I made it:)
Rachel was tired. Bone deep, soul aching, illness inducing, oh my god is the room spinning, unable to form coherent sentences for long periods of time, give me coffee now even though it’s bad for your vocal chords exhausted. This had been going on for neigh on a month, but it still astounded her whenever she had two seconds of free time in a row to think about it. Having been waking up at six am sharp or earlier to work out for eight years, in addition to her extremely healthy diet, she was used to a state of boundless energy. She’d practically been famous for it, among those people who could actually see past the apparent annoying aspects of it. She missed it unendurably. But her boundless energy had been bound by New York. It figured really. The things you love most are the things that can cut you the deepest, or some crap like that. There was probably even a song about it, if she could be half arsed to sort through her mental playlist. Which at this moment she could not.
It had begun as soon as she returned to school from Thanksgiving break to the news that she had made it into the brand new, highly prestigious mini-company she’d auditioned for on a whim back in the summer just before school had begun. A select group of ten girls, ten boys, five understudies of each sex that doubles as crew members, two light techs, a band of set designers, one sound man, a costume designer, a choreographer, her voice teacher as musical director, and finally the head of the musical theater department as director, it was an interdisciplinary project, and one of the biggest Tisch had attempted to put together in the last decade. Rachel knew how good it would look on her resume. But in order to be a part of the company one had to commit to two out of the four one act shows or revues they would be putting on a semester, and rehearsals had begun right away for the December show, their premiere, a revue of shows about overcoming adversity, which was supposed to be poetic or something.
Seven three hour rehearsals a week, in addition to the intermittent one’s for her small production of Guy’s and Doll’s(which thankfully would not heat up for another couple of day’s), plus finals, plus her job at the diner, plus the extra set of dance and vocal lessons she was required to take to fulfill her major, plus the post show, mandatory cast wide trip to the wretched mountains of upstate New York for bonding or some such tripe she’d been forced to attend for the past week added up to the fact that she was currently lying on the floor of her mess of a one room apartment. There were probably a million reasons why she should not be lying on the floor, starting with the state and smell of the carpet and ending with the fact that her couch bed was a mere two feet away, but she couldn’t actually find it in herself to care. It was all over. For the next three days, she would have some semblance of peace. Trudging through the door with her bags in tow after the ten hour drive down from the mountains, it had hit her.
Four weeks. It had been four weeks since she’d seen Noah, the boy who she considered the brother she’d never had. Four weeks since she’d seen Santana and Brittany, two people she was beginning to consider good friends. And most importantly, four weeks since she’d properly seen Quinn, the girl whom she was rapidly falling in llll… llll….. something with, if the ache in her chest and the tall blonde shaped hole in her heart was any indication. The mountains had been virtually devoid of cell phone reception, so it had been a week since she’d even communicated with the girl.
Summoning up some Herculean strength from somewhere, Rachel dragged herself up onto the couch so as not to appear as pathetic as she felt. With bleary eye’s she typed out a message on her cell phone to the one person she knew would make her feel better.
Hey stranger. Guess who just got home and is not planning to leave her apartment for the next three days? Please come visit me. I will grovel for your forgiveness for being so busy if required. I miss you so much my heart hurts.
XO Rae
With a yawn she laid her phone next to her head on the pillow, where hopefully she would hear it if it rung and closed her eyes, intending to nap as she had been up for the last twenty four hours. She didn’t know what Quinn’s schedule looked like. She had no idea what the blonde had been up to. She’d been a horrible girlfriend(?) but she planned to try and rectify that. She just hoped the beautiful blonde would answer her request.
It’s been a good weekend
But… But Brittany…. It’s New York City…. Why would you not want to spend every second you could outside?
I completely forgot about this.
Guess what’s been playing on my ipod for the last two and a half hours.
