XIII
Rachel doesn't know how it happens - she's a little hungover on far too much wine - but she wakes in her own bed… and she's not alone.
She panics for all of three seconds before she realises the body curled around her own belongs to none other than Quinn Fabray. She can feel soft puffs of air against the skin of her neck, and she can't recall feeling this content ever before in her life.
Waking up like this is what she wants.
This much she knows.
She wants it with Quinn.
With that thought in mind, Rachel closes her eyes and slips back into slumber… where she dreams of a world in black and white. The only colour she sees is the hazel of Quinn's eyes, and the dream is trying to tell her something, she's sure.
Whatever it is, she almost wants to ignore it, but, when her eyes next open, she's face-to-face with a slumbering Quinn Fabray, and she knows, without a doubt, that she can't ignore anything that's happening.
It's an impossibility now.
Waking to Rachel Berry in her arms isn't anything new for Quinn. Not by a long shot. In fact, they've woken like this more times than she can count, and it's never been able to get old.
The feeling is everything and nothing, and Quinn would give an arm and leg for it to be an everyday thing.
Today, though, feels different, for some reason. It feels like so much more, and the fact that it's not real is suffocating and heartbreaking. She wants this, but she doesn't want it like this. She wants it in a way she's not sure she'll ever get.
Rachel will never want her the way Quinn wants her, and that's about as realistic as it gets.
Which is why, once she's soaked up the feeling as much as she can, and feels it turn to something painful, she rolls out of bed and heads to the kitchen. She needs water and possibly a painkiller, and then she needs to get out of here as quickly as possible.
She knows she has to do more to protect her heart, but how can she possibly pass up the opportunity to be Rachel's anything, even in this fake capacity? She was naïve to think she could have ever said no to participating in this ridiculous scheme. She would do anything for Rachel, and everyone knows it.
Even Rachel knows it, which is probably why she came to her in the first place. Her resistance must have been amusing to them all.
If she's being honest, Quinn didn't ever think she would be this person. Based on whom she was in her youth, she can't really see where she turned into this sad, hopeless, pining mess. If the HBIC could see her now, she would be disappointed. If Sue Sylvester could see her… God.
She's known she has to end it for a while now, but the truth of it hasn't been more apparent to her than in this moment. It's going to end in disaster, otherwise, and her friendship with Rachel is too important to her to risk… an explosion, of sorts.
She's already made a habit of dealing with her repressed feelings, and letting them out of the cage now, only to bury them again is just dangerous and unnecessary.
With a heavy sigh, Quinn starts making coffee, because she's definitely going to need it to get through this day. This weekend. However she's going to manage it, one thing is clear: come Sunday, she's going to end this entire thing with Rachel. She deserves that. They both deserve better than this ruse.
Which is really the thought that sees her abandoning the coffee and leaving the apartment immediately. She has to get home to shower and change, anyway, if she's going to make it on time for her meeting with Jordan.
It's something to focus on, she supposes. Her career is about to take off, and she's on her way to an actual doctorate. It's not exactly something she allowed herself to dream of, particularly when she was homeless and pregnant, but the fact she's made it this far is humbling and amazing, if she does say so herself.
There are many things she's managed to accomplish on her own, but getting to this point in her academic career isn't something she's achieved alone. The sheer idea that she could even dream of becoming an author has a lot to do with her friends actually believing in her and her talent, and she's going to have to find a way to thank them at some point - acknowledgements are always a way to go.
Just, maybe not today.
Today, Quinn needs to take some time for herself and evaluate just what she wants to have happen once all this is over.
And, it's going to end.
It has to end.
Some way or the other, they're going to break up, and then Quinn knows she's going to have to do something.
The second time around, Rachel wakes up alone. It unsettles her in a way that makes her uncomfortable, but she tries to ignore it as she makes a start to her day, doing her best not to read too much into the fact Quinn didn't leave a note or send a text.
It's unlike her, and Rachel doesn't want to read too much into it, but she does. Did she do something while she was tipsy? She can't really recall how she and Quinn ended up in her bed, and she sincerely hopes she didn't say or do something untoward or embarrassing in the middle of the night. That would be mortifying, and Quinn is far too polite to mention otherwise.
Still, she drags herself to the theatre with the intention of shaking off the bad feeling that seems to have crept into her bones. It settles in, threatening to spread, right until the moment she comes face-to-face with Frankie and Jasmine who are both practically vibrating with excitement.
