Quinn trailed off on the word. Then her mind seemed to snap back to her, "Let's go find Rachel!"

"Quinn, I'm so ev'n I can't drunk walk," Santana argued groggily.

"Fine," Quinn sighed. " 'll go'back m'self." With that, Quinn grabbed her purse and stumbled out of the bar.

She knew she shouldn't have lied to Quinn and Santana. She should have talked to them about what was going on, but how could she when mentioning it to Quinn would mean admitting her feelings and mentioning it to Santana would only lead to another "tell her" argument? It was killing her. She had always told Quinn everything, even when Quinn hadn't wanted to know, with the exception of her pregnancy scare and the Brody catastrophe, and now Quinn even knew that. But telling Quinn that Rachel wanted her? Wanted to kiss her and hold her hand and fall asleep in her arms and show her how much she meant to Rachel in the most intimate way? It was inconceivable. It was Quinn Fabray, and she was Rachel Berry.

Her brooding and crying was interrupted when someone stumbled through the steel sliding door and fell face-first onto the floor just inside the apartment. The giggles that came after the prompt thunk! were distinctly Quinn's and Rachel rose to her feet to investigate. The first thing she saw when she walked out of her room was Quinn rolling onto her back on the kitchen floor, still laughing like a lunatic. The blonde tilted her head back and caught and upside-down vision of Rachel.

"Rach!" she cried happily, stumbling to her feet and staggering over to wrap her arms around Rachel. "I was looking for you!"

"Um, Quinn? You're really intoxicated," Rachel pointed out. She looked around, "Where's Santana?"

Quinn pulled away enough to let Rachel judge from her face that the thought hadn't really occurred to the blonde. "Huh. I don' knew. I los' her in 'e lob-ee."

Rachel put a hand to her forehead and sighed. "Okay," she said, she took Quinn by her forearms and pushed her back into a chair at the kitchen table. Rachel briefly took her eyes off of Quinn long enough to get her a glass of water, before turning back to set it in front of her. "You drink that, okay? And I'm going to go find Santana."

As she was about to walk away, Quinn grabbed her wrist. "No. Stay here with me," Quinn pleaded.

Rachel made the mistake of looking into the girl's hazel eyes, which had always had the unique ability to mesmerize Rachel. Years of practice allowed her to shake herself out of it and extricate her wrist from Quinn's grasp. Her skin immediately shivered in protest of losing Quinn's touch.

"I'll be right back," she promised. She pointed to the glass of water, "Drink that. I mean it."

True to Quinn's word, Santana was sitting with her head between her knees in the lobby, looking for all the world like she'd drank all the liquor in New York City. Rachel lightly put her hand on Santana's shoulder and when the girl looked up at her, Rachel was pretty sure that Santana's face was tinted slightly green.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked, trying to keep her voice down because she knew how Santana could go from happy drunk to weepy drunk to pitifully hungover at the drop of a hat. Oh, and apparently she also got handsy with Quinn when drunk as well.

"It's official. Quinn's lost it," Santana groaned. "Your girlfriend is nuts, Rachel."

Rachel rolled her eyes and draped one of Santana's arms over her shoulders to heave her up. "Quinn is not nuts, she's drunk. As are you," Rachel corrected her somewhat impatiently. "And she's not my girlfriend."

Santana snickered. "I don't think she got that message."

The smaller brunette stopped and looked at Santana's face for a moment and then shook her head. "God only knows what your blood alcohol level is right now," Rachel remarked.

"I'm serious, Rachel."

"So am I, Santana."

"So you won't mind if I sleep with her again?"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"Absolutely not."

As they were stepping off the newly-fixed elevator onto the third floor, Santana pulled Rachel to a stop and, as seriously as she could possibly be while totally wasted, said to her, "She didn't shut up about you all night. Wouldn't stop going on about how pretty and how smart and how sweet and how honest you were, and how much she wished you came with us."

Because she– was– drunk, Santana," Rachel replied in clipped tones. "Now she's sitting inside the kitchen, so not another word, alright? If you still wanna talk about it, we'll argue about it some more in the morning."

Santana yawned. " 'Kay. Sounds good."