“Not at all,” Quinn admitted. She wasn’t an object, she didn’t belong to anyone other than herself, but the idea of being Rachel’s didn’t bother her. Not right now, with their fingers interlocked and Rachel looking as perfect as she did. Rachel made her feel safe and sane and… the opposite of sober, though she hadn’t had a drop to drink since the last time with Santana. If she was going to panic about needing the little diva, like she had when Sam had taken her into that astronomy classroom in high school, she could do it later. But Quinn didn’t think she would.
She nodded at the question. Yes, she was on a first name basis with the chef. Michael Merida was a friend of a friend, and Quinn had no qualms about using her connections. “You’re not the only one who knows how to network.”
The waiter came by before Quinn had the chance to respond with what she was deciding between, and she let Rachel put in her drink order first before ordering a mineral water for herself and telling him that they’d need more time. The way Rachel assumed she’d be eating meat actually made the blonde feel guilty, even if that wasn’t Rachel’s intention. She couldn’t deny it though. At least she wasn’t ordering the strip steak, which was, frankly, just about too good to pass up. “Old habits die hard. I’m thinking I’ll go with the salmon.”
Quinn was only the slightest bit concerned about the dinner small talk that time and too many movies had made her feel would inevitably come next. She didn’t like small talk. It was pointless, and was anyone actually interested in discussing the weather? No. It occurred to her that they hadn’t had a small talk problem before, and thinking back on their previous meal together was enough to mostly abate her nerves.
Rachel’s ears perked up at the mention of one of her favorite activities and she looked up from her menu. “That is…” Seriously hot “a very important life skill.” Rachel, I believe the correct colloquialism in this instance would be *headdesk* “I am suitably impressed.”
She was feeling a little adventurous tonight and so she ordered cranberry juice instead of her usual water with lemon, reasoning that her vocal chords would not dry up because of one meal. And, perhaps more importantly, if any should spill her dress was red enough to cover it up. Her father’s liked to say that she had a hole in her lip and that was why she spilled her drinks on herself so often, but she knew that tonight it would not be the fault of the mythical aperture, but the girl in front of her and her darned disarming beauty/charm/wit/take your pick. “Mmmm. Well that is one habit that doesn’t actually have to die. I’ve told you, you’re on a date with the most meat friendly vegan you will ever meet. I think I’m going to go with the sun dried tomato pesto.”
If Quinn would have voiced her small fear about small talk, Rachel probably would have laughed in her face. If there was one thing Rachel Berry was good at, it was talking. She would start out small though. The big stuff could wait until dessert, at least. As they waited for the waiter to come back for their orders, Rachel sat her elbows on the table, sorry Miss Manners, and put her chin in her hands. ”I’m really glad you asked me on this date Quinn. I was beginning to think I was in for a couple of years of long hard pining after you.” Whoops. So much for small talk.
“Of course I don’t mind, I just offered.” Quinn responded with a smile and a laugh, and went to see what she had in her pajama drawer. Old Cheerios and McKinley Physical Education t-shirts and a bunch of random pairs of shorts that matched. She was dying just thinking about Rachel’s legs, Rachel in her clothes… Thank whoever that she had her back turned to the other girl so she had a second to regain her composure. She gripped the drawer tightly for a moment and took a breath before she turned back around and tossed a shirt to Rachel. “You okay in shorts? I think I have a pair of sweats in my duffel.”
Rachel took a moment to calm down, and admire the view of Quinn’s backside but that was besides the point. “Hm? Yeah sure, shorts are fine. I actually usually don’t sleep with pants on but…” Hello foot, meet mouth. “Um, yeah, shorts are fine.”
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
She kicked off her shoes, because she’d be damned if they went anywhere near her bedspread, though she refrained from setting them in a neat line like usual, because Rachel Berry was in her bed right now. That was a damn good reason not to worry about her shoes. Quinn perched on the edge of her bed for a moment as she had a thought. “Do you want to borrow something to sleep in? I mean, you look- you’re hotter than hell in that dress, Rae, but you can’t be comfortable.”
