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Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

F/F

Glee

Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Quinn Fabray
Rachel Berry

High School
Friends With Benefits
Friends to Lovers
English

Please
ForForever19

Summary:

'The problem is, well, she doesn't really think about how exactly she's going to do that until her mouth
says, "Maybe I can help."' OR Quinn is a gay disaster, who needs to learn how to communicate.
Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright
infringement intended.

AN: This diverges from canon, mainly, when Rachel doesn't answer yes to Finn's proposal, and they
rather go on something of a Break.

Please

It starts on a Wednesday, when they're supposed to be doing homework, but are doing everything but.
Quinn Fabray is sitting slumped in her own desk chair, legs propped up on the desktop and laptop
resting on her thighs as she shuffles through her music for the perfect song. Rachel Berry, meanwhile, is
spread out on Quinn's bed, her pen and notebook abandoned in favour of moaning at the world as a whole.
"I hate Functions," Rachel complains, rolling onto her back and staring at Quinn's ceiling as if it holds
all the answers to the Universe.
Quinn would have to agree with her. Functions are her least favourite part of Math. She prefers
Trigonometry and Calculus, but they've finished those sections for the time being, and now they're just faced
with a different torture.
"Please make it stop," Rachel says, ever so dramatic.
It's something Quinn has relearned about her during the past few weeks they've actually tried to be
friends. She always knew Rachel had dramatic flare, but her dramatics are seriously bone deep, and Quinn
finds it oddly endearing.
Like now, Quinn just chuckles, double-clicking on a song and filling the room with Boy In Space's 7Up
through her Bluetooth speaker. "Sorry," she says; "can't help you there."
"You're not even trying," Rachel accuses, rubbing at her eyes. "I don't even need Math. I'm going to
perform on Broadway. Who cares if it's a parabola or - or one of the other thingies?"
"Wow," Quinn muses. "Even you know the difference between a parabola and a hyperbola, don't even
lie."
"Well, I don't care," Rachel declares, pouting in annoyance.
Quinn glances at her, frowning slightly. "What's up with you?" she asks. "You're being more crabby than
usual."
Rachel huffs. "I'm not... crabby."
Quinn sets her laptop on the desk and drops her feet, turning her chair to face Rachel on the bed. "You're
definitely something," Quinn points out. "You were especially snappy in Glee today, and you never avoid
your homework this much. What's going on with you?"
Rachel doesn't immediately respond, and Quinn gets to her feet, crossing the room to sit on the edge of
her bed, just barely touching Rachel's prone body.
"Rachel," Quinn tries. "Tell me what's wrong."
Rachel sighs heavily. "It's stupid," she finally says. "And embarrassing."
"Tell me anyway."
"You're going to laugh."
Quinn pinches her leg, making her squeak. "Tell me."
Rachel can barely look her way. "I just - I guess, you know, since Finn and I are... taking this break or
whatever it is we're doing, I haven't..." she trails off awkwardly, her cheeks flushing at whatever she's trying
to imply.
It takes a moment for Quinn to click, and then she's laughing.
Rachel glares at her. "You said you weren't going to laugh."
"I said no such thing," Quinn says around her laughter. "Oh my gosh, Rach. Are you seriously crabby
because you haven't got laid... in like a month?"
Rachel hits her again. "Stop laughing," she pouts. "It's not just that, okay? And it's not my fault I'm
stressed out, okay? College and Regionals and just school... it's all just a lot, and I'm tense, and I can't seem
to be able to - "
"To what?"
Rachel closes her eyes. "I actually can't believe we're talking about this."
Quinn tilts her head to the side, trying to read the tension in Rachel's body for what it is. She studies her
closely, noting the deepening of her blush. Oh. Oh. "Are we talking about masturbation?"
"Oh, my God."
Quinn chuckles, shaking Rachel's arm to get her to open her eyes. "We are," she says, sounding
positively delighted. "I never thought I'd see the day you and I could talk about this in a totally unironic way."
"Believe me, you're not the only one," Rachel mutters, finally opening her eyes. "But, I mean, we're
friends now, and friends talk about these things, right?"
Quinn hums.
Rachel shifts into a sitting position, her back against Quinn's headboard. "You are okay, right? This
 doesn't make you uncomfortable? I'm aware masturbating is something of a sin - "
"I'm okay," Quinn assures her. "I don't really view it a sin anymore. Not after Santana practically forced
me to, uh, try it, this one day when I snapped at them a little too hard during practice."
"Whoa."
"So, I'm not against it," Quinn concludes, not wanting to get into that entire fiasco. "Do you want to tell
me what you were actually going to say?"
"Not really."
Quinn pats her leg. "It can't be that bad."
"It's not," Rachel assures. "Just, you know, I don't really want the whole world to know... I can't seem
to... get there."
Quinn blinks, once and then twice. "Oh."
"My God," Rachel finishes. "I knew this was going to be weird." She blows out a breath, annoyed. "I
mean, come on, okay? It's not like I don't know what I'm doing. I'm eighteen years old. I've been doing this
for years already, but, God, lately... nothing seems to be working, and I'm tense and I just - I need someone to
understand."
"Hey," Quinn soothes, fingers gentle against her arm. "I'm here, okay? I'm trying to understand. It must
suck, I know, but, um, maybe there's something we can do?"
"Like what?"
"Maybe you can't... get there, because you can't quite bring yourself to... relax. Like, you've already got
so much going on that your body struggles to get there, mainly because your brain won't?"
"That doesn't really help," Rachel complains. "How do I even fix that? It'll just stress me out even
more."
"Maybe you just have to think about things that don't stress you out," Quinn suggests. "Like puppies or
something."
"Or something," she sighs.
Quinn clears her throat, and then very quietly asks, "Have you considered using... porn?"
Rachel thinks she would die of mortification if Quinn's own cheeks weren't so red. It's actually kind of
cute the way she's so determined to help, especially since the topic obviously makes her squirm. "I tried,
once," Rachel confesses. "It helps me get... aroused, but can't get me... there."
"Damn."
Like nobody knows.
Rachel tilts her head back, resting it against the wall. "It's okay, Quinn," she finally concedes. "I'll just
wake up earlier tomorrow and exercise a bit harder to try to get rid of the tension in my body. It's nobody's
fault I'm so cranky, and, you're right; I shouldn't be taking it out on other people." She sounds so sad;
defeated in a way that makes Quinn's heart twist in sympathy.
Quinn knows what it's like to be so tense that you can feel little else. She's the daughter of Russell
Fabray. She's very aware of what it feels like to deny herself pleasure, and it's not something she wants for
anyone else. Least of all Rachel Berry.
On top of that, Rachel is Rachel, and the last thing anyone needs is for her to be any more stressed out
than she already is. If what she needs is to... let loose, then Quinn is going to try to help.
The problem is, well, she doesn't really think about how exactly she's going to do that until her mouth
says, "Maybe I can help."
Rachel's eyes snap open, and Quinn panics that she's said the wrong thing - which, let's face it, she
definitely has. "What?"
Quinn stutters awkwardly, a hand coming to scratch at the back of her neck. "Uh, I don't know," she
forces out. "I just - I guess, you know, I could help."
Rachel just stares at her in confusion, because, in all seriousness, how is Quinn supposed to help with
:
 this particular problem? "Uh, how?" Rachel asks the golden question.
Quinn blinks. "Um, well, maybe I could... tell you what works for me," she suggests, breathing out. "I
mean, people do that, right? Girls, who are friends. They help each other out with... techniques, right?"
Rachel continues to stare. "I don't know," she admits. "You're kind of the first girl friend I've had. Kurt
wouldn't be caught dead talking about this stuff."
Quinn nods around a wince. "And I tend to block out anything Santana or Brittany says about this kind
of thing... for obvious reasons."
"Poor baby Quinn," Rachel coos. "Are your ears too young?"
"They're scarred, Rachel," Quinn complains, pouting adorably.
Rachel giggles, and then grows quiet, sobering at whatever Quinn is suggesting. Well. "Wait, Quinn,"
she says; "are you suggesting that you... talk me through it... while I do it?"
Quinn looks away, because, whoa, nope, that was not what she was suggesting at all. Or was it? She
doesn't even know. "Is that weird?" she asks in lieu of an actual response.
Rachel frowns. "I don't know," she says. "I've never actually done it... with someone. Not even just in
the room."
"It's normally a private thing," Quinn says, understanding. "I haven't either, to be honest. I think it'd be
weird."
"Do you really?"
Quinn hesitates. "I guess it depends on the person," she concedes.
"Oh, I'd choose you over anyone else, hands down," Rachel says immediately, eyes a little wide. "Gosh,
can you imagine if it was Noah?"
Quinn grimaces. "I'm trying not to," she says, dropping her gaze.
Rachel runs her fingers along Quinn's forearm, soothing some lingering bitterness over the first and only
time Quinn has had sex. "Sorry," Rachel says unnecessarily.
Quinn shrugs, shaking off the memory. "Anyway," she says; "is this something you want to try? Because
it'd probably be safer for the masses if you weren't so tightly wound?"
"Ah, so your offer is purely for selfish reasons, huh?"
"I don't actually want you to rip out my vocal chords and feed them to me, if I go sharp again."
Rachel winces. "I totally said that, didn't I?"
"Artie is legitimately terrified of you."
"As he should be."
Quinn laughs. "Even Santana looked a little nervous."
"Hah," Rachel exclaims; "finally."
"It was your plan all along."
"Oh, totally," Rachel drawls, tone thick with sarcasm. "I made sure to become sexually frustrated, just to
get under Santana's skin."
"Evil, I tell you."
Rachel's smile is wide as her gaze meets Quinn's. "Are we really doing this?"
"Only if you're comfortable," Quinn assures her.
"What about you?" Rachel counters. "What about your comfort?"
Quinn's brow creases, as if she hasn't once considered herself in this situation. "Oh, well, I'm sure I'll be
fine," she says. "I just want to help you. Will you let me?"
Rachel studies her for another moment, before she nods slowly, granting Quinn some silent permission.
Now, Quinn knows very little about how this is all supposed to work, but she gets moving, anyway,
getting to her feet and opting not to look at Rachel for now. If she's going to talk Rachel through what she
would do, then she should probably do what she would do.
Quinn locks the door, first. Then she dims the lights. Changes the music to something slow, but still with
:
 an audible beat - for Rachel's fingers to follow. She clears the bed of all of their books, setting them on the
floor and out of sight.
When there's nothing else to do to prepare, she hovers awkwardly for a few moments before she settles
on the edge of her bed once again.
"Shift to the middle," Quinn instructs gently, and Rachel complies. "So, uh, I'm going to ask a few
questions before we get started, okay?"
"Okay."
Quinn clears her throat. "Um, do you know which parts of your body are especially sensitive?" she asks,
and she is blushing darkly.
Rachel is faring no better, her cheeks aflame. "Um, I think so."
"So, we'll target those areas?"
Rachel nods. "Sounds like a plan."
"Are you vocal?"
"What?"
"Does hearing yourself help?" Quinn asks. "Because, I know my mother isn't actually home right now,
but I'd rather be prepared if, you know, it actually happens."
"I can be quiet."
"I don't want you to be."
Rachel freezes.
"I just mean, uh, that you shouldn't restrain yourself, okay?" She pauses. "Unless you're into that."
"Oh, my God."
Quinn laughs. "You totally are, aren't you?"
"Shut up."
Quinn is still smiling when she asks, "are you okay with my looking?" in a voice that trembles slightly.
"So I know what's happening. So I can figure out if it's working or not, and what needs to change to make
sure it does."
Rachel is quiet for long, long seconds, before she nods. "It's okay," she says. "I trust you."
Quinn's chest aches at the confession. It feels heavier, somehow, as if Rachel is telling her something
else, and Quinn feels burdened with a truth she hasn't quite realised yet.
"Quinn," Rachel says. "It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."
And, it almost feels as if Rachel knows whatever disjoint suddenly exists within Quinn, even without
Quinn having to work it out for herself. She always has just been able to figure Quinn out, knowing far more
than the blonde is strictly comfortable with.
"It's okay," Rachel says again, and it's all the prompting Quinn needs.
"Lie back," Quinn says, her tone shifting slightly. Her voice isn't usually that raspy, and her own heart
stutters at the very real realisation that she's basically about to talk Rachel - Rachel Berry - through
pleasuring herself.
Put Quinn in another room and hand her a cell, and they'd basically be having phone sex, but Quinn is
trying not to think about that.
Rachel shifts on the bed until she's comfortably lying against Quinn's many pillows. She hums softly
once she's in position.
"Close your eyes," Quinn says softly. "I want you to think about something you know will get you hot."
Her own go-to isn't something she would willingly admit out loud, so she's definitely not going to ask Rachel
to do the same.
Rachel doesn't move for a little while, but Quinn catches sight of a small smile at some point, and she
reasons they're good to go.
"Slowly and without purpose, just slide your hands over your body," Quinn says, feeling a little
:
 awkward as she hands out the instruction. "Aim for the parts you like the most. Just how you would normally
start out."
Rachel hesitates for a moment, and then slides her right hand along the length of her right side,
involuntarily making a sound Quinn thinks is illegal. Quinn can just watch in slight fascination as both her
hands now drag along her body, never quite lingering, but enough to wake all the necessary nerve endings.
"Slide your hands under," Quinn says. "Do you want to take off your shirt?"
Rachel nods, and then does just that, pulling it off with little hesitance. She's not wearing a bra, and
Quinn is awarded with the sight of Rachel's bare upper body.
She was never ready.
Quinn blinks a few times. "Are your breasts sensitive?" she asks.
"Sometimes."
"Your nipples don't do anything for you?"
Rachel just groans, her hands automatically cupping her breasts, fingers pinching. It is completely
absorbing being able to watch Rachel play with her own body and make all sorts of sounds in response, and
Quinn cannot possibly bring herself to look away.
This is unexpected.
Quinn is too busy trying not to think about anything inappropriate when Rachel's right hand skims the
waistband of her pyjama pants, and her eyes zero in on the soft skin there.
She's teasing herself.
"I - I usually don't waste any time," Quinn confesses quietly. "I go straight for my - " she stops quite
suddenly, the word getting stuck in her throat. She clears it. "My clit," she says, and Rachel lets out a moan
that is borderline indecent. "Slide down your pants."
Rachel immediately complies, both hands tugging at her trousers as her hips lift up.
"And your panties," Quinn adds, her own heart racing.
Rachel opens her eyes, as if to gauge how Quinn feels about the way things are going, and Quinn forces
herself to appear as unaffected as she can manage. She's fine.
This is all just fine.
All she wants to do is help.
Rachel must see something on her face, because both garments are eventually pushed down her legs,
and she's suddenly bare for Quinn to see. Quinn isn't even surprised that everything is clean and neatly
trimmed, all a little slick with lingering arousal.
Frankly, Quinn is bewitched. She's never actually seen it from this position, and she thinks she might
actually like to explore further... at another time. Maybe.
What a thought.
Quinn licks her lips. "Just your fingertips," she says; "around your clit. Not quite touching."
Rachel does as she's told, suddenly very good at following instructions. Her legs spread a little, and
Quinn stares at the apex of her thighs as if it holds the answers to the Universe.
It takes a little whine from Rachel for Quinn to focus on why they're doing this at all. "Uh, you can
touch now," she says. "Circle and - " she pauses. "Pinch? Does that work for you?"
Rachel answers with a pleasurable groan.
Quinn grins. "Move your fingers along - yes, just like that. Spread it." Quinn wonders is this should be
more weird than it is, but she's focused now, and they have a destination in mind. She watches carefully as
Rachel works herself up, stimulating her clit until she's squirming.
"Do you normally go inside?" Quinn asks, which is a question she never thought she would ever be
asking of Rachel Berry.
"Sometimes," Rachel gasps, her forefinger just teasing her entrance. "It doesn't - I don't - "
"Just try," Quinn suggests. "If it's not working, well try something else."
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 Rachel breathes deeply, and then slides a single finger inside, the digit disappearing completely. Her
body arches at the intrusion.
"Back out, slowly," Quinn says, and Rachel quickly establishes a rhythm. "Can you try a second finger?"
A second quickly joins the first, and Quinn can hear the change in Rachel's breathing; the way the moans
escape her lips. It is the most amazing thing she has ever seen or heard, and she's actually given birth.
Rachel's hand moves steadily, but Quinn can tell she's going to need more.
"Use your thumb on your clit," she instructs. "And curl your fingers on the way out. Touch your walls."
She audibly swallows, the sounds starting to get to her in a way she probably wouldn't admit. Rachel sounds
slick and wet and glorious, and Quinn is surprised by her own thoughts.
"Just like that," Quinn urges on. "You can go faster."
Rachel does, and Quinn watches in captivation as her breathing changes, her moans get louder and her
limbs start to shake. She's close, Quinn can tell.
"God," Rachel groans, her head thrown back. "Al - most."
Quinn is at a loss as to how to get her right over the edge, and she unconsciously leans closer, wondering
if she needs to tell Rachel to change the angle. Before she can say anything, though, Rachel jerks a little,
which surprises Quinn and she teeters forward, her hand reaching out to stop herself from falling right over
and landing on Rachel's thigh.
Rachel is coming a beat later, and Quinn snaps her hand away as if she's just been burned. Rachel's
orgasm hits, and her body shakes from the force of it, a guttural sound escaping her throat to signify just how
good it is.
And then it's over, Rachel's body twitching a few times, before she collapses, naked and spent and
flushed and perfect.
Quinn doesn't move until Rachel does. She gathers herself and her clothes and goes into the bathroom.
The door remains open as she washes her hands and redresses, and Quinn stares long and hard at the damp
stain on her comforter. It's really the only proof any of it even happened by the time Rachel comes back out,
looking surprisingly put together.
Rachel squeezes Quinn's shoulder when she approaches and says, "We should go to bed," and Quinn
agrees.
It's once they're safely wrapped in Quinn's warm duvet with Rachel's scent lingering in the air that the
brunette says, "thank you," very quietly.
Quinn smiles into the darkness. "Did I tell you I could help or what?" she says, her tone light, if also a
little pleased with herself.
Rachel laughs softly, the sound raspy. "You're a regular old stud, Fabray."
"Don't you forget it."
Rachel yawns. "As if I could."