"Did I miss something?" Rachel asks, suddenly sceptical, as she makes her way through the back of the theatre. As the leading lady, she has her own dressing room, but she doesn't really use it beyond storing her things, mainly because she likes to be where the action is.
"Did you miss something?" Frankie asks, scoffing. He glances at Jasmine. "I don't get how she's not more excited about this."
"About what?" Rachel asks.
"About what, she asks," Frankie echoes, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Are we or are we not all going on the best double date tomorrow?"
If she's being honest, Rachel kind of forgot about it. Whoops. "Of course," she says, recovering. "I thought you were referring to something to do with the production."
Frankie gives her a curious look, as if he can tell something is amiss. "Opening night is coming up," he says, giving her some respite. "Are your fathers going to be here?"
"That's the plan," she says, automatically smiling at the thought of them. If there's one way to improve her mood, it's to mention her parents. "They're supposed to fly in for it, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them, especially since I won't be able to get home for Thanksgiving."
Frankie smiles at her.
"What?"
"I just think it's cute that you still call Ohio home," he says.
She blinks. "Well, it is," she says. "It's where I grew up, and it's where my parents are. Until I can build my own family, here, I think it's always going to be."
"Do you think they would ever move out here?" Frankie asks. "I mean, if this is the place you're going to get married and have children and live, do you think they would want to be closer to you?"
"Maybe," Rachel allows. "It's not something we've ever really discussed," she says. "And, I mean, I'm so far away from any of those things happening, so there's no real point."
Frankie gives her a look of disbelief.
"What?"
"You don't really think you're that far from it, do you?" he asks, frowning a little. "I'm sure, given the chance, Quinn would wife you in a heartbeat."
Rachel blinks. Wait, what?
Frankie chuckles. "You always look so surprised when I point out that Quinn very obviously loves you," he teases gently.
"We've - we've been dating for, like, four months," she defends, weak and meek, sufficiently thrown by the sheer idea of, one day, marrying Quinn and having children with her.
Wow.
Okay.
"But you've been friends for longer," Frankie points out. "The transition to romance was natural, wasn't it? You've already got this solid foundation, and you know each other so well already. It doesn't classify as a new relationship, Rachel, not really."
"Frankie," she says, because she really has nothing else.
"I mean, you once mentioned that you might want to move out on your own, remember?" he pushes. "Was that some kind of precursor to moving in with Quinn?"
Rachel's eyes widen. "No," she says. "We're - we're nowhere near that yet, oh my God." Her heart is beating too fast, and she really can't get a handle of her thoughts, because she's now imagining how it would feel to live with Quinn.
She's only got just a taste before, and she's quite sure she could become easily addicted.
No.
It's just that Quinn would probably make a better roommate than Santana does. At least Quinn likes to cuddle.
Which, incidentally, isn't really what typical roommates do, right?
Granted, nothing about her relationship with Quinn has been remotely 'typical.' From the very beginning, they've been existing in some weird standoff, she thinks, constantly hovering around each other, just waiting for things to change.
Is this another one of those moments? Is Rachel willing to take it; embrace it? What does any of it even mean?
Frankie gives her a curious look. "Well, Rach, whether or not you're there is maybe a little irrelevant, because Quinn definitely is."
Rachel is so tempted to ask him to explain further, but they're called to attention before she can get the words out. Elliot has a few changes for them, and Rachel does her best to pay attention to what he's saying.
She makes sure to take note of the changes on her phone, because she's convinced every word the man's said has gone in one ear and come out the other. She's thinking about Quinn and what Frankie is possibly seeing and what life with Quinn could be like.
Rachel thinks she could be happy. She would be, because Quinn makes her happy. Sometimes, without even having to try. Just the mere fact she exists makes Rachel's entire life that bit better.
Much better, if she's going to be honest.
"Did you even hear a word Elliot said?" Jasmine asks, eyeing Rachel curiously, once Elliot has dismissed them to take their places for the start of rehearsal.
"No," Rachel answers honestly.
"What's wrong?"
Rachel doesn't respond, because she has no idea what to say.
Jasmine faces her fully, her eyes a mixture of kindness and curiosity. "Is this about what Frankie was saying?" she asks. "Rachel, he just says things, sometimes. He claims he sees things, but it took him a hundred years to realise I was interested in him."
Rachel just about manages a smile. "It's not just that," she admits, wrapping her arms around herself. There are people all around, casually going over the brief changes, but Rachel feels as if this conversation has shrunk the world to just the two of them.