Oh there was the blush. She’d missed it tonight, and welcomed it as an old friend. “Y-ye-,” She paused to clear her throat, feeling slightly ridiculous that she hadn’t actually thought of that. “Yes, if you don’t mind, I would like that.” Seeing that Quinn had divested herself of her shoes, Rachel toed her own off and brought her knees up to her chin.
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
“Thanks,” the sarcasm in her tone was lighter than usual. She was surprised she managed any at all, after being in contact with Rachel’s lips. It made it very hard for her to think straight. Pun not intended. Quinn laughed, “Bed’s big enough for two,” not even considering the possible implications, she pulled away from Rachel and went to hit the lamp after all.
Quinn’s words echoed around in Rachel’s head for a second. Then, as Quinn moved toward the lamp, Rachel moved towards the bed. “It certainly is.” She bit off another ramble before it could materialize and ran a hand along the bedspread. Soft. For the second time that night, but maybe not the last Rachel bit her lip, told the tiny scared voice inside her head to shut up, and climbed to the middle of Quinn’s bed.
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
And Quinn had thought her nerves were bad. She kissed Rachel just to shut her up, not because she didn’t enjoy the babbling, but because why not? “You’re cute,” She told her, with an eskimo kiss for emphasis. She hadn’t hit the light yet, because she knew the room like the back of her hand, and more importantly she wanted to hit the lamp instead of the overhead light, but she didn’t want to be apart from Rachel.
She was cute? That was not something she usually heard after a ramble. But she was learning to be surprised by Quinn. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She returned Quinn’s kiss with enthusiasm, but broke it to let out a yawn.
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
Quinn laughed, “There’s a lamp, but downstairs isn’t important.” Her breath caught at the question, and she mentally chastised herself. Logically her room was the best place for them, wasn’t it? That’s all Rachel meant, right? The little head tilt was confusing, but endearing. “Come on,” she instructed, and took Rachel’s hand again to lead her up the stairs and down the hall.
Her door was shut, and her “don’t wait up” note was still attached the the front, so Quinn pulled it off and tossed it into the little can that was just inside her door. “Ma chambre,” she announced, in French, because she was feeling a little tipsy again for no apparent reason.
Rachel’s heart thudded in her chest so loudly she was slightly afraid Quinn would be able to hear it. Quinn’s little burst of French was equal part’s funny and arousing, which was ridiculous because normally Rachel hated French. Cautiously she stepped inside the room, her eyes immediately alighting on the bed. Her buzz was back.
She hoped her nervousness didn’t maifest itself in her usual way… too late. “This is quite a nice roo Quinn. Big, roomy. Oh look there’s a bed. I mean obviously there would be a bed. You wouldn’t sleep on the floor, that’d be terrible for your back, you’d have rickets by the time you were twenty and that would be really sad. Uh, what I mean tot say is that it’s a nice bed. I mean, um, wall paper. i like your… wall paper?”
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
Quinn reached into Rachel’s pocket - which was really her pocket - and fumbled with her keys for a moment before she found the right one. It wasn’t the alcohol, it was the nerves. This was Rachel’s first time in her house, and it might have been immaculate, but it wasn’t like she’d planned this visit. Not to mention Quinn had no idea what was happening next. Rachel was waiting until she was 25 or had a Tony to have sex, and Quinn was going to respect that. Wait, sex? They’d just officially started dating like a week ago. Her thoughts needed to chill.
“Welcome to the Fabray Estate,” She said sarcastically, pushing open the door and letting Rachel in before her.
Rachel stepped through the door into the foyer a few steps and looked around, nodding appreciatively. Somewhere inside she recognized how cool it was that this was the first time she’d ever seen Quinn’s house. “It’s very… dark. But I’m sure it’s very nice in the light.” But the rest of her was more preoccupied with other things. Taking a shaky breath, she turned to face Quinn who was by the door. Taking the bull by the horns, she cocked her head in what she hoped was an endearing and not at all nervous gesture. “So where’s your room?”
(Source: newyorktanalopez)