It is not awkward.
Which is maybe the weirdest part. Quinn wakes in the morning, Rachel sprawled out beside her, and
she's sure that very little has actually changed between them. She's not sure it'll ever happen again, but it's
happened once, and that is a success all in itself.
Quinn is possibly even a little smug, but that's an entire can of worms she's not ready to open. If ever she
will be.
With a sigh, Quinn rolls out of bed, ready to face the day. It's not awkward, she tells herself again, and,
when Rachel finally wakes up, it's merely proven. Rachel smiles sleepily at her, squeezes her arm, and then
disappears into the bathroom.
It is not awkward.
They eat breakfast together, Quinn's mom still asleep, and then Rachel goes home for a shower, change
:
 and check-in with her fathers, while Quinn goes to school, unfortunately having to suffer through a weekly
meeting with Sue Sylvester.
The day isn't awkward at all, but the change in Rachel is visible. It's almost funny to see. Her steps are
lighter, and she smiles a little easier. There's a missing tension in her body, and, goodness, Quinn really is a
smug bastard.
But it's not awkward, and the two of them manage to hang out over the weekend without either of them
even bringing it up. It's not even something that sits heavily in the air between them. It's just a thing that
happened, and they've moved on.
Totally not awkward.
Until, maybe, it just is.
It's basically a week after the initial deed they don't speak of, and Quinn is lying on her bed with her
novel of the week when she gets a call from Rachel. Her smile is automatic when she reaches for her phone,
sliding to answer and being presented with a panting brunette.
Quinn freezes. "Rach?"
"I'm trying, but it's not working," Rachel says, and there's a certain whine in her voice that basically
explains the reason for her call.
Quinn doesn't have to ask what she's talking about. She's heard it only once, but Quinn is now aware of
what Rachel's voice sounds like when she's trying to get there.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Rachel says, breathing heavily. "I've done everything the same as the last time. I'm even
using the same damn playlist, but it's just not working."
"Hey," Quinn says, because it sounds as if Rachel might actually start crying. "It's okay. Just breathe,
okay? It's definitely not going to work if you're going to force it."
"I've been trying for a while," Rachel says, puffing out a breath. "I - I wouldn't have called if I wasn't
desperate."
"It's okay," Quinn assures her, setting her book aside and sitting straighter, folding her legs Indian-style
in front of her. "Do you want to keep trying?"
"Please."
Now, Quinn can't and won't ever be able to describe the way her own body reacts to the sound of that
word from Rachel's mouth. Quinn blinks several times, her heart rate rising without her intention.
Quinn clears her throat. "Okay, yeah, just, um, tell me where your hands are."
Rachel breathes deeply. "My left is cupping my breast," she explains. "And the other is on my clit."
Quinn squirms. "Are you playing with your nipple?" she asks, and Rachel whines.
"Yes, but it's not working."
"Okay, okay," Quinn says. "Let's start again. Take your hands away. Close your eyes and picture what
makes you hot."
Rachel is quiet for a moment, but she eventually hums.
"Now, both hands on your upper body," Quinn instructs. "Nothing purposeful. You're just waking
yourself up; getting yourself ready."
"Oh, damn," Rachel moans, and Quinn can only imagine what she's touching. "Can - can I touch my
breasts?"
On another night, Quinn will force herself to analyse how the power Rachel has handed her makes her
feel. For now, she says, "Not yet," and enjoys Rachel's answering groan in indignation. "Not yet," she says
again. "Just skim them."
Quinn feels drunk. What is happening? It's almost as if her body isn't her own, her mouth saying words
she never dreamed she would ever say. Her own eyes close, picturing Rachel the way she last saw her in this
state.
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 She tries to stop.
"I - I need to touch," Rachel forces out, her voice cracking from the effort of holding herself back. Quinn
can't figure how she could have possibly struggled before, when she sounds so primed for release already.
(Maybe Quinn is more powerful than she thought).
"You can touch," Quinn says, voice gentle.
Rachel's resulting moan comes loud and clear through the phone, and Quinn actually worries that her
own neighbours will hear. "God."
"Does that feel good?" Quinn finds herself asking.
"So good."
It's both easier and more difficult to talk Rachel through what to do when Quinn can't see. Having to rely
on Rachel to explain what her hands are doing is, well, it's -
"Oh, my God," Rachel groans, and Quinn can hear something slick, fingers pumping in and out, in and
out. Quinn continues to squirm, hearing Rachel getting closer and closer. "Yes, yes, oh, yes."
Quinn closes her eyes, neck heating up at just how lovely it is to be able to hear Rachel lose control like
this. "Almost there," Quinn murmurs.
"Al - most," Rachel gasps. "Oh, fuck."
Quinn feels that, deep in her bones. "Almost," Quinn repeats. "Just like that. Al - "
"Quinn," Rachel practically begs, and Quinn is at a loss to what more she can do. "Quinn."
Searching her brain for something, Quinn says, "God, you're so beautiful," in a voice that sounds foreign
to her own ears. "Listen to yourself. Listen to how good you sound. Desperate and loud and raw, while you
fuck yourself, and - "
Rachel comes with a scream, Quinn's name hanging in the air between them, echoing through a phone
connection that Quinn thinks of dropping before Rachel can regain her senses.
She stays on the line.
Rachel's breathing eventually slows, steadying to something normal. "Quinn?" she breathes.
"I'm here," Quinn says, starting to sound more like herself.
"You are not allowed to say the word 'fuck,'" she says, and Quinn laughs.
"Neither are you."