Jasmine steps closer. "Rachel?" she says. "What is it?"
Rachel sighs. "It's really nothing," she says. "I mean, I think it's nothing, but I can't shake the feeling it's actually something."
Jasmine's brow furrows, clearly confused. "Okay…?" She takes a breath. "Are we talking about Quinn?"
The simple answer is yes, but Rachel thinks they're actually talking about her. Something's gone wrong inside of her.
Or, right.
Just, something is happening, and she's afraid she's going to do something to ruin the most important relationship in her life.
If she hasn't already.
"We've known each other a long time, you know?" Rachel says, almost talking to herself. "Since we were freshmen in high school." She shakes her head. "She was so awful. Terrible, really. The absolute worst. Especially to me. I've never quite understood why."
Jasmine blinks. "She liked you," she offers, suddenly so sure. She took several classes in Psychology in college, and she thinks it's the most obvious answer. It might have been different if Quinn's attention wasn't solely on Rachel, but it was, and that's telling.
Rachel is beginning to suspect there's truth in those words. Back then, at least. Now, she can't be too sure. Quinn would have told her, right? Someone would have. She also likes to think she would have noticed. How do you be best friends with someone and not be able to tell if they like you?
Right?
She's still confused by all of it.
"If that's the case," Rachel says; "then, what's my excuse?"
"What do you mean?"
"Even when she was awful to me, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to be in her orbit," she admits quietly, frowning at her teenage self's behaviour. "I tried so hard to be her friend, putting myself out there, knowing it would probably blow up in my face every time. Why would I keep doing that?"
Jasmine's smile is sympathetic. "You liked her, too," she says. "You just didn't recognise it for what it was." Her smile grows. "It's kind of the perfect love story."
If any of it were real.
Rachel sighs heavily, wondering if any of this pondering is even worth it. Quinn is putting on a show, surely. The same way Rachel is.
Right?
If she were to ask Jasmine, she knows exactly which answer she'll get.
But, what if she asks herself?
Quinn: So, I'm guessing a trip to the park probably requires something casual, right? Jeans and a shirt? Any colour preference? (Are we going to be one of those couples who colour-coordinate?)
Rachel reads the text several times, oddly relieved that Quinn sounds so... normal. They barely spoke the day before, Quinn citing a lot of work, but Rachel wakes to this message on Saturday morning, and everything feels right with the world.
If she finds it weird that her mood is so heavily linked to the amount she and Quinn actually communicate, she doesn't think about it too much. She'll have time to dissect it once the date is over. She's made decisions, she thinks.
Well, she's been trying to make them for a while.
Rachel: Something casual, indeed. Jasmine made sure to reiterate that part when I was leaving the theatre. (I'm sure you're going to look great in whatever you wear, Quinn.)
Quinn: Not really an answer to my question, but thank you.
Rachel: Green, maybe.
Quinn: Are you going to be wearing green?
Rachel: No, but I like the way the colour brings out your eyes.
Quinn: Doesn't distract from them, huh?
Rachel flushes instantly, her heart stuttering, because she actually managed to forget Quinn even knew about the corsage she helped Finn choose for her their junior year of high school. Well, help is inaccurate. He used her 'suggestion' exactly as she gave it, even quoting her… or, rather, claiming it as his own.
Rachel doesn't really remember how the truth all came out, but she does know there was definitely alcohol involved. A lot of it. She can't even remember how they got to talking about their junior Prom, but she remembers feeling wistful and nostalgic, which is weird because Quinn slapped her.
Oh.
That's why they were talking about it. Quinn was apologising, again, and Rachel wished she would stop. She forgave her a long time ago, and she needed Quinn to forgive herself. To this day, Rachel's unsure if she actually has.
Rachel: As long as you're aware, Fabray.
Quinn: Kurt already gave me an actual colour palette, to make sure I never wear anything that clashes with my skin tone. It's some serious stuff.
Rachel: He has always been a little extra about his fashion. (You're probably going to listen extra hard for when you're a famous published author.)
Quinn: Don't even remind me. If it all goes well, my entire life is going to change.
Rachel: WHEN it all goes well, you mean to say.
She can just imagine the way Quinn is rolling her eyes, as soon as she sends it. She's always been Quinn's biggest believer, and vice versa. There were many a phone call placed in the dead of night to New Haven, Rachel panicking over not being cut out for any of this.
Gosh.
No wonder Julia hates her.
Quinn: And that's my cue to tell you I'm going to catch a nap now. I'm sure I'm going to need all the energy in the world to keep up with you children.
Rachel: Says the youngest one of all of us.
Quinn: Hush, you. I'm sleeping.
Rachel is smiling like a complete fool when she sends her last text, her heart beating a little erratically.
Rachel: Enjoy your nap, Q. I can't wait to see you! Xx
"You look amazing," Rachel says the moment she spots Quinn waiting near the fountain as she said she would be, the words almost automatic at this point.
Quinn blushes, her gaze dropping to take in her own outfit. "Oh, well, thanks," she says. "You don't look too bad yourself."
"Does it meet your 'casual' approval?"
"It's a little on the smart side, but it'll do," Quinn says, grinning. She's feeling a lot better after her night of mental and emotional freakouts. She's going to have to tell Rachel how she feels, she knows, and she has to do it soon.
On Sunday.
Shit, that's tomorrow.
Still.
She's already discussed it with Kurt, endlessly. She's been putting it off for long enough. Is it all wishful thinking? Does she even want Rachel to like her back? Would the brunette be able to handle the pressure of that? Could she be in a relationship with Quinn?
With a woman?
Quinn knows Rachel would let her down easy. It's not really that she's worried about. As much as the rejection would hurt - and, God, it would hurt beyond anything - she thinks she could find a way to handle it. Eventually. She's liked straight girls before and managed to get over it.
The problem, she knows, is Rachel herself. Rachel would hurt, because she would know she was hurting Quinn - that she has been hurting her - and that's what Quinn has been trying to avoid from the very beginning. She doesn't want to cause Rachel pain for being unable to give her what she just can't.
Quinn thinks she might actually need to take Jordan up on his suggestion of a semester abroad after this upcoming disaster.
And, the thing is, it's always going to be a disaster. Getting involved in a scheme such as this with the best friend you've loved for years is always going to end with someone getting her heart broken.
It's almost inevitable it's going to be Quinn, which is why it's not a surprise when it does happen.
Just, well, first she's going on a double date with the woman of her dreams and, maybe, she's going to allow herself to feel it for the last time. It's probable they won't talk for a while after this, so Quinn intends to soak up as much Rachel as she can.
Maybe Rachel can sense the decision in her, because Rachel looks a little bemused.
"Are you okay?"
Quinn just smiles, carefully drawing the shorter woman into a gentle embrace and holding on for much longer than is strictly appropriate for two friends who are pretending to be more… especially when there's nobody around to see them.
It takes a moment for Rachel to settle, but she does, wrapping her own arms around Quinn's waist. She can sense something different about her best friend, and she's unsure what to make of it. It's something heavy, suffocating in a way Quinn hasn't been since high school, maybe. Since Julia.
Just, since.
"Quinn," Rachel's mouth says, but no sound comes out.
Quinn must feel it, though, because she pulls back just enough to look at Rachel's face; to look into her eyes.
Rachel can't be sure what she sees in those hazel eyes, but it merely proves that something is happening with Quinn. For a terrifying moment, she thinks Quinn has figured her out, and she's trying to find a way to tell Rachel that she's mistaken. Everything she's been feeling is just part of the role she's been playing.
It's unsurprising that Quinn would be the one to make sense of everything.
But, well, Quinn says nothing. She just continues to stare at Rachel, as if she's somehow memorising her face, taking in every blemish and laugh-line.
"Quinn," she says again, this time audible. "Quinn, what - "
"There they are!"
Quinn doesn't exactly pull away at the sound of Frankie's voice. Her facial expression doesn't change at all, but Rachel still feels a sudden disconnect. Now, Quinn is putting on a show.
So, why does her face still look like that?
She still looks like a devoted girlfriend, who's hopelessly in love.
Whatever questions Rachel has are sidetracked by the arrival of Frankie and Jasmine, who each give them both hugs, forcing Quinn to release her. She's almost thankful for it, given the intensity of that previous moment. She uses the brief respite to calm her racing heart, carefully avoiding Jasmine's concerned eyes.
It's okay.
Everything is okay.
And, for the most part, everything is. Quinn seems to stop acting weird, easily slipping into her role and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Rachel closes her eyes when a kiss is pressed to her temple, and she feels a weight shift within her.
She wants this.
She's sure of it.