When they went in, Quinn wasn't where Rachel had left her, but the glass of water was empty and she could hear her making sounds somewhere in the house. She deliberated, but finally decided to lay Santana down in her bed before going in search of Quinn; Rachel didn't exactly think of the possibility of finding Quinn on her way to Santana's curtained-off room, much less that the blonde might be half-naked upon finding her.

Yet there was Quinn, in the middle of the living room, trying to take her top off, the shades of the windows wide open for God and everyone to see. She stumbled and nearly fell, but Rachel was there with a hand on her elbow just in time to catch her.

"Damn, chica," Santana crowed, appreciatively eyeing Quinn's body and licking her lips. "Those abs are still as fine as I remember them." Santana reached out a finger to trace the contours of Quinn's well-toned stomach. "If I weren't already gay. . .. Hey! I Can help you outta that shirt!"

Quinn, however, was ignoring her in favor of Rachel's steadying grip. Her eyes turned imploringly to the only sober person currently in the room. "Rach, 'm not feeling so good," she told her friend, still wrestling with the fabric of her red blouse.

"It's going to be okay," Rachel told her, gently steering her to sit on the couch and pushing her hands away from her shirt. "I'll help you in just a second, okay? I'll be right back. Just sit here."

Quinn nodded, but that seemed to make her dizzier so her put her head in her hands.

Meanwhile, Rachel half-carried Santana into her makeshift room, pulled back the covers, and helped the girl into bed, pulling the comforter up around Santana's shoulders. She pushed a few errant strands of black hair behind Santana's ear. "I'll be back with a glass of water and some Advil as soon as I get Quinn situated." Santana nodded, then promptly fell asleep.

Taking care of two drunk former-HBICs was not her favorite activity, Rachel decided as she hurried back into the living room, only to find Quinn gone again. This time though, she could hear the girl in the bathroom coughing. Santana was now asleep, so Rachel top priority was now Quinn. Not that there had been a second since Quinn tumbled through her door that the blonde hadn't been her priority.

"Quinn?" she called, knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open.

Quinn was knelt between the shower and the toilet, throwing up whatever alcohol she had put into her body that night. Her face was pale except for the same tint of green that Santana had had earlier, only made more noticeable by her pale and flawless complexion. She glistened with a sheen of sweat that started at her hairline and traveled down her jaw and neck, only disappearing beneath the crimson fabric of her shirt.

She looked up at Rachel and the brunette realized that perspiration wasn't the only moisture on her face. Tears were slipping from her currently green eyes, down her cheeks and lingering on her dry lips. All in all, Quinn was a complete mess, and Rachel still found her heartbreakingly beautiful and endearing.

"Oh, sweetie," Rachel breathed out, kneeling next to the blonde and pulling her hair back just as another wave of nausea overcame her body. It was all Rachel could do just to hold back Quinn's hair and rub her back and whisper reassurances as Quinn sobbed and vomited.

"I'm s-sorry, Rachel," Quinn wept when the sickness had passed. "I'm s-s-s. . ."

"Ssh, ssh, no," Rachel hushed her. "It's okay. This is what friends do, right?"

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Quinn?"

Quinn tugged at her top again. "Will you help me take it off? I"– another sob wracked Quinn's body– "I've tried, but it just won't come off and I'm so hot and. . . and . . ." Quinn was getting more and more hysterical.

"Ssh, come here," Rachel told her. She took a deep, steadying breath as she grasped the hem of the shirt and gently pulled it free from Quinn's overheated body. "There. Is that better?" she asked the blonde, who was now only bra-clad.

Of the many scenarios featuring a shirtless Quinn that Rachel's overactive imagination had conjured up in the last three weeks (and there had been a lot, mind you; so many that Rachel started to believe she was devolving into a teenage boy) this had not been one of them. While her fantasies involving Quinn had always been somewhat (okay, totally) sexually charged, in this real moment all Rachel could think about was caring for Quinn. Still, Rachel couldn't stop her face from flushing.

Quinn started crying again. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm making you so uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

"Hey, Quinn, I told you that it's okay," Rachel reminded her. "Actually, I kind of feel honored to be here for you when you're not feeling well. It makes me feel important . . . needed."