It happens twice more over the phone before they're back in the same room for it.
Whatever it is, they haven't actually talked about it. It's just a thing that seems to happen, Rachel
needing something from Quinn, and Quinn willingly giving it.
It.
Rachel is sprawled out on Quinn's bed, visibly exhausted after a gruelling Glee rehearsal. They had to
rework some choreography, and then reteach and relearn, and Rachel is beyond kaput. Her eyes are closed,
already half-asleep, but too tense with anxiety to give in to slumber.
Quinn comes out of her bathroom after brushing her teeth to find her mumbling to herself, and she can't
quite explain the feeling that takes root in her chest. It's something foreign, though she's not sure she's willing
to figure it out.
"You're hogging the bed," Quinn says.
Rachel's left foot twitches, though she doesn't move. "I'm so tired," she groans. "Can't move."
"Scoot over," Quinn says with zero sympathy.
"Stuck here forever."
"Rachel," Quinn complains. "Move, or I'll move you myself."
"I'd like to see you try."
Quinn rolls her eyes, but she gets onto the bed and rolls Rachel right over to the left side, laughing when
she lets out a little shriek.
:
 "Uncool, Fabray," Rachel says, and her pout is dangerous.
Quinn just grins at her as she lifts the covers and settles into bed. "You can't be that tired," she says. "I
know you get the most mileage, because you have to be everywhere all the time, but this looks... dangerous."
Rachel blows out a breath. "I'm... tense," she admits, which is something they now both understand; "but
I'm too tired to do anything about it." She sounds miserable about it, and, given they're performing in the
morning, that makes sense.
Lots of things make sense. Like, Rachel probably won't get good sleep until she does something about it.
Like, Rachel will be hell to deal with if she doesn't get here. Like, Rachel does look far too exhausted to do
much of anything.
Lots of things make sense.
Except this.
"Maybe I can help?"
Rachel's eyes open slowly, her brow creased. "How?" she questions, because, yip, there Quinn goes
offering herself up without even thinking it through.
"Um," Quinn stutters. "I could, um, you know." She does a vague little gesture towards Rachel's body
that they both, mercifully, don't understand.
"Touch me?" Rachel hazards a guess.
Quinn flushes. "No," she says. "Sort of. I mean, not with my hands or anything. Just - "
"Just what?"
Quinn audibly swallows. "Can I just show you?" she asks. "I'll move if you're not okay with it."
Rachel has barely moved a muscle of her own, so she just says, "Okay."
Quinn takes a deep breath, and then lifts herself up. She's under the covers, and Rachel isn't, which is
really useful in providing some kind of barrier between them. Quinn won't admit to knowing exactly what
she's thinking, but her brain has latched onto this idea, and there's really no backing out now.
With careful movements, Quinn rolls over Rachel, hovering there and gauging Rachel's reaction. When
there isn't one, Quinn slides one leg between both of Rachel's, and settles the bulk of her weight there.
Rachel reacts to that, moaning ever so quietly.
"Is this okay?" Quinn asks softly, making sure not to look at Rachel's face.
"Uh huh," Rachel murmurs.
"You have to think about what turns you on," Quinn tells her. "Can't have me doing all the work."
Rachel's laugh is soft, a little croaky, but it's enough to get Quinn moving. Her arms keep her supported
as she presses the flat of her thigh against Rachel's centre, several layers of fabric between them. Still, she
can feel the heat radiating from that part of Rachel's body, and Quinn does her best to focus on the task at
hand.
Quinn closes her eyes when Rachel starts making sounds. Quinn is a girl on a mission, it seems, and she
forces herself not to find any pleasure in this. It's not like that. She's determined for this not to be like that.
"Oh, God," Rachel gasps when Quinn hits her just right, and there's something positively sinful about
the way Rachel can't seem to catch her breath. "God, yes."
Quinn redoubles her efforts, wanting this to be quick. It needs to be over before she can start
overthinking it.
"More," Rachel whispers. "Harder, faster."
Quinn complies, her arms shaking until she's forced to drop onto her elbows and effectively change the
pressure and angle. She's also much too close to Rachel, and she can feel Rachel's breath right in her ear.
"Almost," Rachel gasps, and then does the unexpected and actually moves. Her hands slide down
Quinn's back and settle on her ass, cupping the flesh in both hands. She's basically helping Quinn thrust, and
it is dirty.
So, so dirty.
:
 "Yes, yes, yes," Rachel chants, and Quinn's eyes squeeze shut even tighter. "Yes, yes, oh, ye - "
And then it happens.
Rachel stills quite suddenly, and then releases a shudder, her breath hot against Quinn's skin. Quinn can
feel her pulsating, which is something she never thought she would ever experience. It's not weird, which is
the surprising part, and she remains tense against Rachel until her body has relaxed, practically melting into
the mattress.
Quinn waits another few moments, and then moves to roll off Rachel, wincing a little at the effort it took
her muscles to make sure the only part of their bodies that touched was that single point of contact. Anything
else would have just confused things.
Quinn settles on her back, shifting the covers over her hips, and sighs. Her heart is beating too fast, and
she has to admit that she's a little turned on herself. She just helped Rachel through a rather satisfying orgasm
- if her boneless appearance is anything to go on - and she thinks of sneaking into the bathroom to take care
of herself.
But then Rachel is rolling towards her, tucking herself against Quinn's side, and Quinn wouldn't dream
of moving. Rachel nuzzles her upper arm, getting comfortable.
Quinn doesn't have to look to know her eyes are closed, already sated and relaxed and sleepy. Quinn
gasps softly when a hand touches her abdomen, under the fabric of her t-shirt.
Rachel just hums, as if she hasn't just sent Quinn's heart into overdrive. "Thank you," she murmurs.
Quinn feels a host of emotions at the sound of the words, wondering if this is it for them. "Anytime,
Rachel," she responds just as quietly, and the most dangerous part is that she means it.

Now, Quinn wouldn't even know how it could possibly escalate from there, but it does. She can't say
exactly how it happens, or even why, but they seem to have crossed some kind of boundary that Quinn
suspects she'll never cross with someone she considers just a friend again.
A friend who is a girl.
A friend who Quinn now knows how she sounds when she comes.
So, when it escalates, Quinn doesn't allow herself to think too hard about it. It's basically a day later,
after they've won their Regionals competition and booked their spot at Nationals.
Rachel is alive and buzzing, and Quinn can still hear Rachel panting in her ear, hands on her ass,
begging for more. Quinn doesn't know much, but she does know that isn't typical friend behaviour.
So, when Rachel invites herself over to Quinn's house after the group has celebrated at Puck's house;
Quinn already knows what's going to happen.
Well, no, she doesn't, apparently, because Rachel says, "I feel selfish," once they've got into their
pyjamas and crawled into Quinn's bed, and Quinn has no idea what she's talking about.
Quinn is wearing her glasses, eyes focused on her phone's screen. "Huh?"
"Selfish," Rachel repeats. "I feel selfish."
Quinn frowns, forcing her gaze away from her phone. "What? Why?"
"I've got off five times now, and you haven't even once," she says, and Quinn's eyes widen. "Unless, of
course, you have," Rachel adds, looking a little panicky. "Which is totally fine. I mean, you don't have to tell
me or anything. I just - I feel as if - "
"Rachel," Quinn interrupts, chuckling softly. "Breathe."
Rachel breathes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I want to... help you, too."
Quinn's heart stops.
"But I guess you don't really need it the way I do," Rachel continues, picking at the embroidered design
on Quinn's duvet with her fingers. "So, I'm not really sure what I can do. For you."
Quinn blinks repeatedly, because Rachel isn't suggesting what Quinn thinks she's suggesting.
Surely not.
:
 Nope.
Definitely not.
Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, visibly nervous. "Would it be weird if we... did it
together?"
Quinn can't even breathe.
"Like, by ourselves, but in the same room," Rachel explains, and then grimaces. "Does that sound
awful? It sounds a little awful. Too close for comfort, right?" She pauses. "Feel free to jump in any time here,
Quinn."
Quinn audibly swallows. "That's - I don't know what to say."
"You can just say no and we can forget I suggested this entire thing."
"I want to."
Rachel's eyes snap towards her. "What?"
"I want to," Quinn repeats. She really, really wants to, but that's not something she's going to say out
loud. It's already odd enough that they're even considering what they already are. Quinn almost thinks she's
dreaming, but one pinch to her forearm and she knows it's real.
It's all real.
Rachel moves first, shifting until she's lying on her back. "Are you sure?" she asks when Quinn hasn't
moved at all. "We don't have to. I - I can just, you know, by myself."
Quinn looks away. "Would I have to leave?"
"No," Rachel rushes to say, eyes a little wide in panic. "I - I kind of can't... get there without you," she
whispers, which is a confession that is heavy with the kind of meaning that should terrify them both.
Quinn says, "Well, good, because I was staying, anyway."
Rachel smiles at her, and Quinn uses it as licence to get comfortable, as well, her body relaxing into her
mattress and her brain quietening. It has been a while since she's done this, and it's really not as weird as she
thought it would be to have Rachel here.
"Do you need me to talk?" Quinn asks.
"Yes," Rachel almost cries.
Quinn has zero idea where she finds the gall to ask, "Yes, what?" but Rachel understands immediately,
and they can both feel the shift in the atmosphere when Rachel's body boughs.
"Yes, please," she says, clear and purposeful, and Quinn wonders just how dangerous all of this actually
is. How do they ever come back from this? How do they ever stop? Would she even want to? What does it
mean if they don't?
Quinn's brain threatens to take her on some kind of tangent, but Rachel just says her name, and she's
back in reality, her heart still pounding and her body desperate for this.
This.
Quinn looks over at Rachel, her breath getting caught in her throat at the sight of just how dark her eyes
are. All Rachel is doing is looking at her, and that means something, Quinn is sure of it.
"Ready?" Quinn questions, and it sounds as if she's actually asking herself the question. She wants to do
this, but the idea of doing something so private with someone in the room is a little daunting.
But it's Rachel, and Quinn trusts her.
Even though Quinn is the one who speaks, she finds herself mimicking Rachel's actions. It seems easier
to lead with words, but follow with actions. Her skin is flushed with lingering uncertainty, but Rachel treats it
as another normal evening in their increasingly-abnormal relationship, and it helps Quinn relax.
And being relaxed is the only way this is going to work.
Unlike Rachel, Quinn doesn't remove her top, feeling a little too self-conscious, but Rachel doesn't
question her. Hands just roam with intent, and, before long, pyjama pants are shoved down their hips and
fingers work at their respective centres.
:
 It is an entirely different experience being a part of it, but also not. Quinn has never felt this in-tune and
detached simultaneously. It's as if the hand between her legs isn't even her own body, and it isn't helped by
the visual of Rachel Berry right in front of her.
Truth be told, Quinn barely has to do much to get herself there, which has always been a bit of a
blessing. She wonders if it's because she's always so wound right that it never takes much to set her off.
Tonight, though, she tries to hold off for as long as possible, the blood rushing in her ears and her heart
pounding in her chest. She wants to be with Rachel when it happens, which is why she listens carefully for
when Rachel's breath starts to change, Quinn's voice guiding through her movements, curling and rubbing
and pressing and -
They're side by side, so it's almost inevitable they touch. Rachel's knee against Quinn's hip, just for a
moment, but it's enough, and Quinn goes unexpectedly right over the edge, dragging Rachel right after her.
Their mutual moans fill the room, and Quinn shuts her eyes tight in an effort to ease herself back to
reality when she's prolonged it for as long as possible.
Because this is perhaps something out of a fantasy. Rachel Berry, climaxing right beside her, flushed and
panting and so insanely gorgeous that none of this can be real.
But Rachel smiles sleepily at her when she reopens her eyes, and how can she possibly deny that this
perfect moment exists?

It becomes a thing, after that.