Frankie and Jasmine have taken care of the picnic blanket and the food - Quinn made sure to remind them of Rachel's veganism in the quick Chat Group Jasmine made to make the necessary plans - and they don't have to wait too long in line to get their tickets. Quinn pays for Rachel's, Frankie pays for Jasmine's, and then the two of them grin at each other and bump shoulders.
Rachel thinks it's cute.
It also troubles her slightly, because she's never given much thought to the gender roles of a same-sex relationship. Why wouldn't she be the one paying? Would she, on another occasion? Would Quinn let her?
Jasmine slips her arm into hers as they walk, her eyes tracking Quinn as she walks with Frankie in front of them, their own eyes trying to find the perfect spot in the rapidly-filling space marked for this little event.
"Are you feeling better?" Jasmine asks, her voice low.
Rachel furrows her brow, slightly confused by the question.
"After yesterday," Jasmine clarifies. "You seemed… distracted. Said some things; some worrying things."
Rachel puffs out a breath. "I'm okay," she says, injecting as much confidence into her voice as she can muster. "Everything's okay."
Jasmine doesn't look entirely convinced, but she doesn't question her further. That's probably because Frankie suddenly calls out for them, claiming he's found the perfect spot for them to make out without making the other patrons uncomfortable. Jasmine lets out a laugh at his antics, and Rachel can't mistake the pure affection she sees in the woman's facial expression.
"And what about our comfort?" Rachel asks him, grinning.
"You'll be too busy making out with Quinn, of course," he shoots back, far too easily, and Rachel flushes instantly. The reaction is unstoppable, and Quinn doesn't look to be faring any better. Her own cheeks are a shade of red as she playfully punches Frankie's shoulder.
"Obviously, we're more considerate than you two are," Quinn says, laughing.
"Obviously," Frankie echoes. "You'd probably break up couples if you were to get it on in front of them."
"Oh, my God," Rachel gasps. "Jas, control your man."
Jasmine just laughs. "It'd be so hot."
Frankie punches a fist into the air. "She gets me," he says happily. "We were totally made for each other."
Jasmine abandons Rachel's side and trots over to Frankie to kiss him.
Quinn shakes her head as she makes the move the other way, carefully sliding an arm around Rachel's waist and leaning in to hide her face in the brunette's hair. "I feel like I'm on fire," she whispers.
Rachel giggles softly, her left hand moving, somewhat without her conscious brain, to settle in the back pocket of Quinn's jeans. She realises far too late, from the surprised gasp Quinn lets out, that she's basically touching Quinn's ass.
Okay.
Wow, okay.
Deep breaths, Berry.
Rachel's heart is beating far too fast and her own breathing is unsteady, which all gets even worse when Quinn doesn't pull away. If anything, she curls even further into Rachel, inhaling deeply, and Rachel's almost sure she feels a brushing of lips against the skin of her neck.
"Oi," Frankie suddenly says. "Save it for when the sun sets. There are children around."
Quinn pulls away, looking flushed, and Rachel knows she's in trouble. Something is happening. She can feel it. It's in the air, existing between them.
Something.
Once they reach their spot, Frankie unfolds the large picnic blanket Jasmine has tucked under her arm, and the four of them settle down and get comfortable. Rachel sits impossibly close to Quinn - practically on top of her - and Quinn's arm wraps around her waist, fingers resting on her hip.
Quinn is warm to the touch, and Rachel finds herself leaning against her, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of her chest and smell her alluring scent. It's a mixture of apples, cinnamon and something so uniquely Quinn that Rachel thinks she's a little obsessed.
The conversation is easy, flowing around and among them. Frankie seems to have grown into himself a little more, and Rachel credits Jasmine for allowing him that opportunity. Jasmine spends most of her time rolling her eyes, laughing or carefully explaining that Frankie doesn't actually mean that. It's cute.
When Quinn talks, everyone listens. It's just something about her. She commands attention without even trying, her words purposeful and her voice elegant. Rachel keeps her head turned to look at her, even though they're sitting so close. If she shifts slightly, her lips would brush Quinn's chin, and she can feel Quinn's warm breath against her cheeks.
Whatever's happening, Quinn isn't shying away from it either, and Rachel isn't sure what to make of that. Is she just maintaining her role, or is she feeling that something more building in the air between them as well?
When the first film begins, a certain hush falls over everyone in attendance, and Rachel feels Quinn hold on her shift, drawing her closer. She didn't think it was even possible.