Quinn nodded with her head against Rachel's chest. "You are important, you're essential to my sanity. I need you, Rachel. I've always needed you, even when I was scared to admit it." She paused for a moment, still clinging to Rachel. In a far-off voice, she mused aloud, "I was so scared. . . Why was I so scared? It doesn't make any sense now. . . How could I be scared of something that makes me feel so safe, so loved and cared for."

"You really are drunk," Rachel sighed, as if just realizing the extent of Quinn's intoxication.

Quinn crawled into Rachel's lap and relaxed into the diva's body. "Rachel?" she asked in a child-like voice.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"I'm scared now."

Hearing those words said in such a small voice from such a strong woman, Rachel couldn't help but tighten her arms around Quinn and run her fingers through her blonde locks. "What are you so scared of?" Rachel inquired, holding Quinn close. She smoothed her hand over the silky strands of Quinn's hair.

"Losing you," Quinn whispered, like she was afraid that if she said it any louder her fear would come true.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel breathed, clutching Quinn just that much more.

"I can feel it happening," the blonde sobbed. "You're pulling away and I feel like I just got you." Quinn sniffled. "I know it's my own fault. If I hadn't been so mean to you and so afraid and insecure, we could've been friends all of high school. I could have made you love me, because you're the type of person who could actually care about me."

"Hey," Rachel cut in. She cupped Quinn's teary face in her hands, "That's not going to happen, okay?" Rachel brushed away a few tears from Quinn's face, but she could feel droplets slipping from her own eyes now as she looked earnestly into Quinn's eyes. "Quinn, you are never going to lose me. Ever."

Rachel sighed and hugged Quinn, before standing up to retrieve a washcloth from the tower baskets near the door and wet it under the faucet. She looked down and held her hand out to Quinn. "Come here," she whispered, pulling Quinn to her feet and maneuvering her to rest against the vanity. "May I?" Rachel asked politely, holding the wet cloth and gesturing to Quinn's face. The taller girl nodded and Rachel took a step closer and gently took Quinn's chin in one hand while the other applied the cloth to the girl's flawless visage. She felt Quinn's hands come to grip her waist.

"Hey, Rach? What's that feeling you get when you feel like you've done something before? Thinking is hard for me right now," Quinn asked softly.

Rachel's brows pulled together. "You mean déjà vu?" she asked distractedly, wiping away the chilled sudor and sticky dried tears from the girl's cheeks.

Quinn smiled. "Yeah, déjà vu. This feels like déjà vu. Standing here with you," she explained, then she giggled. "Why is it that all the pro– prof– profou– all of the im-por-tant moments in our relationship always happen in bathrooms or hallways?"

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at that herself, having not even realized the truth of that until now. "I guess I never thought of it before, but it is pretty funny," she said.

Quinn smiled sleepily and swayed to a song that must have been playing in her head. "I'm getting really tired," she told Rachel. Quinn lifted her arms around Rachel neck, causing Rachel to sway with her, and started humming. Rachel recognized it immediately as a song that had played constantly on the radio maybe six years ago.

Just as she expected Quinn knew she would, Rachel started singing as she led Quinn from the bathroom and into the living room.

"'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you "

Rachel wasn't sure what her plan had been in leaving the bathroom, but Quinn seemed to have a plan of her own, as she pulled Rachel to stop and looped her arms around the brunette's neck again. "Dance with me," Quinn whispered in a voice that left Rachel's resistance in ruins. "Just sing and sway."

"What if the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right?
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here"

Quinn's head fell to Rachel's shoulder, and for the millionth time that night, Rachel's breath caught in her throat. The way that Quinn's whole body sagged and molded into hers was nothing short of breathtaking.

Besides, it wasn't like Quinn was sober enough to be capable of remembering this in the morning, right? . . . Right? . . . ?

"'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you
and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you"

Tears slipped from Rachel's eyes because if she had ever felt pain in her life, this was it. Just facing this and the truth of it was more painful than Finn putting her on a train to New York when they were supposed to be getting married and finding out that Brody was a prostitute put together. At least then she had known what she was going to be missing, but with Quinn, Rachel could only ever imagine. And that was the worst part.

"What day is it?
And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive"