Part Five: That Epic Moment When. . .
She was on her third cappuccino and midway through her Psych 102 paper, when she glanced to the clock and saw that it was three minutes til two in the morning. She was so tired that she could legitimately fall asleep standing up and the essay wasn't due until Monday morning, but Quinn was leaving tomorrow to go visit Rachel . . . and Santana and Kurt, for the weekend; she didn't want to have homework getting in the way of spending precious time with Rachel . . . and her friends, of course.
Quinn jumped three feet in the air at the sound of someone knocking on a door. It took her exhausted brain several seconds to realize that the knocking was coming from her door and she squinted at it skeptically. Who would visit her at two in the morning? Hell, hardly anyone ever visited her during waking hours. She had a few study friends in her classes and a couple of kids in Welch Hall that she occasionally hung out with, but most of her time was spent studying during the week so she could go to The City on the weekends.
Part of her wanted to ignore the person behind door 443, but if the persistent knocking were anything to go by, whoever wanted to see her really wanted to see her. Plus, she was pretty sure that allowing someone to bang on her door and wake the whole dormitory up at 2am was a pretty surefire way to lose the few friends she had made at Yale. So, reluctantly, she answered it, not knowing what to expect when she did.
Her eyes bugged when she recognized the person at standing in her doorway. "Ra- Rachel?! What are you doing here?" Quinn asked in shock, taking in the tiny diva standing before Quinn, dressed in her favorite vermilion pea coat, and red high-heels.
Rachel put a hand on Quinn's left collarbone and pushed the blonde back into the dorm room as she said, "I had to see you."
Quinn allowed Rachel to push her further into the room until her knees hit the bed and she fell onto the mattress. Still slightly stunned, she took Rachel's hands in her own. "Rachel, you can always come to me. You can tell me anything," she said earnestly. "What happened? What's wrong?"
A small smile spiked the corners of Rachel's remarkable lips. "It's not something I can tell you. I can't say it in words, Quinn. It's something I have to show you," Rachel explained, taking a half-step back.
Giving Rachel a sweet smile, Quinn nodded in acceptance. "You can trust me, Rach."
"I know that," Rachel answered, a small blush rising to her cheeks, "now. That's why I came."
Upon Quinn's puzzled look, Rachel took another step back, playing with the buttons on her coat until her fidgeting fingers had undone all of them. Her eyes met Quinn's and that intense heat that Quinn had felt while wrapped in Rachel's arms returned with a vengeance. She untied the knot from the coat belt around her waist, and shrugged the coat off, allowing it to fall to the floor.
Quinn, however, was more focused on what Rachel was wearing underneath the coat; or rather, what she wasn't wearing. The blonde felt her face heat up and she swallowed thickly. Rachel had always left her tongue-tied, but this was a whole new level of speechlessness.
Because Rachel was beautiful. The smooth contours of her torso. The way that the planes of her toned abdomen gave way to the smoothness below, effortlessly coinciding with the gentle dip of her waist before the delicate arch of her hips began. Quinn wondered at the alluring curves of Rachel's muscular legs, from glossy thighs to rounded knees to sculpted calves. Seeing parts of Rachel that she had never seen before left Quinn in absolute awe of the girl's perfection.
"God, you are so beautiful," she breathed, unable to stop herself. She looked into Rachel's eyes and all she could think to say was, "I love you, Rachel."
Rachel smirked a deviously delicious smile. "Does this mean that my plan to seduce you is working?" she asked with a coy bat of her eyelashes. She took steps closer to Quinn. "You don't have to just look. You can touch too, if you want."
"I do. But first. . ." Quinn stood up, unintentionally causing their bodies to be flush against one another, and she shivered at the contact.
Her eyes stayed locked on Rachel's gaze until the very last inch, when her eyes finally flitted to those rose petal lips she had fantasized about unknowingly for years. Then those lips were captured between her own and Rachel was sighing into her mouth, her bare body pressing into Quinn. Her hands slid through Rachel's luscious tendrils of hair as she cradled the brunette's head in her hands, urging their mouths together while she suckled on the smaller girl's pouty lower lip.
Quinn broke the kiss only long enough to lean in to whisper into Rachel's ear, "You never needed a plan to seduce me, Rachel. You've been doing it since the day we met."
"Mmm," Rachel hummed from somewhere deep in the back of her throat. "Oh God, Quinn!"
If Rachel's body hadn't already been bare, Quinn would have been ripping her clothes off with reckless abandon. As it were, she lifted Rachel up and spun her around so she was sprawled across Quinn's bed, and Quinn finally had her right where she wanted her. She lowered herself to hover mere centimeters over Rachel's naked body.
She was about to finally, finally do all the things to Rachel that she desperately wanted to do–
Quinn's eyes cracked open and she looked around confusedly. She was laying on her bed in her dorm room, but her back was flat against the mattress, she was covered in a cool sheen of sweat, her hands clutching the sheets beneath her, and she was completely alone. The only explanation for her drastic scene-shift was the molten lava that was boiling in her belly and the throbbing pressure between her thighs.
Before she even knew what she was doing, her phone was in her hand and she had speed dialed a familiar number. The second the ringing stopped, her breath caught.
"I'm officially losing my sanity," Quinn shot off before Santana could even greet her.
"Quinn? Miel, that's been gone for awhile," the Latina returned groggily. Santana paused and Quinn heard shuffling. "Santa Madre de Dios, Quinn! Do you have any idea what time it is?"
In truth, Quinn hadn't even bothered with the time, but the April sun was glaring at her through the window. "Um, morning?"
"It's 6am, Q. What do you want?"
"I had a dream about Rachel," Quinn explained.
"Ay Dios mios, Q. It is way too early in the morning for me to handle your lesbian love angst," Santana griped There was a long, heavy pause between them before Santana's foggy mind processed Quinn's words. "Whoa. Hold on a minute. Was this Rachel-dream a sex dream?" Another long silence from Quinn. "Oh my God! You had a sex dream about Rachel Berry!"
"SANTANA! Keep your voice down. Remember that you live with her," Quinn hissed.
Santana scoffed through the phone line, "As if I could forget." She was quiet again and Quinn swore she could hear Santana smirking. "She's in the shower right now. You know, all warm and wet and steamy, little beads of water running down between her–"
"Yes, Santana! I get it. Thank you," Quinn snapped briskly. "Believe me, the mental images are not needed. My brain seems perfectly capable of coming up with them all on its own."
Another long stretch of silence. "So?" Santana demanded finally.
"So?" Quinn repeated.
Santana let out a groan of exasperation. "My God, you are so dense sometimes! I'm talking about the dream-sex with Dream-Rachel! How was it? Did she get you there?" the raven-haired woman questioned eagerly.
"If you're this excited about my imaginary sex life, I hate to think what it's going to be like when I actually am having sex," Quinn deadpanned, but she knew Santana wouldn't stop without an in-depth explanation. "Fine. I was in my dorm room and Rachel showed up at, like, two in the morning and–"
"Did she sing?"
"What? No, she didn't sing. Do you want me to tell you or not?"
"Sorry. Please continue."
"Anyway, she kept telling me she needed to see me and she needed to show me something. She took off her coat and she was wearing nothing underneath. I must have been staring because she told me, um, that I could . . . touch . . . if I wanted to," Quinn described awkwardly. "I kissed her and it was, like . . . wow! I can't even put it into words. It was the best kiss I've never had. Then I laid her down, but right before we could, you know, get anywhere . . . I woke up."
"Wow, that really sucks," Santana remarked. "All that build-up? I bet you're frustrated right now. Or did you already relieve that tension yourself, Q?"
"I swear, sometimes I forget why we're friends," Quinn said impassively. "But, I mean, what do I do?"
She must have caught Santana unawares, because the girl took a moment to answer. "What do you do? I would have thought that would have been kind of obvious. I don't know, if the whole self-loving thing doesn't go for you, Q, maybe you should take a cold shower."
"Not that! I mean about Rachel! What am I going to do, Santana? I'll be at the loft by tonight, and how am I supposed to look at Rachel without picturing her all. . ."
"Naked and sexy?" Santana supplied. She sighed somberly, "Quinn, I've told you what to do– tell her! She's not going to reject you, so do us all a favor and just profess your undying love for her already! Then you can get it on for reals."
Quinn groaned and fell back onto her pillow with her phone still clutched in her hand. "Santana . . . it's different with Rachel," she said sounding helpless. "Wanting her . . . it isn't about popularity or status or just making myself feel good, like it was with everyone else I've ever dated. I've never actually liked anyone I've been with, except for maybe Puck because he's Beth's father and even now he's always there for me as my friend.
"But with Rachel . . . I don't want to just use her or fuck her, okay? I'm in love with her. I want to be with her." She could feel herself getting emotional now, and she was thinking now that maybe Santana was right; maybe it was too early in the morning for angst. "And I'm scared, because she makes me feel things that I've never felt before."
Quinn sucked in a calming breath. "Santana, I have messed up so much with Rachel. There's been so many times when she's had every right to walk out of my life forever, but if I let her in and she finally leaves . . ." Quinn took the phone away from her head and stifled a sob through her hand, trying to reign in her 'angst' before continuing to talk to Santana.
Santana's response was much less dramatic. "Are you done yet?" And when Quinn didn't say anything further, she went on, "Q, you're right. You've fucked up things with Rachel a lot, we both have, but the fact that she has never given up on us should be a pretty clear indicator that she's not going to. Even if we want her to, which from time to time, I kind of do.
"And the wanting her for more than social advantage or sex? Wanting to really be with her? Quinn, that's healthy. You should want that, but it's okay be scared too. I always was when I was with Brittany. The fact is that it's easier without feelings; it feels safer because you feel like your heart isn't on the line. But what's it even worth if none of it is real?"
Quinn sighed. "I want to tell her, but what if she doesn't want me after everything I've done to hurt her? How could she ever trust me? Especially after I lied to her about the two of us hooking up? And after adding that to my reputation as a cheater . . . ?"
"You cheated on people who didn't really mean anything to you. Rachel does," Santana reminded her. "Wake up, Quinn! She loves you! She always has, and she's been waiting for you all these years. It's her, Q. It's always been her. Open your eyes and do something, or shut up about it. You can't play on the safe side forever and I'm tired of fighting the two of you on this."
Quinn sighed, feeling the relentless inner turmoil churn inside of her, She had deluded herself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, if she left things alone, then both she and Rachel could move on and move past this . . . whatever it was . . . that was between them. She was jittery with anxiety, and she knew it wouldn't go away until she saw Rachel.
"I'll be in New York in a few hours," she decided aloud.
"What about your classes?" Santana asked.
"They'll be there on Tuesday after I get back," Quinn concluded. "Text me to let me know when Rachel gets out of the shower. And thanks, Santana."
Kurt knew Santana's Satan-face when he saw it, and he was seeing it now. Which was scary, for several reasons. First of all, to see Santana's face at all at this hour after she had worked the night before was virtually unheard of. Second, the Satan-Face was terrifying at any hour. Third and perhaps most importantly, she didn't look like she was out to get someone, she looked like she was out to get something, and since she was looking at Kurt, it didn't mean anything good for him.
"Morning, Satan– uh, Santana," Kurt quickly corrected himself. He looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "You're awake early," he added in an attempt to distract her from his slip-up.
From the look in her eyes, Santana had noticed the slip-up, but she didn't seem fazed by it in the least. "Kurt," she greeted him, stepping into the bathroom and rifling through her newly-presented drawers. She grabbed her facial cleanser and toothbrush, and Kurt moved a step over to make room for her. "Morning, Rachel Rae," she called over the sound of the showerhead.
Rachel's head peeked out from behind the curtain and she looked in astonishment at Santana. "Hey. Uh. . . Santana, didn't you work an eight-to-two shift last night?" She exchanged looks with Kurt.
"Yeah," Santana said, her mouth full of toothpaste. She spit in the sink and looked back up to her roommates. "Collegiate-Barbie decided she needed to call me at six a.m. with a crisis, so I got up. Figured I'd sneak in a run before Q graced us with presence."
"Are you planning on running for ten hours?" Kurt asked dryly. "Because that's insane, even for you."
Santana shot him a look as she finished brushing her teeth. "Kurt, I'm currently running on less than four hours of sleep. Don't push me," she warned him. "And, to answer your passive-aggressive little question, no, I am not going to run for ten hours. Quinn's on her way here now."
They both heard a thunk and Rachel muttering expletives Santana hadn't known were in Rachel's (sometimes irritatingly) extensive vocabulary. Then the brunette's head appeared from behind the shower curtain again. "Q-Quinn . . . is coming . . . now?" she asked in disjointed syllables.
"That's what I said," Santana confirmed, and Kurt was catching on to exactly what Santana was up to now.
"Coming here now?" the diva squeaked, her eyes getting wider.
Santana rolled her eyes and splashed water on her face. "No, she's coming to Zimbabwe. Yes here, Rachel," Santana sniped, her impatience beginning to get the best of her.
Rachel was now gaping like a rainbow trout. "But- but she has classes! Quinn wouldn't miss her classes, unless– OH MY GOD! Is she okay?!"
"RACHEL, CALM DOWN!" both Kurt and Santana yelled at her at the same time.
"Breathe, sweetie," Kurt reminded her, pulling the curtain back over Rachel's line of sight and shooting Santana a 'what-the-hell?' sort of look.
"She's fine, Rach," Santana assured her, shrugging back at Kurt. "She just couldn't wait to see you– uh, us. She's had a . . . frustrating week." Her eyes met Kurt's meaningfully at this, and his own eyes widened in sudden understanding. She continued talking to Rachel in a calming voice, "Quinn just needs to be with people who love her right now."
"Then it's good she's coming here," Rachel stated decisively. "I'll make sure she's feeling much better by the end of the day."
"I know you will," Santana replied. She tried to keep the suggestiveness out of her voice, but she wasn't sure how successful her attempts were. "Well, I'm out. I'll let you finish your shower." Santana strode to the door with Kurt right behind her, but as she exited she couldn't resist throwing over her shoulder, "Don't forget to shave!"
"SANTANA!" the two heard her shriek as the door closed behind them.
Kurt pursed his lips at her as she cackled. "Was that really necessary?" he demanded.
"Hey, you can take the girl out of the bitch, but you can't take the bitch out of the girl," Santana demanded, still smirking. "I can't help it, and she knows I do it because I love her. If I started being nice all the time, she'd think I was up to something."
"And Quinn? You had to mention that while she was in the shower?" Kurt's face was the perfect image of disapproval.
Santana's face turned more somber. "Rachel is a mature adult–"
"Unlike someone else we know," Kurt griped under his breath.
"And relatively innocent for a girl who does yoga and palates every morning and can literally bend over backwards. I'm telling you, that girl is flexible," Santana stated, equally impressed and suggestive.
"While she was naked. In the shower," Kurt repeated, enunciating every syllable slowly.
Santana didn't say anything. She simply stood there, looking at Kurt with an emotionless face and making him feel like he was being x-rayed. He squirmed under her gaze before she finally said, "It is not my fault that Quinn and Rachel get turned on at the mere mention of each other's names," she defended herself calmly, as if making a formal statement. "And, Quinn's already a ball of sexually frustrated nerves. So if Rachel is too . . ." She let her sentence taper off and settle in Kurt's brain.
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're insane," he stated very clearly, "and if Quinn or Rachel ever found out what you're doing right now, they would kill you and bring you back so they could kill you again."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Santana concluded confidently.
Despite Santana's reassurance, Rachel still felt worried over Quinn and what sort of crisis she might be in. It was second-nature for her to want to know everything, but with Quinn it was different. She didn't feel like she wanted to know everything; she felt like she needed to know everything. The fact that Quinn had gone to Santana in her time of need instead of Rachel made the brunette feel like the second-choice, much the same as she had when Quinn had chosen Santana to 'experiment' with.
What's wrong with me? Rachel wondered, sighing aloud.
Her phone rang then, and she dug in her coat pocket where she had put it earlier before going for a walk in the nearest park. The caller ID read Quinn's name, and for a fleeting moment Rachel thought about ignoring the call, but how would that make anything better? It wouldn't, and if Rachel were being honest with herself, she really just needed to hear Quinn's voice. So she answered her phone before it could go to voicemail.
"Hello, Quinn," she answered in a polite, yet restrained voice.
"Hi," Quinn greeted her brightly. "I was afraid you were in class or something. I realized I don't know your schedule, I should probably work on that." She laughed lightly, and Rachel found herself trying to halt her face from smiling. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I'm coming into New York early today."
Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes petulantly. Of course Quinn would only think to tell her as an afterthought. "I know. Santana told me this morning," Rachel said in flat voice.
"Oh," was Quinn's reply, but her voice was strangled, like she was trying to hide disappointment. The blonde sighed on the other line. "And since you found out from Santana first, probably right after she got off the phone with me, you're wondering why I'm only telling you now." It was a statement, not a question.
Rachel cursed how well Quinn could read her, even when they weren't within sight of one another. Quinn knew her. Quinn was silent for long enough that Rachel let out an impatient sigh and said, "You don't have to give me an excuse, Quinn. It's probably none of my business anyway."
"You're upset," Quinn noted, and Rachel could practically hear her frown. "Rach, I shouldn't have even told Santana. I should have known she would tell you that I was coming early and blow a hole in my plans."
That stopped Rachel mid-eye roll. "What plans?" she asked.
"The only way you'll find out is if you turn around," Quinn sing-songed playfully.
Unable to resist the sudden temptation, Rachel slowly swiveled to see Quinn standing a little distance away, phone still to her ear, beaming in her direction and waving. When Quinn was sure Rachel had seen her, she began walking forward and ended the call when they were well within earshot of each other.
Quinn wore and apologetic look on her face and a sheepish grin. "I was trying to surprise you," she explained as she stepped in arm's reach. She held her arms out to each side, waiting for one of Rachel's hugs that Quinn so cherished. When Rachel didn't immediately step into her arms, the shy smile fell from Quinn's face and she asked, "Are you still mad?"
Rachel felt her heart beat hard. Once. Twice. Then her face split into a smile and she shook her head. "I'm not mad," she said. "I'm just surprised."
Laughing at the irony, Rachel flung herself into the blonde's embrace, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck and holding her tightly. She inhaled the cucumber-melon aroma of Quinn's hair and the sugary floral smell that Rachel had come to know was Quinn's all-natural scent. She had needed this. She had needed Quinn. She wondered if this feeling of longing was ever going to go away and she silently hoped that it wouldn't.
"I'm sorry that I upset you," Quinn apologized into Rachel's ear. "I really was just trying to surprise you."
"Well, I'm definitely surprised," Rachel told her, pulling away reluctantly. She looked Quinn over and noticed the lack of luggage. "Have you already been to the loft?"
"Yeah. Kurt told me I'd find you here so I left my things there and came to look for you," she explained with that smile that Rachel thought Quinn reserved just for her.
The feeling of déjà vu had been nagging at Rachel for several moments now and she suddenly realized why upon taking a closer look at Quinn. "You're coat," she said out loud, causing Quinn to look at her oddly. "You've worn this in New York before. When we were here for Nationals. We should have been writing songs but we all went out to the park and we were all so excited to finally be at Nationals and in The Big Apple. You and I were walking beside each other on the path," Rachel remembered, taking Quinn's arm through her own. "I remember you were upset, Finn had just broken up with you at Jean Sylvester's funeral." She glanced sideways at Quinn to see the blonde looking at her with a familiar smirk. "We were talking and actually getting along, because you were so sad and I just wanted to say anything to make it better for you. Finally, I just said–"
"I'm going to hug you now'," Quinn cut in, remembering that day clearly now. "And you did." Quinn imitated the moment by throwing an arm over Rachel's shoulders as they walked. "I even felt a little better after that."
"Until I went on a date with Finn and you found out and tried to sabotage the competition," Rachel carried on, catching Quinn unawares.
"Ye– Whoa! Wait! What?!" Quinn stopped suddenly, causing Rachel to stop as well, if only just to grin wickedly at her. "How did you know. . .?
"Santana told me," Rachel explained, laughing at Quinn's fish-out-of-water impression.
"And you're not angry?"
Rachel looked at her with a hand on her hip. "Quinn Fabray,"– she paused to face Quinn fully and grip the lapels of the girl's coral-colored jacket– "how often do I actually get genuinely angry at you?" she asked.
Quinn seemed to think about it for a minute, before linking her arm through Rachel's again. "Point taken," she admitted, fighting a smile.
They continued walking in silence for a few more minutes. It was probably the longest Quinn had ever heard Rachel be totally silent while she was awake, but she definitely felt better when Rachel began talking again.
"Santana mentioned you had a frustrating week," Rachel remarked openly, leaving it up to Quinn whether she wanted to talk about it or not.
A scowl of annoyance and resentment took over Quinn's lovely features. "She did, did she?" Her scowl deepened when Rachel nodded. "I'm starting to think we should start talking directly to each other instead of telling Santana everything. Messages seem to get mixed when she passes them along."
Rachel laughed and Quinn smiled at the sound, letting it reverberate across her skin and relax her whole body. She took Rachel's dainty hand in hers, admiring it for a few moments as they continued walking before letting their joined hands swing together between them. Man-Hands? Where ever had she even gotten that from? Rachel's hands were so tiny and delicate, with long, lithe pianist's fingers. To imagine . . .
"I was frustrated," Quinn said simply. She squeezed Rachel's hand in hers, "But I'm better now . . ." that I'm with you, she wanted to add, but that would be too forward of her.
Rachel ducked her head. "But you probably want to get back to the apartment to talk to Santana about it," she sighed, trying unsuccessfully to conceal her disappointment.
Quinn chuckled softly. "No."
The brunette's head perked up. "No?"
"Nope," Quinn repeated. She squeezed Rachel's hand, wishing she could just be holding Rachel's entire body again. "I came to New York early to spend the day with you, Rachel. I'm all yours." Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel caught the double meaning in her statement, but the brunette's eyes sparked for a second, as if in recognition.
"Would it be weird if I said that I think I like that?" Rachel asked sheepishly.
This time Quinn couldn't help it. She spun Rachel out like they were dancing, and snapped the brunette back to her body in a close embrace. "I would be disappointed if you didn't," she answered as Rachel's hands came up to tangle in her blonde locks and she laughed.
Sorry for the delay, everyone. I hope no one has given up on me; it's just been an insane week at school, seeing as we just starting the six-week countdown to the end of the semester. Anyway, hope you liked. R&Rs always make me a happy H.J.
LUVS.