Quinn rests her chin on her shoulder, and Rachel rests her own head against Quinn's, feeling her entire body relax. She's just Rachel, and this is just Quinn. They do this kind of thing all the time.
She almost has herself convinced when Quinn shifts again, absently nuzzling her cheek and releasing a puff of air that sends a shiver right down Rachel's spine.
Okay.
It takes Rachel another minute to realise Quinn isn't even watching the screen, her eyes closed, and she finds herself smiling. "You're missing the best part," she whispers.
"You're the best part," Quinn murmurs, her chest vibrating against Rachel's arm.
Rachel leans into her even more, not even using her own body to support herself. She can't remember ever being this close to Quinn before, and she just knows disengaging is going to be torturous. And cold.
"You're very warm," Rachel tells her.
"So are you," Quinn says. "Why do you think I'm practically crawling into your skin?"
Rachel blinks.
Oh.
It's because she's warm.
"You also smell really good," Quinn says quietly. "Like, if we weren't in public and it wouldn't be considered too weird, I would probably check to see if you taste as good as you smell."
Rachel squeaks. She actually squeaks. In surprise, but also something else that sparks in her belly. Wow. Okay.
"You would probably be arrested for cannibalism," Rachel finds herself saying.
"Mm," Quinn hums against her skin. "I am kind of hungry."
Rachel doesn't even know why she blushes as hard as she does, but it spreads from her cheeks right down her neck, and none of it is helped by the wink Jasmine sends her. She doesn't even know what's happening right now, but she's intending to enjoy every second of it.
It's Frankie who makes the first foray into the picnic basket he and Jasmine have brought with them. Rachel can't help her laughter when she remembers the replies when Quinn made sure to remind them about Rachel's vegan diet, receiving an oh my god, we KNOW from Frankie and an exasperated I think I'm going to kill a puppy if you tell me one more time from Jasmine.
Their friends are so dramatic.
"Mm, food," Frankie says, rubbing his hands together. "I did research, you know, on what the best picnic foods are, and the number one item on, like, all the lists was chocolate-covered strawberries." He grins with mischief. "They're also an aphrodisiac, did you know that?"
Jasmine laughs, and then says, "I don't think they need it," with the kind of voice that has the power to pull Rachel from any faraway thoughts. "They can't keep their hands off each other, already."
It's the moment Rachel becomes acutely aware of where her own hands have settled. She can feel Quinn's one at her right hip and the other curved around her left elbow.
But hers.
Well.
The right is casual as it rests over Quinn's on her own hip.
The left, though, is pressed against the inside of Quinn's right thigh, her fingers touching parts too intimate for just friends.
In alarm, she tenses, and Quinn lets out a rushed breath that could be mistaken for a moan, and Rachel's breath catches.
Okay.
She's too scared to look at Quinn, but she forces her gaze up and away from her hand, only to come face-to-face with Quinn's eyes, looking darker than Rachel has ever seen them. It's like a dream - she doesn't think she even belongs to her own body in this moment - having Quinn look at her like that.
It's maybe the only way she can explain what she does next. Maybe. Her brain shuts down, or her body just overrides everything, because Rachel does the disastrous thing and closes the minimal gap between them, pressing her lips to Quinn's with minimal thought.
This kiss is different to other the two they've shared before, in the fact that it's not chaste. It's not a simple peck, neither one of them is drunk and neither of them is reeling emotionally from encountering an ex.
No.
This is a kiss that Rachel wants more than anything, and she takes it, momentarily surprised when Quinn willingly gives.
It's heady and intoxicating, actually kissing Quinn, and she hums low in her throat as she opens her mouth. Quinn tastes sweet, like the wine she's been nursing since they arrived, and Rachel automatically deepens the kiss in search of more.
Her heart is beating wildly in her chest, her eyes closed and her mind wonderfully blank. She's just kissing Quinn, and it's everything and more than she could have imagined. Her left hand tightens on Quinn's thigh just as hers squeezes at her hip, and Rachel has a fleeting thought that this might all be indecent for public viewing, but she doesn't care.
It's really simple. She's never felt this way when simply just kissing someone before, and she can't decide which reason for that makes her the least uncomfortable. Is it because it's Quinn? Is it because Quinn is a woman?
"God," Quinn murmurs, her right hand moving up Rachel's side and her tongue licking into Rachel's mouth.