It's not always something they do, but it happens more often than it doesn't, and Quinn can't put into
words the effect it has just having Rachel right beside her, hearing her and feeling the heat radiating off her
body.
Quinn has questions she needs to ask, but she doesn't want to ruin what they're doing by shining a
spotlight on it. She's just not as brave as she likes to think she is.
Because, as much as Quinn might like to kid herself, it is not normal friend behaviour. It's a truth Rachel
must know, but she's also choosing to ignore it. Peas in a pod, that's for sure. They've never really been all
that good at the talking thing, anyway, but it's been something Quinn has been looking to improve.
Now, all they really talk about is anything other than the fact they get off right next to each other quite
regularly.
Quinn won't admit that the best part - when her body manages to reach some level she didn't even know
it could - is when they accidentally touch. It's usually a stray knee or elbow, but it's enough just to know
Rachel is there, solid and present, and Quinn wants.
What she wants, she's not entirely sure. She's never considered this kind of thing with anyone before. It
is a private thing, but Rachel has wormed her way into this part of Quinn, offering no judgment and handing
over her own vulnerabilities.
So, here they are, revolving around each other in a way that suggests what they're doing means
something more. All Quinn really knows is she's not doing remotely anything with anyone else, and she has
no plans to. It's just Rachel.
Dare she say, it's always been Rachel, even if she never knew it until she just did.
Quinn will give her everything, her willingness to help and keep her happy a little worrying. There are
emotions attached to it, she knows, but now they're exploring their desires, and there's attraction growing into
something else within Quinn's chest.
Which is why she's conflicted when Rachel shyly asks if they can try that 'other thing' again. Quinn
doesn't know what she's talking about at first, the flush of her cheeks deeply distracting, but Rachel does a
small gesture with her hands, fingers crossing, and Quinn blushes with understanding.
"Oh."
Rachel can barely look at her as she lies there, fingers wringing together. She's adorable, truly, and
:
 Quinn wouldn't dream of denying her.
Just, this would be different to the last time.
"Together?" Quinn asks for clarification, and Rachel finally looks at her.
"Is that too weird?"
Quinn audibly swallows, choosing to remain standing on her carpet, phone in one hand and water bottle
in the other. Is it too weird? She knows there are words for what they're about to do - because, let's face it,
regardless of her misgivings, she's always going to agree - but her brain is studiously ignoring them.
"I think it'll be fine if we just keep all our clothes on," is what Quinn ends up saying, a lightness to her
tone that she doesn't feel.
Rachel smiles beautifully at her, shoulders relaxing at her acceptance. "Come here, then."
Quinn does a little hop as she moves to switch off the lights and change the playlist to something that
isn't going to make her sleepy. She sets her phone and water on the nightstand before she climbs under the
covers of her own bed and waits. She's not sure if it's for some kind of instruction, but Rachel reaches for her
wrist and it's all the permission Quinn needs.
It really is different this time.
When Quinn rolls over, right onto Rachel, there are no covers between them. Just the fabric of their
underwear and pyjamas, and Quinn is sure she can already feel the heat radiating from her.
"Is this okay?" Quinn asks softly, her right leg settling between Rachel's, even as Rachel lifts her own to
press rather delightfully against Quinn's centre. She bites back a groan, her arms shaking where she's
desperate not to collapse onto Rachel or even touch her unnecessarily.
They aren't even looking at each other.
Instead of a response, Rachel's hands slide along her back and ease her down onto her elbows. And then
closer still, their fronts pressed together in a way that makes this more than it is.
It is so very different.
Quinn still can't meet her gaze, because she's afraid she won't be able to look away if she does. What
would it even mean to be doing this with their eyes locked?
With a sigh, Quinn drops her head past Rachel's, her mouth pressing into her shoulder as her hips shift
down and forward.
Good God.
Rachel's grip tightens on her back, but she doesn't make a sound. Quinn can't get a read on her, but her
hips shift again, turning into a thrust, and her eyes close at the sensation.
This is Rachel.
Rachel Berry is beneath her, and Quinn can smell her and hear her breathing, and Quinn is suddenly
very, very turned on.
"Is this still okay?" Quinn asks, right against Rachel's ear, her voice little more than a rasp.
This time, Rachel does moan, and her own hips meet Quinn's, her leg tensing in a way that doesn't leave
anything lost in translation. They start moving together, hips meeting in a steady rhythm, and Quinn can
barely breathe.
Rachel's chest quakes with her efforts to muffle her moans, but Quinn doesn't want her to do that. She
doesn't want Rachel to restrain herself for her sake. It's supposed to be good for them both.
Which is why Quinn turns her head and says, "I want to hear you," right into Rachel's ear, and the
change is immediate.
Rachel groans, loud and dirty, her hands dropping to Quinn's ass in a way that's familiar. They squeeze,
urging Quinn's hips to move faster, and Quinn shifts closer, her mouth pressed to the shell of Rachel's ear.
Quinn can tell Rachel is still holding something back, and she whispers, "Let go," just loud enough to
elicit a strangled growl from the back of Rachel's throat.
Quinn can feel her own orgasm building, the pressure on her clit more than enough to get her there, but
:
 she's too focused on whether Rachel is with her to reach for it.
"What do you need?" Quinn asks, desperate to help.
Rachel squirms, shifting and moving, and Quinn follows until her weight is focused entirely on her leg.
"Harder," Rachel pleads, and Quinn presses against her with everything she has. "More. Please, more. Please,
yes, please."
If anyone were to ask Quinn just what possesses her to do what she does, she doesn't think she'll have an
explanation. She lifts herself up, right onto her hands, allowing her to add considerable force to her own
thrusts, Rachel's left leg hooked around her waist.
Rachel grows more vocal with the change, and Quinn knows it must be working. The position is
dangerous in its own way, though, because Quinn ends up looking at Rachel's face, her skin flushed with
exertion. That would be fine, if Quinn's gaze didn't actually catch Rachel's and lock on, something truly
significant passing between them.
They're both coming a beat later. Quinn's orgasm catches her completely off guard, and the rhythm of
her hips stutters and starts as she throbs, Rachel damp against her leg as she rides her own high.
When their bodies have grown still, Quinn puffs out a breath and carefully rolls off of Rachel, her body
a potent mixture of tense and relaxed. She settles back against her pillows and pulls the covers up, not
entirely sure what to make of what just happened.
Quinn can't make sense of it right now, her brain still in a post-orgasm haze, but what she does say is,
"Holy shit."
Rachel hums in agreement. "Holy shit, indeed."

When Quinn is lucid enough to unpack the events of the night, she has to force herself to accept that
looking into Rachel's eyes is -
Well, Quinn can't tell if it's a good or bad thing that meeting Rachel's heated gaze has the potential to set
off her orgasm. For a brief moment, she worries it could be some kind of spontaneous thing, but she
dismisses that quickly, because, seriously, that's just ridiculous.
But, just imagine if one look into Rachel's eyes, even while they're just in class, and BAM, you're
suddenly in the middle of a climax. It'd be some kind of super power, and Quinn definitely wouldn't put it
past Rachel.
The smart thing would be to talk about it. They need to sit together and address this thing they seem to
be doing, because these are things that people who are decidedly more than just friends get up to. Quinn
cannot escape the very real truth that they practically dry humped, which, yeah, that's something they totally
did.
If anyone - literally anyone - had told a freshman Quinn Fabray she would be orgasming on the regular,
with her best friend, she would have straight up had them committed... especially if they revealed that person
to be Rachel Berry.
Like, can you imagine?
So, they really should talk about it, but the future Yale student she is doesn't, and she just creates an even
bigger mess for herself.
At least she's satisfied.

They have options now.

Different ways to get them both off at any one time, though Quinn is less inclined to see her own half
through; more fascinated with watching Rachel touch herself. There's a truth that follows that confession, and
Rachel just stares at her for the longest time when she reveals it, however reluctantly.
"What do you mean?" Rachel finally asks, her own cheeks a little pink, because Quinn hasn't been able
to look away from her even once.
:
 "You are beautiful," Quinn says, and her voice doesn't even sound like her own as she sits cross-legged
on her bed and watches as Rachel shifts into a more comfortable position lying on her back. "I have never
seen anything more alluring."
"Oh, my God."
Quinn smiles at her. "Seriously, Rachel," she says. "It is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen;
just watching you let go."
"Are you messing with me?"
Quinn frowns. "What? Of course not. Why would I?"
Rachel just studies her closely, searching her face for whatever truth. Then she sits up and reaches for
Quinn, a hand sliding around the nape of her neck. She draws her close, resting their foreheads together.
"That's all well and good," she murmurs; "but I still want you with me." She pauses. "Please."
Quinn's heart stutters in her chest, because this suddenly feels very intimate.
"Please," Rachel repeats.
"Okay," Quinn says, already moving. She unfolds her legs from beneath her and forces Rachel to lie
back as she moves to hover over her, not quite touching just yet.
Rachel looks up at her, eyes wide and youthful, dark with desire in a way that's extremely telling. How
they managed to get to this point in their lives, Quinn will never know.
"So beautiful," Quinn marvels quietly, making them both blush.
Rachel finally reaches for her, always so impatient, and Quinn settles against her, both of them moaning
at the contact.
"So, so beautiful," Quinn murmurs, and then she starts to move.

The first time it happens at school is unplanned, of course. Quinn would never dream of losing control
that way in such a place, but Rachel Berry is a delightful sin, and Quinn is a sinner.
She always has been.
But it is an accident, and one Quinn won't allow herself to admit to, because she's supposed to have
better control than this. She's supposed to be above some base teenager who is controlled by her hormones.
She is anything but.
It happens after Glee. After Quinn has watched Finn and Rachel sing another duet. After she has
convinced herself it's only a matter of time before they call an end to their ridiculous break, and whatever she
and Rachel are doing is just over. After she has reminded herself that she's the one who gets to touch Rachel
while she comes.
It's the boldest she's been, after that display. Her hands possessive as she shoves Rachel against the wall
and presses the length of her body against hers. She still won't look at her as her thigh slots into its favoured
position, and she even pauses to allow Rachel to voice if she doesn't want this.
No protest arrives, and Quinn thrusts her hips like a woman who knows her days are numbered,
unsteady and powerful, settling into a fierce rhythm that has Rachel gripping her shoulders tight enough to
leave bruises.
When Rachel's moans get too loud, Quinn has to cover her mouth with one of her hands, definitely not
wanting to get caught getting frisky in the Choir Room.
The problem is Rachel needs more, and Quinn realises that rather quickly. She doesn't even need Rachel
to tell her as much, before she's shifting back, abandoning her initial position, and sliding her hand down to
replace her thigh between Rachel's legs.
The change is immediate. Rachel bucks against her hand, her fingers digging into Quinn's shoulders.
Quinn angles the heel of her palm just right, adding the kind of pressure that Rachel desperately needs.
"God, right there," Rachel hisses, her voice muffled as it attempts to get through the gaps in Quinn's
fingers.
:
 Fingers that actually end up in Rachel's mouth.
Quinn is so shocked by the effect the action has on her own body that she almost misses Rachel's
climax, her body arching and her centre throbbing. It's absolutely amazing actually feeling it against her skin,
and she's aware this could turn into an addiction.
Rachel sucks on her fingers for a moment, before she opens her mouth, and Quinn retracts every part of
her body that's touching Rachel's, suddenly feeling cold at the loss.
Rachel blinks up at her, clearly spent. "Quinn," she says, still a little breathless.
"Rachel?"
"We can never do that in this room again," she says, as if it's something she tells herself she has to say.
Because fuck if either of them is going to listen.

It is in mid-April that something very specific happens.