Rachel feels heat rising up her neck. Just kissing has never made her feel this hot and out of control before, and she never wants this to end.
But, it does.
Frankie says, "Oi, we're supposed to be eating the food now, not each other," and the two women immediately break apart, as if they're just coming back to their senses.
Quinn just stares, wide-eyed, and Rachel stares back, her expression one of wonder and disbelief.
"Rachel," Quinn says, her voice coming out a little breathless. "What are - "
Rachel kisses her again, just once, to keep her from asking the question for which they're both not ready to hear out loud. "Not now," she murmurs. "Later."
"Later," Quinn echoes with a nod, and, somehow, they manage to get through dinner and the next movie without spontaneously combusting.
Rachel is acutely aware of every place they're touching, Quinn growing slightly bolder as she settles back into the evening after their kiss. She converses easily with Frankie and Jasmine, and Rachel finds herself staring at her several times, half in awe and half in wonder.
Rachel has always found her stunning, but what she's feeling in this moment is something beyond anything she's ever thought or felt before. It's more than aesthetics, of course, and Quinn's beauty is found in the person she now allows herself to be.
If Quinn is uncomfortable with all the staring or touching, she doesn't show it. If anything, she stares and touches right back, a faint blush permanently on her cheeks. They have a lot to talk about, definitely, and Rachel makes a silent vow they're going to get to that dangerously overdue conversation tonight.
Well.
She has good intentions, at least.
It's just - well -
Quinn ends up pressed up against the wall before her apartment door has even closed behind them. She watches, dazed, as Rachel reaches blindly to close it with the palm of her hand. Then, without missing a beat, her mouth is on Quinn's neck, tongue trailing up from her shoulder to her jaw.
It feels like a completely out-of-body experience, Quinn reacting out of instinct. Rachel could ask her anything in this moment, and she would willingly give it. Her breathing is stuttered and shaky as she pushes her hands under Rachel's shirt and presses her palms against Rachel's hot skin. It burns in the absolute best way, allowing Quinn to settle in this reality.
This is really happening. She's not just imagining it.
Rachel's mouth moves lower again, teeth gently nipping and grazing at her skin. Not hard enough to leave marks but just enough that Quinn can feel the pressure right down to her toes, curling them in her shoes. Frankly, she's not sure if it's the wine or Rachel's touch clouding her brain, making her feel almost dizzy, but she feels lost. Unmoored and floating aimlessly.
What she knows is that she just wants to touch Rachel, and she wants Rachel to touch her right back. Now that she's felt this, she's never going to let it go. Now that she knows what it's like, there's nobody else who could ever compare.
Rachel pauses for a second, moving her mouth away from Quinn's neck to look into her eyes. What she sees, Quinn wouldn't know, but Quinn would really like Rachel to resume what she was doing just moments ago.
So, Quinn pulls her in again, their mouths meeting in the type of kiss that makes Quinn feel lightheaded. This kiss is rushed and desperate, messy and firm and breathless and never-ending. Quinn's fingers run up Rachel's back, drawing her closer, needing to feel every part of her.
At the movement, Quinn can hear Rachel groan, can feel her shiver It makes her press tighter to her, though there's barely any space left between the fronts of their bodies. Rachel's fingers curl around her hips, nails digging in, and Quinn knows there's no coming back from this. She wouldn't even want to. This is everything she's ever wanted.
Rachel has to know it. Quinn can't keep kissing her without them both knowing exactly what this means for her, and for them. Which is really the moment Quinn - sweet, adoring Quinn, who's loved Rachel for more years than she could ever say - says the one thing that's been running through her head since -
Well, since forever.
Because, Quinn, whose brain is slowly turning to mush under Rachel's touch, pulls her mouth away and says the seven words that absolutely ruin it all.
"God, I've wanted this for so long."
They come tumbling out of her mouth, completely breathless, and Rachel freezes, all movement ceasing.
Quinn takes a moment to catch on that she's stopped, and she pulls back, looking so adorably confused that Rachel might actually cry.
She's going to cry, anyway.
"Rach?" Quinn questions softly; so, so softly, as if she's terrified of Rachel's response. As if she already knows this euphoric moment is about to turn into her worst nightmare.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing Rachel says, and Quinn flinches. "I thought I could do this, but - " she stops, unsure how to go on breaking the heart of the woman right in front of her, who's been ready and willing for much longer than Rachel ever thought.
She can't.
She just can't.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says again, and then she's gone.