It has nothing to do with Quinn or Rachel, but it involves them in a way that causes something of a shift
in the new normal they've established.
Finn decides that the best way to raise money is to have a kissing booth, again, and Quinn has to
suppress her urge to strangle him for even suggesting such a thing a second time around.
Santana, thankfully, says, "Dude, nobody wants to be kissing you," with all the disdain Quinn feels.
"And some of us are fucking gay."
Finn looks undeterred. "I've thought about that," he says. "It won't just be me. It'll be you, too, because
it's all about equality."
"No fucking way," Santana immediately says.
Finn shakes his head, as if he doesn't understand. "Why not?" he asks. "There will be a guy, and a girl.
Everyone will have an option."
"I don't want to kiss some guy," Santana says, pulling a face. "Gross." She exaggerates a shudder. "And
I'm in a relationship, in case you forgot. I don't want to be kissing some random just because we suck at
budgeting."
"But, who else is going to do it?" he asks, casting a look around the Choir Room, as if he expects
someone just to volunteer.
"Why not Berry?" Santana suggests, and Quinn's hackles rise right up at the suggestion.
Nope.
No way.
Rachel is to stay safe and untouched by this disgusting student body, and Quinn will fight it with her
bare hands. She will.
"No way," Finn says immediately, and Quinn hates that she actually agrees with him on something.
Rachel looks affronted at the hasty dismissal, which isn't a surprise to Quinn. It's actually kind of
adorable. "Finn, I don't appreciate your just deciding for me," Rachel says hotly. "If this is some archaic ploy
to keep me on some kind of pedestal, I can assure you that - "
"It's not," Finn interrupts, and then winces. "It's just, you know... no offence, Rach, but we kind of need
to make money, and I don't think people will be lining up if it's, you know…" he trails off, and the truth of
what he's trying to say sits heavy in the air, even though it's left unspoken.
"Dude," Mike says, shaking his head. "That is low."
Rachel drops her gaze, her cheeks a little pale, and Quinn wants nothing more than to go up to her and
comfort her. Finn can be a total asshole, sometimes. He could have come up with some other reason for
Rachel not to be kissing other total random students.
Quinn doesn't say anything, though, and arguments break out over Finn's callousness and obvious desire
to make money for their Club by basically getting himself some action he wouldn't normally get.
The question remains, though.
:
 If not Rachel, then who?
Brittany is a no, because Santana would murder anyone who came near her. Mercedes is dating Shane,
which she just loves to point out. Sugar is... not known enough. Lauren would probably fight anyone who
came near her. Tina is also taken.
"Which really only leaves..."
All eyes turn towards Quinn simultaneously, and she immediately shakes her head in vehement refusal.
"No way," she says at the same time Rachel also starts shaking her head, her expression souring at the
suggestion. "Not happening."
"But you're the best option," Finn says. "Head Cheerleader, misunderstood, hot as hell."
Quinn blinks, because, um, isn't this the boy who was supposed to be ready to commit himself to Rachel
just a few months ago? "This is insane," Quinn says, which relates to so many things. "There's no way I'm
doing it."
She's doing it, apparently.
Mr Schuester thinks it's a brilliant idea to pimp out his students against their will, and Quinn grimaces
when he actually high-fives Finn for his ingenuity.
Quinn hates them all.
And she hates the student body even more, because they all seem to go a little crazy at the prospect of
getting to kiss the Head Cheerleader and/or the the star quarterback.
What does make Quinn feel better is how green Finn turns when she casually says, "If I have to kiss
girls, then you have to kiss boys."
He sputters, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but she just pats his shoulder and says, "Aren't
you the one who said it was all about equality?"
For the most part, it's not terrible. Quinn makes sure Brittany and Sam hand out mints all day, because
the last thing she wants is to deal with bad breath. Urgh. Most kisses are quick pecks, barely registering for
her.
The only ones that are memorable are the ones with Santana and Brittany, both of them delighting in the
opportunity to see what the fuss is all about when it comes to locking lips with her. Puck tries for a little
extra, and she pinches his ear - harder than is strictly necessary, but she won't admit it. Sam presses kisses all
over her face, which just makes her laugh.
Then there's Rachel.
Quinn expects her to kiss Finn when she shows up at the tail end of their lunch hour. It's been an endless
spiral of excited students, and Quinn is convinced that they've raised quite a bit of dough to put towards their
trip to Chicago.
She's happy to see Rachel, of course, but she's not especially keen on seeing her kiss Finn. She's suffered
through enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.
Rachel shoots her an easy smile when she arrives, her five dollars already at the ready. It's a bit steep,
Quinn knows, but her kisses don't come cheap.
"Hello, you," Rachel greets, ignoring Finn's blatantly expectant look.
Quinn smiles in response, unable to help herself. "Hey."
"How's it going?"
"I'm keen for it to be over," Quinn admits, which isn't even a little bit of a lie.
"Kissed everyone you wanted to?"
Quinn rolls her eyes. "There wasn't ever anyone I wanted to kiss," she points out.
Rachel pouts, waving her banknote in the air. "Not even me?"
Quinn's breath gets stuck in her throat, and Finn beats her to a response when he says, "I'll happily kiss
you, Rachel."
Something flickers in Rachel's expression then, but she still crosses over to his side and kisses his cheek
:
 before returning to Quinn. There's something particularly heavy in her gaze, and Quinn barely has time to ask
what's bothering her before Rachel is depositing her note in the little jar and sliding her hand behind Quinn's
neck. Quinn has just enough time to breathe before Rachel is urging her forward and connecting their lips.
Fireworks.
There's no other way to describe it. It's just a kiss, but it seems as if they both chase each other's mouths
when proprietary says to stop.
They don't.
Rachel presses her lips more firmly against Quinn's, the breath leaving her as her lips close around
Rachel's bottom one, guiding them and trapping them both in the moment. The kiss is deeper than anything
she's experienced today - or ever - and it takes the sound of the bell indicating the end of lunch to get them to
stop.
Rachel is actually panting when she pulls away, eyes dark and unreadable, and Quinn can't quite put into
words what's just happened. They've been so careful not to introduce something like this into what they're
doing, but this isn't something Quinn thinks they can hide from.
Nope.
Now that she knows how it feels to kiss Rachel, she can't realistically claim she doesn't want to do it
again. And again.
All the time.
"We should get to class," Rachel says, her voice a little shaky.
Quinn nods absently. "Uh, yeah, um, okay."
Rachel regards her closely, and then backs away and turns, heading down the corridor and leaving Quinn
reeling.
She's not the only one, apparently, because even Finn looks bewildered when he says, "What was that?"
What, indeed?

If Quinn is worried this new development has created an awkward atmosphere between them, she's
severely mistaken. She's so far off left field, in fact, because it rather seems to have settled something
between them.
Quinn arrives at Rachel's house after Cheerios practice as requested, and she just barely manages to get
out her greeting when she enters Rachel's room, before the door is slamming shut behind her and there's a
hot, insistent mouth on her own.
Quinn's bags slip from her hands immediately, her brain short-circuiting at the mere idea of being kissed
by Rachel Berry.
They're kissing.
Holy shit, they're actually kissing.
Quinn sinks into it with little thought, her heart pounding. Her fingers immediately tangle in Rachel's
hair, angling her head just right to deepen their kiss. She almost can't believe this is happening.
"What are we doing?" is what her helpful brain decides to say, and Rachel separates their mouths with
an audible pop.
"I have no idea," Rachel says truthfully. "All I know is I don't want to stop."
Quinn can at least accept that, and she doesn't have the willpower to question this further when Rachel
resumes their kiss, fingers digging into her sides and drawing her further into the room.
It'd be so simple to call this nothing - friends make out, maybe - but Quinn can taste Rachel's desire on
her tongue. She knows how Rachel sounds when she's aroused, and Quinn's heart can barely handle the fact
that she's doing this to Rachel.
Rachel, who drags her over to the bed, teeth nibbling at Quinn's bottom lip and rendering her completely
stupid. Quinn follows, as if some kind of magnet, and the two of them find themselves sprawled out on
:
 Rachel's bed, kissing as if the world is ending.
Rachel kisses with everything, Quinn quickly learns. Her own hands aren't sure what to do at first, her
body already on fire from just the fact Rachel is spread out beneath her. This - this is definitely the last thing
she expected to happen today, but there's no stopping them.
Quinn just knows it.
She gasps when Rachel's left hand grazes over her breast, seems to hesitate for a moment, before it
bravely cups what's on offer, and Quinn groans. Loudly.
Rachel uses it to spur her on, which, yeah.
Quinn can barely breathe, her senses assaulted with everything Rachel Berry. She almost wants to stop,
just to take a break and catch her breath, but the last thing she wants is to separate again. Quinn can't explain
this desire, as sudden as it is, and her heart is thumping wildly in her chest at the idea that this is something
she could have.
They could have.
A door slams downstairs, and they pull apart immediately, faces flushed and lips swollen. Quinn can't
seem to get a handle on her breathing, and they both panic at the sound of feet on the steps.
"Shit," Quinn mutters, and then almost tumbles off the bed in her haste to get to the bathroom and hide.
She knows it's cowardly, but she can't realistically face whoever is here while she's in such a state.
Just one look at her and it's obvious what she's been doing.
Quinn can hear muffled voices through the door, and she waits until Rachel knocks on said door and
says, "You can come out now," to do just that.
When Quinn emerges, Rachel looks predictably unimpressed. Quinn kind of just reaches for her, hands
settling at her waist in the kind of casual intimacy that hasn't always been part of their relationship.
At least not on Quinn's end. It's probably the reason Rachel even allows it, leaning into Quinn and
meeting her gaze when Quinn requests it.
"What are we doing?" Quinn asks again, quiet and vulnerable in a way she hates.
Rachel breathes out slowly, her hands reaching up to rest on Quinn's shoulders, somehow keeping them
both steady. Making sure neither of them floats away. "I have no idea," she confesses, just as quiet.
This time, Quinn is the one to kiss her. Soft and sweet, just barely there, and it stirs something deep in
her belly.
Only overshadowed by whatever the hell is going on in her chest.

For the first time since all this craziness started, it is awkward.
Quinn can't pinpoint exactly how or when it happened, but there's a certain tension that's crept into
their... relationship, and Quinn's brain won't stop from jumping towards the one sure way they've managed to
get rid of tension in the past.
But they kiss now, which makes the whole 'masturbating' thing even more complicated. Quinn isn't
naïve enough not to acknowledge that, if ever there was anything innocent about what they were doing, it's
completely gone now. They have something going on, and they are very far beyond friends.
It stays like that for a few days, and Quinn almost relishes the fact they have a hectic week of tests and
assignments. She's bogged down in a way that is exhausting, and she loves every second of it. She and
Rachel spend time together, but it's rarely just the two of them.
Instead, they study in groups, both of them helping Sam with his paper on King Lear and finding
resources for Mercedes' paper on World War One.
If Rachel seems a little snappier than usual, nobody brings it up. Quinn just takes note of it, and tries to
help by being very casual with her touches in public. She even massages Rachel's shoulders for a few
minutes when they're all supposed to be taking a break.
They don't kiss again until the end of the week, when Puck decides to throw a party to commemorate
:
 surviving a hell of a week. Rachel doesn't really want to go to the party, but Quinn manages to convince her
with promises of dancing and alcohol and something of a chilled night.
While the evening might start like that, it does not end that way.
Quinn sticks close to Rachel when they arrive at Puck's house, the two of them doing the rounds as if
they're actually together. The idea takes root in Quinn's brain, and she forces herself to down a rum and Coke
before she can spend too much time in that fantasy.
Because it is a fantasy.
Quinn won't let her heart latch onto such an idea when she knows Rachel is holding out for her leading
man. For Finn, or just someone like him. Quinn isn't even bitter about it, really, because all she wants is for
Rachel to get out of this damn town and move onto bigger and better things.
Quinn will settle for just being able to witness it, even if she won't get to experience it.
Neither of them gets... drunk. Not really. Rachel gets tipsy, which sees her actually agreeing to a game of
beer pong alongside Puck, the two of them going up against Santana and Brittany.
It goes about as well as one expects it to, and Quinn ends up holding back Rachel's hair when she pukes
out the contents of her stomach just an hour later.
It was fun while it lasted.
Quinn suggests they go home, but Rachel insists on staying, suddenly very sober.
"We can laugh at all the drunk people," Rachel offers, which is always appealing when you're not one of
those drunk people.
Quinn agrees, anyway, and they make their way back down the stairs to the living room. She sets Rachel
up on the couch with Blaine and Mike, who are having a serious conversation about pizza toppings. Without
giving it much thought, Quinn kisses the top of Rachel's head before she goes to fetch herself another drink.
She decides on just a Coke, wanting to satiate her thirst without the haze of alcohol. It's supposed to be a
quick in-and-out in the kitchen, but Jeremy, a footballer, catches sight of her. He's one of the boys she kissed
at the booth, and Quinn can tell he's drunk, which is made even more dangerous when his equally drunk
friends urge him on.
To do what, Quinn doesn't want to stick around to find out, and she ducks under his arm to escape the
kitchen. Only, the boy grabs for her, sluggish with his movements as he catches her wrist, and Quinn spins
around - too fast - and her head collides with the doorframe.
"Mother fucker," she hisses, dazed, and the boy - who, she swears, she will eviscerate come Monday
morning - lets go of her, and she loses her balance. She stumbles backwards, trips over a carpet, and lands
heavily on the ground, hitting her head on the edge of the coffee table as she goes down.
It goes dark for a few precious seconds.
Maybe even minutes, she's not sure.
When she comes to, again, Rachel is hovering over her, looking panicked. She blinks a few times, her
head throbbing. "Holy shit, that hurts," her mouth says, just as her brain thinks the words.
Rachel swats at her shoulder. "You scared me," she says, and there's a tightness to her voice that only
Quinn can hear. "What were you even doing? I didn't think you were that drunk."
Quinn struggles to sit up, an unknown pair of hands on her shoulders to help, and she turns her head to
see Sam there. He smiles a little lopsidedly, concern in his eyes. "Hi," she says to him.
"You okay there, Blondie?"
She grins. "Totally fine."
Rachel doesn't believe Quinn for one second, and insists they go home. Quinn is fine, but she's not going
to argue with the tiny hurricane demanding they go to sleep in a voice that clearly indicates they're going to
be doing anything but.
Rachel hasn't once stopped touching her since she came to, and Quinn is trying not to read too much into
it, but her brain is a little fried and Rachel's fingers sneak under her shirt and tickle the skin at the small of
:
 her back. Quinn can't be blamed for the direction of her thoughts.
She really wants to kiss Rachel again.
Quinn almost gets what she wants when Rachel presses a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth the
moment they enter the house. Rachel tells her to stay put and be quiet, and then disappears into the kitchen
for a moment, returning with two bottles of water, two apples and a pill bottle of some kind.
"Come on," Rachel says, and then leads the way up to her bedroom, continually glancing over her
shoulder, as if she expects Quinn to disappear from just behind her. They move quietly through the dark
house, making sure not to wake Rachel's fathers, and then both seem to breathe a sigh of relief once they're
safely inside Rachel's soundproofed bedroom.
"Sit," Rachel instructs, and Quinn obeys.
Quinn settles on the edge of Rachel's bed and immediately starts to remove her shoes. Leaning forward
causes a bit of dizziness and she teeters unsteadily until Rachel is pushing her shoulders back. She says
nothing as she drops to her knees to remove Quinn's shoes for her, and, yeah, having Rachel kneeling in front
of her isn't really helping Quinn get a hold of her spiralling thoughts.
Quinn reaches out to touch her, fingers gentle against the skin of her cheek. "So soft," she murmurs, and
Rachel just looks at her, expression unreadable. "I want to kiss you," Quinn blurts a moment later, and now
Rachel smiles.
"In a minute," Rachel assures her. "Let's get you into pyjamas first."
"No," Quinn pouts. "Now." She pauses. "Please."
Rachel rises up, her fingers threading through Quinn's hair. "You scared me tonight."
"Sorry," Quinn mumbles. "Is that why you're not kissing me?"
Rachel chuckles softly, and then draws Quinn into a hug that has them both relaxing. Quinn's hands
settle at her waist, pulling her into the space between her knees.
"Stay here," Quinn whispers.
"Wouldn't dream of going anywhere else."
What feels like an hour later, but is probably just a few minutes, Rachel forces Quinn out of her party
clothes and into an oversized t-shirt that neither of them knows the origins of. She makes Quinn drink her
water, take some Advil and endure at least three bites of her apple before she's sent to the bathroom, and then
only is she allowed to get into bed.
Rachel floats around the room after that, and Quinn can't possibly look anywhere else. Her eyes track
her movement, barely looking away whenever Rachel looks back with questions in her eyes.
Quinn isn't drunk.
She just really wants to kiss Rachel.
When Rachel finally gets into bed, Quinn is already lying on her side and facing her, a gentle smile on
her face. She's weirdly happy, even if she's sure she's going to have at least two bruises on her head in the
morning… if she doesn't already.
Rachel shifts in nice and close, her hands reaching out to hold the fabric of Quinn's t-shirt in her fists.
The room is dark, but Quinn can still see Rachel's eyes; the way they search her own for something. "You
scared me," Rachel repeats. "I - I can't lose you, Quinn Fabray."
"Rachel," Quinn breathes, because Rachel's voice sounds thick with emotion. "I'm right here, okay? I'm
not going anywhere." She exaggerates a wink. "Can't get rid of me that easily."
Rachel shakes her head. "Don't scare me like that ever again."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yip."
Laughing softly, Rachel rests her forehead against Quinn's, closing her eyes and taking a slow, steadying
breath.
:
 Quinn uses the opportunity to wrap her arms around Rachel's waist, hands on the small of her back, and
draws her closer, right into her own body.
"I'm going to kiss you now," Quinn warns, voice barely a whisper.
When Rachel opens her eyes, she can see the desire reflected in Quinn's gaze just moments before
Quinn moves to kiss her.
This kiss isn't like any of the other kisses they've shared, and Quinn feels her entire body ignite at the
truth that this kiss isn't going to end like the others, either.
This kiss isn't languid or searching.
No, instead, it's hurried and rushed, frantic in its passion, and it leaves them both breathless when they're
forced to part. Quinn stares into Rachel's eyes, asking a silent question that Rachel can't seem to answer.
It feels dangerous, this moment. As if it could make or break them, and Quinn wants the world to pause,
just for a minute, so she can gather her thoughts and decide if taking this particular plunge is worth it.
Who is she kidding?
She's wanted this for weeks.
Her body is screaming for it.
"I know we shouldn't do this," Quinn says, her hands already moving underneath Rachel's shirt with
purpose; "but I seriously don't even care."
"Neither do I," Rachel echoes, and then surges forward to kiss Quinn - hard.
Quinn doesn't want to think and analyse it any more than she already has. All she wants is this: to have
this feeling, this proof of the real and living connection between the two of them. Something unmistakable. A
connection they almost lost tonight and it's this thought that makes them more fervent with their touches,
sliding hands underneath t-shirts and cupping breasts.
Quinn moans into Rachel's mouth, pulling Rachel closer, all while opening her mouth, her tongue
sliding out to meet Rachel's as Rachel manoeuvres her body in between Quinn's legs. It is hot and heavy, the
sound of their breaths filling the room and the temperature rising.
Rachel drops her head down, kissing the line of Quinn's neck, and Quinn gasps when Rachel thrusts her
hips into Quinn as she pulls her in for another kiss.
One thing Quinn has learned is that Rachel is impatient. Quinn is rather content to keep doing this,
really. Touching Rachel, kissing her, it all feels so good and Quinn can't remember ever feeling this way.
Rachel, on the other hand, is not so much willing to remain right here. She pulls away almost
desperately, her skin flush with desire and lips swollen.
"You are driving me mad," Rachel makes a point of saying, grinding her hips again. "I just want to touch
more and more."
Quinn barely has time to register the words before Rachel is pulling impatiently at the t-shirt Quinn is
wearing and casting it aside. In a matter of seconds, Rachel is also stripped of her own clothes, and Quinn
stares, transfixed, at all the gorgeous skin on offer.
She's a little terrified, sure, and the sudden lack of clothes is a little startling. But it's also enflaming, and
her desire skyrockets, her body reacting by returning Rachel's kisses more eagerly than ever. It's a mess of
lips, teeth and tongues, and she wants this.
She does.
God, she does.
It's only when Rachel's hand travels downward, hesitating at the material of Quinn's panties that she
pauses. This is one of those questions with one of those life-changing answers, and Quinn likes to think she's
ready.
They're ready for whatever this changes about them.
Breathing raggedly and looking into Rachel's eyes, the question is clear to see in her gaze. Quinn's
response is non-verbal as she rests her hand on top of Rachel's, quietly encouraging movement. They can talk
:
 about it later. Or tomorrow.
Maybe never.
Together, they remove the last item of clothing, their kisses demanding as ever, taking what they need
from each other.
What happens next is something out of a dream. Quinn's sure she's actually suffering from a concussion
as she watches Rachel slide down the length of her own body, fingers lacing with hers and wrapping her lips
around Quinn's nipple, sucking at her breast.
Quinn's free hand moves automatically, pressing against the back of Rachel's head, fingers gripping her
scalp in encouragement. The groan Rachel releases is heavenly, and Quinn squirms beneath her. She wants
her own taste of Rachel, and she ducks her head slightly as she drags Rachel's head back up, their lips
meeting again.
"You feel so good," Rachel murmurs. "You taste so good."
Quinn didn't think she would like talking, but the sound of Rachel's voice is heady and intoxicating,
ringing in her ear and echoing right down her spine. Rachel's lips travel down her neck again, trailing even
lower.
"Smooth and sweet," Rachel says, breath hot against her skin. "Like milk and honey."
Quinn groans, her eyes closing.
"I want to taste all of you," Rachel says, and Quinn figures out exactly what that means when Rachel's
mouth moves lower still, purposeful and exploring all at once. Quinn is slightly tense as Rachel spreads her
legs that bit more, exposing her and humming at the sight of what she finds.
"Can I?" Rachel asks, and Quinn is powerless to deny her.
Quinn nods, words failing her, and Rachel's mouth descends on her, no hesitation behind her
movements, as if it's something she's dreamt about and wanted for longer.
Rachel sucks on Quinn's clit, not even waiting to explore for too long, and Quinn's entire body responds
by arching rather dangerously. The back of her head hurts from pressing into the pillows, but there's no other
way to respond to the feel of the flat of Rachel's tongue moving over the length of her sex.
Quinn shudders a moment later, her groans muffled by her own hand, before those same fingers work
their way into Rachel's hair again, pressing hard against her scalp. Their interlocked hands tighten as well, as
if they're both holding on for dear life.
"So good," Rachel murmurs against her heat, lips and tongue moving with purpose. "So, so good."
Quinn's pupils are completely blown, and she actually gasps when Rachel suddenly shoves the covers
aside and lifts up her head. Her eyes are the darkest they've ever been, her mouth and chin damp with Quinn's
arousal, and Quinn can barely handle just how poised for release she is already.
"Are you okay?" Quinn finds herself asking, her voice huskier than normal, causing a visible shiver to
run down Rachel's spine.
"Quinn," Rachel murmurs, moving up her body, her knee resting in the axis of Quinn's crotch, grinding
into her. Her voice is deep and insistent as she dips down and whispers into Quinn's ear, "I want to fuck you."
Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, a tremble moving through her body. Whoa. Okay. That is something
they've never spoken about - barely even truly alluded to, bar the time Quinn worked rather tirelessly to stop
Rachel from pressuring herself into losing her virginity, which she failed at. Quinn's own sexual history is
widely known, of course. Puck and solely Puck, but Quinn wouldn't call that experience enjoyable.
It was anything but.
Definitely nothing close to what this is proving to be.
"With my fingers," Rachel continues, seemingly unable to stop talking when faced with Quinn's
extended silence. "I want to be inside you," she adds, sounding a little nervous. "I want to feel you come."
"God, Rachel," Quinn groans, coming to life and lacing her fingers in Rachel's hair, drawing her upward.
"I want that, too. I want nothing less."
:
 Quinn's kiss is fierce and sudden, hot and demanding and over before it can escalate, her own taste
lingering on her tongue. It ends when Quinn feels Rachel slide her hand down, resting on the outside of her
sex.
Rachel breathes against Quinn's lips as she murmurs, "I'll start slow, okay?" in a way that's both
reassuring and settling.
It helps Quinn relax. "Okay," she rasps, lifting her hips up to meet Rachel, who kisses her again.
For the first time, there's hesitance in Rachel, a visible tenderness and worry in her features as her hand
moves to explore Quinn's depth, fumbling for a moment as she makes sense of what she finds at the tips of
her fingers.
"You're so wet," Rachel quietly marvels, which is more of an involuntary observation than anything. As
assured, she does go slowly, a single finger moving inside Quinn in a gentle push, and Quinn gasps.
Rachel freezes, looking up at Quinn with sudden concern
Quinn offers her a shaky smile. "I'm fine," she promises, her voice low and rough. "It's okay. Don't
stop."
And so, Rachel doesn't, and Quinn forces her eyes open as Rachel explores her inner depths. Her finger
moves forward, and then backward, as if she's steadily learning the lay of the land.
"Okay?" Rachel asks, and Quinn has just enough time to nod before Rachel adds a second finger and
ups the pace of her movements into another natural rhythm.
The next few moments are really a blur. Quinn reaches for Rachel, pulling her up to meet her lips in
another passionate kiss, muttering for Rachel to go faster, harder. She feels wild and out of control, her own
body moving against Rachel's. She's close, she knows, and she also knows that Rachel can tell.
Rachel's thumb flicks over her clit, deliberate enough to resemble some kind of pressing of a button, and
it has its desired effect. They're still kissing when Quinn comes, shuddering and clinging to Rachel, those
fingers remaining inside her long after it's over.
Quinn watches, transfixed, when Rachel eventually pulls out, her hand wet and glistening, and Quinn
feels embarrassment crawl up her neck. Rachel slides up her body, fingers tracing over her frame and hands
roaming over her few curves.
"Hey," Rachel murmurs when Quinn won't look at her. "What's wrong?" she asks, touching Quinn's
cheek and turning her head.
It takes Quinn a moment to be able to look at her eyes, swallowing audibly. "Nothing's wrong," she
murmurs. "That was - "
"Perfect," Rachel finishes, looking pleased. "You are so perfect."
Quinn blinks. "Oh." She feels Rachel squirm against her, shifting uncomfortably, and Quinn knows what
she wants to do. She just needs -
Well.
"I want to touch you," Quinn tells her. "I just - I've never - "
Rachel's smile is soft, full of understanding. "It's okay," she soothes. "There's no right or wrong way,
okay? Right now, I'm certain anything you do will be perfect."
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "You're that cued up, huh?"
"Like you have no idea."
Quinn thinks she might, but that's something she'll figure out another time. Right now, she asks, "Will
you tell me if I'm doing something you don't like?"
"Quinn, you already know what I like," Rachel points out, which is very, very true. "And, either way, it
doesn't even matter, because what I like is you, so you're practically already there."
Something threatens to explode in her chest, but she ignores it in favour of flipping them over, her body
pressing down into Rachel's. Her kiss is frenzied, demanding in its desire, and the groan Rachel releases is
obscene, her arms wrapping around Quinn's back, urging her on. Encouraging her with both words and
:
 actions.
Frankly, Quinn needs neither.

If Quinn thinks they're somehow going to call it some kind of drunken mistake, she's severely mistaken.
She wakes to the feel of Rachel's mouth wrapped around one of her nipples, and they end up getting
each other off another two times - each.
Both of them completely sober.

There is no denying it now.

Not that Quinn would even want to, anymore.
It's just a truth that exists now.
They had sex.
They are having sex, frequently.
It is decidedly not awkward at all. In fact, it is the entire opposite of awkward. Their relationship now
has this sexual intimacy that has Quinn seeking her out whenever she walks into a room; her eyes always
searching for her.
Quinn knows what's happened.
She knows, and, while terrifying, it also feels like the simplest thing in the world. The sex is all well and
good - it's actually fucking fantastic, but that's a story for another day - but Quinn has done the disastrous
thing and actually gone and fallen in love.
It is pointless to deny it. Quinn isn't in tune with a lot of things about herself, but she knows Rachel
Berry is the most important person in her life. Quinn wants to spend all her time with her - having sex or
even not - and she wants to be talking to her and seeing her and just -
She is in love, and it is both the best and worst thing ever to happen to her.

The problem is Quinn doesn't really have anyone other than Rachel to talk to about what's been
happening. Santana would just laugh at her for getting into this mess with her ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.
Oh, well, that's another thing, really, because Rachel and Finn are actually just 'on a break' - whatever
that even means - which makes Quinn's position even more perilous.
Brittany is knowing in her own way, but Quinn doesn't trust her not to tell Santana - or everyone else, by
the way. She could talk to Sam, but she doesn't want to make it weird for him, given their own history.
Mercedes, maybe, but they haven't been close in years. Kurt is a thought that floats right through her mind
until Quinn settles on Blaine.
Blaine, who is somewhat neutral, even if he has kissed Rachel before.
Quinn manages to get him alone under the guise of working on something Glee-related, and they just
make it into an empty classroom before her mouth opens and she blurts, "Rachel and I are having sex."
Predictably, Blaine looks caught off guard with the confession, and he resembles a fish as he registers
the information he's just been given. "Oh."
Quinn begins to pace the length of the room. "Oh, indeed," she says, running her fingers through her
hair. "It is - I don't - something is happening, and I have never felt so powerless."
Blaine stares blankly back at her.
"I mean, she's kind of my best friend, and I know it's a terrible idea," Quinn continues anyway, just
needing to say the words to somebody. "I just - I never even truly considered if I liked girls, you know? I
don't know if I'm gay. I just - I just really like being with her, and it isn't just about the sex, you know? It's
more than that. She makes me happy, and I know it's dangerous wanting to be with someone who is already
partly someone else's, and we should definitely stop, but I really don't want to."
She sucks in a deep breath, her feet carrying her across the room. "It's been building to this, you know? I
:
 could have nipped it in the bud a long time ago, but I think a part of me knew this is where we were headed,
and I'm not strong enough. I'm not, Blaine. I've been so controlled my entire life, and I want this, okay? I
want her."
Quinn turns her gaze on the boy, both of them looking a little distraught. "I want her," she repeats; "and
it is going to destroy me."
Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but immediately closes it.
Quinn just nods. "Right, okay then," she says, heading to the door. "Good talk, thank you." And then
she's gone.

Quinn reasons that she's going to end up hurt, either way, so she's just going to enjoy it. There doesn't
seem to be a point in actually talking about it, because she's suddenly sure it's all going to come to an abrupt
end if either of them actually puts it into words what they're doing.
They're still friends, who just happen to have sex. Quinn won't put the label 'friends with benefits' in the
Universe, because that feels wrong, for some reason. They're more than that.
They're also less, apparently.
It's all so very confusing for Quinn, who has come to the conclusion she's somewhat emotionally
stunted. That has to be the reason she can't seem to figure out this whole big mess she's managed to get
herself into. Falling for her best friend is disastrous enough without adding on the fact she's currently having
unattached sex with said best friend.
Quinn briefly considers avoiding Rachel and effectively ending whatever unspoken arrangement they've
reached, but Quinn doesn't think she's strong enough.
Why should she fight it, anyway? There's literally no point. She could try to stop, but she'd just end up
miserable now, rather than later, and Quinn knows, deep down, she can't stop.
She wants.
Oh, how she wants.
All the reasoning in the world wouldn't make Quinn be the one to end it. If anyone is going to call quits
on what they're doing, it's going to have to be Rachel. She holds all the power here. She always has, because
Quinn truly is powerless to Rachel's eyes that are dark with desire, or her body that's warm and welcoming.
That's what's drawing her in right now, when they're supposed to be doing their homework. It's just that
Rachel is stunning, just standing there and sifting through her bag for the homework Quinn is suddenly sure
she's not going to get to for at least another hour.
Quinn gets to her feet from where she's been sitting on Rachel's bed and crosses the room towards the
other girl. It's less common that Quinn is the one initiating any of their dalliances, mainly because Rachel
does it so often that Quinn barely has a chance to.
But Quinn wants her now, and she makes sure to grab the notebook right from Rachel's hands the second
she pulls it out of her school bag.
An exasperated expression forms on Rachel's features at the action, and Quinn feels something inside
herself snap. She wants this girl more than anything in this world, and she's so tired of fighting it.
"Quinn," Rachel complains. "I need that back."
Quinn waves the notebook right in face. "You mean this?" she asks, coy. "You want it back, huh?"
"That's what I said."
"Come and get it."
Rachel doesn't move, her eyebrows lifting. "And, what exactly am I getting?" she asks.
Quinn tosses the notebook over her shoulder, and Rachel barely reacts when it lands on the carpet.
"Me," Quinn says, her grin a little lopsided.
When Rachel does move, it's to stand right in front of Quinn, their bodies just barely touching. "I get
you?" she questions.
:
 "Always."
Rachel looks right into her eyes. "For forever?"
The air suddenly feels heavy, and Quinn knows she's going to end up revealing the strength of her
feelings if they continue down this path.
Another day, maybe.
Now, though, she mumbles assurances to herself under her breath and ignores the look of confusion that
forms on Rachel's face, as she pulls Rachel forward until they're pressed together, hooking her fingers into
the belt loops of her jeans.
Rachel grins knowingly at her, wrapping arms around her neck and kissing her rather thoroughly. Quinn
returns the kiss with obvious interest, groaning as Rachel turns them both and backs her into the closest wall
with an audible thump, grinding her hips into Quinn.
The kiss turns dirty, and Quinn reaches for Rachel's shirt, whipping it up and over her head with little
preamble, and then touching her chest with all the confidence of someone who has done this a number of
times.
Eventually, when she's no longer satisfied with standing, Quinn hunches down, slips her hands
underneath Rachel's thighs and lifts her up.
Shrieking at the unexpected move, Rachel clutches onto Quinn, arms tight around her neck and legs
snug around her waist, as they head to the bed. They collapse onto it, Quinn careful not to crush Rachel with
her weight as they land in a heap of laughter.
Rachel draws Quinn down for another kiss, which earns her a moan right into her mouth. Beyond the
haze of what their mouths are doing, Quinn registers the feel of Rachel unbuttoning her shirt, hands tracing
over the contour of her breasts.
Quinn pauses their kissing to watch Rachel, taking in her plump lips, almost bruised from the force of
their kisses, and the wild windswept look of hair. Rachel is breathing heavily, looking up at Quinn with wide
and questioning eyes, clearly confused as to why they've stopped.
"Quinn?" Rachel asks quietly, concern clouding her features.
"It's nothing," Quinn mutters, which is true. Her feelings aren't going to stop her from enjoying this
moment. In fact, they're just going to enhance everything, and it's all she's thinking about as she kisses
Rachel deeply, her tongue seeking entrance, moaning when Rachel reciprocates.
They're already entwined on the bed, Quinn with her shirt unbuttoned and Rachel clad in just her jeans
and a bra when the door bursts open and a voice is saying, "Oh, thank goodness you're here, you just got your
-"
Quinn scrambles right off of Rachel, her face aflame, and she almost falls right off the bed in her haste.
"Oh, my God, Dad!" Rachel shouts, her voice panicked as she grabs for a pillow to cover her chest. "We
talked about knocking!"
Quinn can barely look at either of them, but she shoves Rachel's shirt at her, which she quickly slips on,
and then shuffles her father right out of the room and closes the door behind them.
While the boundary offers the illusion of privacy, Quinn can still hear them.
"Sorry about that," Hiram says, but he sounds far too excited about what he's just learned. "You and
Quinn, huh? That's great, Honey. You know you could have told us. She's a massive improvement to that
Finn boy, truly, and you know we would always support you in - "
"Dad," Rachel interrupts. "That's not - we're not - just, what did you want to talk about?"
Quinn knows she shouldn't read too much into Rachel's evasiveness, but there's something about the
lack of confirmation that stings. She can't expect Rachel to talk to her father about them before they even talk
about it themselves... which they probably won't do.
But maybe they should. Quinn thinks the best thing is to discuss exactly what's happening between them
and figure out what it means for their relationship. Because Quinn knows what she wants. She's known for a
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 long while, it seems, and she thinks she might actually be brave enough to voice the words
Which is a stance that all gets derailed when Rachel reenters the room, her eyes slightly hesitant as she
makes sure to lock the door behind her. "Sorry about that," she says. "My Dad just wanted to give me this."
Quinn blinks at the envelope that appears in Rachel's hand.
"It's my letter from NYADA," Rachel tells her, as she moves back to the bed, settling right in front of
Quinn. "It's basically the trajectory of my entire life in this envelope, and I - I - "
"Hey," Quinn says. "It's okay. Whatever it says, it's going to be okay."
Rachel fiddles with the letter in her lap. "I've been so worried," she says. "I didn't want to hope, given
how terribly my audition could have gone."
Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, because anything less than perfect would have been disastrous for
Rachel. "I've always believed in you."
"I know," Rachel says, eyes meeting Quinn's. "That's why I want you here when I open it."
Quinn is tempted to ask if she wouldn't rather be with her fathers, but there's something in her gaze that
stops her. So, Quinn just nods, and Rachel uses it as a prompt to do the deed.
Quinn isn't even worried. She already knows what the letter's going to say, and she's not wrong. She just
watches as Rachel reads the words, her eyes skimming until she finds the all important decision on her future.
Quinn isn't ready for what happens next. Rachel stares at her, and then at the letter, and then at her again.
A beat passes, and then Rachel is tossing the letter aside and launching herself at Quinn, as if she's just
remembered Quinn's shirt is still unbuttoned.
Well.
Rachel doesn't need to tell her what the letter says, based on the way she devours every inch of Quinn on
which she can get her hands and mouth.
In fact, neither of them says a word, at all.

It all falls apart on a Wednesday.

For Quinn, at least, who, beyond actually falling in love with her best friend, does the equally disastrous
thing and tells her.
In Quinn's defence, it's not entirely her fault. Quinn thinks people should be offered a blanket 'that didn't
just happen' over things said in the throes of ecstasy. Like, perhaps calling out someone else's name, or,
maybe, you know, inadvertently revealing the extent of your feelings for someone you know you shouldn't.
But, it happens.
Rachel is panting in her ear, fingers moving inside of her, their breasts pressed together, and Quinn's
brain is a delightful haze as her orgasm builds, the muscles in her abdomen tightening in anticipation of
release.
Then Rachel is saying, "That's it," right into her ear, her voice raspy and purposeful. "Just like that," she
says. "Quinn, baby, come for me."
And Quinn does, her body arching with the strength of it, her heart pounding in her chest. Her skin is
slick with sweat as shudders ripple through her, all before she collapses on her bed, boneless.
Rachel removes her fingers, rolling a little to the side, and licks them clean. Quinn will blame that visual
for her temporary insanity. There's really no other reason for it.
Her brain is still a little foggy, but she knows she says, "I love you," somewhat tiredly, because even she
can't forget the way Rachel's body tenses against her.
Quinn can't decide if it is a mercy or a cruelty that Rachel says absolutely nothing in response.
As it is, it all falls apart on a Wednesday.

The smart thing would be to talk about it, which is really why Quinn's ends up avoiding Rachel, instead.
It's childish, she knows, but she's embarrassed and hurt in a way she was unprepared for. She thought she
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 knew how it would feel, but she was wrong. It's so much worse than that, and her heart can barely handle it.
She should have known Rachel wouldn't allow her a reprieve. She makes it only two and a half days
before Rachel catches her in the locker room after Cheerio practice on Saturday, and she's pretty sure she
resembles something like a deer caught in the headlights.
She has no way to escape.
Rachel stands, hands on her hips as she stares Quinn down. It's odd; just how much taller she seems as
she stands there, eyes hard in a way that makes Quinn want to disappear into the floor.
"You're avoiding me," Rachel says, and Quinn doesn't have the heart to deny that truth. It's another thing
that would be pointless.
Like this conversation.
"Why?" Rachel asks.
Quinn is definitely not going to answer that. It's already a bitter enough pill to swallow without adding
on this conversation.
"Why, Quinn?" Rachel asks pointedly. "What happened? Is this about NYADA?"
"What?" Quinn asks, eyes wide. "No."
"Then what? What is it?" she asks, her voice shaking. "Why are you doing this?"
Quinn looks away, unable to put it into words. "Rachel," she breathes. "You already know why I'm doing
this."
Rachel just continues to stare at her, eyes searching. "Quinn," she says, and there's something desperate
in her voice that rips through Quinn. "Please."
Quinn says nothing. What's the point of talking about it, anyway? It won't make a difference. How do
they even get back what they've lost? Can they even get back to 'just friends' after all this? Would Quinn even
be able to?
And, what about Finn? Quinn doesn't think she could handle hearing Rachel confirming that she's
always going to take him back... after their break, or whatever.
"Quinn?" Rachel tries again, and then attempts to close the distance between them.
"No," Quinn says immediately, taking a step back and holding out her hands to stop her approach. "We -
we can't do this anymore."
This.
Whatever this is.
Rachel freezes in place, her facial expression shifting through several emotions before she settles on
confusion. "Why?" she asks again. "Why, Quinn? Because, from where I'm standing, it's obvious that's not
really what you want."
"Does it even matter that I want?" she asks, exhausted with whatever this is.
"Quinn."
She shakes her head. "Stop acting like you don't know what this is about," she snaps. "I know you heard
me."
Rachel's mouth slams shut.
Quinn lets out a dark laugh. "What are we even doing, Rachel?" she asks. "What are we, huh? Just
friends? With benefits? Fuck buddies?"
Rachel flinches at the sound of those words.
"See! You don't even know!" Quinn accuses. "What I do know is I'm the idiot that decided to develop
feelings, and then did the even more idiotic thing and actually told you." She shakes her head at herself. "I
also know I want more than this; more than whatever we've been doing."
Rachel opens her mouth, but immediately closes it.
"I want more," Quinn says, just putting it out there. "From you and from this, and I don't even know if
that's something I can ask from you, and it is killing me. You are killing me, because I - you - we never talk
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 about anything, and I don't even know where you stand." She pauses. "Well, I mean, I guess I do."
"Quinn, that's not - "
"Please don't say anything to patronise me," Quinn interrupts. "I know you're still doing whatever you're
doing with Finn, and I - "
"Finn and I aren't doing anything," Rachel interrupts right back. "We're over. We have been for months. I
thought you knew that."
Somehow, that just makes it worse. Finn can't even be an excuse, anymore. "Well, that changes
nothing," Quinn says, defeated. "You've had two days to say it back. You've had two days to say anything at
all."
"Quinn, I didn't - "
"I'm sorry," Quinn suddenly says. "I'm sorry, okay? At first, it was just what it was, and that was always
fine, but - but it's no longer enough, and I want more, so I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Rachel reaches out a hand to touch her, but Quinn backs away.
"I told you how I feel," Quinn says, her voice trembling. "And you said nothing. So, I just - I need some
time, okay? I know I've been avoiding you, but it's necessary for me. For now. I'll get over it, but I can't do
that if I'm around you. Can you give me that? Please."
When Rachel says nothing in response, Quinn uses the opportunity to grab her bag, shut her locker and
move past the brunette with the intention of getting some place where she can break down in private.
She barely even makes it to the door.
"You're an idiot."
Quinn freezes, breathes deeply, and then turns around. "Yes," she says; "I think we've already
established that."
"No," Rachel says. "You're being an idiot right now."
Quinn frowns. "What?"
"You - you don't just get to walk away," Rachel says. "We're finally talking, okay? We're talking, and I
know we should have talked about it long before this moment, but we're here now, and you don't just get to
walk away."
"What do you want from me?" Quinn asks, her voice strained.
"Nothing you don't want to give me."
"What?"
"Why would you think it was any different for me?" Rachel asks, and Quinn has never been more
confused in her life. "Why would you think I would want anything different?"
"What?"
Rachel shakes her head. "I know this started as... well, to be honest, I don't even know what it started as,
but you have to know I never would have let it get this far if I didn't feel the same way."
Quinn's confusion is expounded, because Rachel is definitely not saying what she thinks she's saying.
There's no way.
"God," Rachel says; "why do you always look like you're surprised that anyone could feel the same way
about you?"
Because she is.
"What do you need me to say?" Rachel asks, sounding irritated and frustrated all of a sudden. "You're
really cute and it is ruining my life, because I think about kissing you all the time!" Rachel practically shouts,
and Quinn's eyes snap towards her.
"What?"
"God, Quinn," Rachel says, exasperated. "You're so damn lost in your own head that you can barely see
what's happening right in front of you."
"What are you talking about?"
:
 Rachel scoffs. "What am I talking about," she echoes. "You - you have been creating all this drama in
your head because you can't even accept that someone would want you right back. That someone could love
you, too."
Quinn blinks slowly. "What?"
"How - how could you think it was just sex?" Rachel asks, and her voice is low; hurt. "We have never
been just sex. Never been just friends, and we sure as hell have never been fuck buddies."
Quinn is still stuck on what she said before, her heart suddenly racing. What did - surely she didn't -
"We have always been more," Rachel declares, and there's a finality to her voice that should terrify
Quinn, but her brain is still focused on -
"Wait," Quinn says, blinking repeatedly. "You love me? Too?"
"Yes, Quinn, I love you, too," Rachel confirms with a single, decisive nod. "I have for a while."
Quinn frowns. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Rachel drops her gaze. "I was worried I would scare you off if I did," she confesses to the ground.
"You've always looked at me like you don't believe anything that's happening is actually happening. Your
eyes wide and beautiful, half-expecting everything just to end."
"I was terrified it would," Quinn admits; "if ever we actually talked about it."
"We're talking about it right now," Rachel says. "Months overdue, apparently, but, goodness, Quinn,
how could you not know I want you just as badly?"
Quinn shrinks a little. "I don't know," she whispers. "Nobody's ever just wanted me for me." She
breathes deeply. "Puck just wanted me for the sex, so he could brag about taking my virginity, and Finn
wanted me for my popularity, both times. Sam was some of the same in the beginning. I just - nobody wants
just me."
"I do," Rachel says as simply as possible. "God, I want you. All the time. I want to kiss you and touch
you and talk to you. I want to date you and show you off and buy you random gifts and hide notes in your
locker and bring you flowers just because I want to. I want to be with you, Quinn. I want to have sex with
you, like every day, and I want your arms around me when I wake up each morning. I want to call you my
gorgeous girlfriend and know that people are burning with jealousy that I get to be the one who gets to claim
you. I want you, Quinn. I want all of you and all of it, and I need to know if you want it too."
Quinn is silent, just staring at her as the words replay on a loop in her head.
Rachel shifts her feet, awkward and tense. "Quinn, please feel free to say something," she says. "Any
time, really."
Quinn takes another moment, and then waves Rachel closer. "Come here," she says.
"What?"
"Come here, so I can kiss you," Quinn says. "And tell you I love you and want exactly what you want.
All of it. I want everything. Even more than that. Just, will you come here already?"
Rachel watches her carefully for a moment, and then she smiles, wide and knowing. "Ask nicely."
And, Quinn laughs, this happy, carefree thing. She wastes little time crossing the space between them,
dumping her bag on the floor. Her heart is pounding in her chest from just how happy she is.
She's happy.
And in love.
And, apparently, also totally still powerless to Rachel Berry.
"Please."

Fin
Close (#)
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