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quinn-jfc · 1 month ago

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Through the Thick and Thin—Faberry (1/1)

WHO: Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry

WHEN: Tuesday, August 3, 2021

WHERE: New York, NY

WHAT: After making several major changes, Quinn finds herself slipping into a manic episode, and Rachel does her best to help.

QUINN: Quinn rustles through the cabinets of her and Rachel's apartment. She can't remember what she's looking for anymore, and that makes her all the more frustrated.

Breathe, she reminds herself.

But it's hard.

Slender fingers run through dyed brunette locks as Quinn scrunches her face.

Rachel. She could help. But she's not home right now. And Quinn can't call her. Her show is happening.

A sharp inhale. I don't need help. I just need a walk.

And with that, Quinn grabs her purse and walks out into the warm summer night.

RACHEL: The thunder of applause after the final note of a heart wrenching ballad never fails to give Rachel a thrill—even with scene-appropriate tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s a strange juxtaposition of emotions, to feel the high of a great performance mudge out the low of her character’s heartbreak.

She’s a consummate professional, however, so when the spotlight dims and the curtain closes on Act I, she hurries off the stage with tears already drying. She jerks down her suspenders as she walks, beginning to work loose the buttons of her shirt before she even makes it to her dressing room. She both loves and hates Idgie’s wardrobe for this show. There’s no denying the pants and button-downs are the comfiest costumes she’s ever worn, but they somehow take longer to get in and out of than the dresses. Luckily, she only has a few major changes to deal with.

She comes to a stop in front of her makeup table, shirt gaping open, and automatically checks her phone for any important messages.

There are none.

Rachel bites into her lip, wondering if she should text Quinn. They’ve been living together for four months now, and her new show has been open for one. She doesn’t feel the obsessive need to check in with her girlfriend every single day she’s at the theater—she doesn’t!—but Quinn had seemed a little stressed this morning before she’d left for work.

Giving into her basic impulse, she picks up her phone.

Hey, baby. Thinking of you. I’ll be home to collect my goodnight kiss in a few hours.

QUINN: A vibration against Quinn's thigh makes her pause in her steps. She fishes her phone out of her pocket then, seeing a text from Rachel.

A few hours is all Quinn sees before blinking and shoving her phone back into her pocket irritably.

Her thoughts are racing to nowhere, and she just wants them to shut up right now. Rachel usually helps quiet them, but waiting feels like torture and she can't seem to focus on anything.

Letting her feet carry her, Quinn's eyes eventually catch on the lights of a small pub.

Maybe a drink will help sort things out, she thinks, before heading inside.

RACHEL: Rachel doesn’t get an immediate response to her text.

It’s not completely unusual.

She doesn’t expect Quinn to check her own phone every minute, but it’s one of the agreed upon points in their Wellness and Emergency Plan that they do check messages often and make an effort to respond to one another as soon as they can.

Rachel can’t exactly spend the entire length of the intermission staring at her phone. She does need to change into Idgie’s Act II costume and touch up her stage makeup. But when ten of the fifteen allotted minutes have passed and Quinn still hasn’t responded, Rachel feels a nervous flutter take flight in her belly.

She thinks back to that morning again. Quinn had been obsessing over some little design flaw on a book jacket, pacing around the kitchen rather than sitting down to have breakfast with Rachel. Rachel had mostly attributed it to stress over hitting her deadline, but she wonders if it might be more.

It’s probably nothing.

She hopes it’s nothing.

Still—

With less than five minutes to hit her mark, she fires off an SOS text to both Kaitlyn and Blaine, asking them to check in with Quinn.

Just in case.

QUINN: Quinn downs a double whiskey, neat, hoping it will calm her nerves and the swirling thoughts in her head.

It doesn't, so she orders another.

As she takes a sip, she feels another vibration in her pocket, but can't seem to bring herself to pull out her phone.

Quinn quickly finishes her drink and promptly orders another.

RACHEL: Rachel drums her fingers nervously against her thigh on the way to the stage. She knows she needs to focus on her performance, but she can’t seem to shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

Stagehands and backup dancers shuffle around in her periphery, but she pays them little attention. Her gaze seeks out Stephanie, perfectly costumed in 1920’s attire. She’s never been more grateful that the showrunners had finally agreed to audition her. It had only taken one scene opposite Rachel for them to realize they’d found their Ruth.

When Stephanie notices Rachel making a beeline for her, her typical grin—the one that says ‘we’re killing it tonight’—instantly fades. Her friend knows her too well.

“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, no trace of her usual carefree banter.

Rachel only shakes her head. “Maybe nothing,” she attempts, mostly hoping to convince herself. “Just a weird feeling. Quinn didn’t answer my text at intermission,” she admits quietly.

A look of understanding passes over Stephanie’s face, and she takes Rachel’s hand with a reassuring squeeze. “That’s not an automatic bad omen. Did you call in backup?”

Rachel gives a single, curt nod, forcing a wan smile. She has to trust that Kaitlyn and/or Blaine will follow up with Quinn, but, “I may need you to cover if I miss a cue.”

“I got your back, Lima,” Stephanie promises, tugging her into a quick side hug before the overture fades and they both need to hit their marks.

QUINN: The din of the pub is doing nothing to take off the edge Quinn is on, and the buzz she feels from the alcohol isn't helping either.

"Can I get you something to eat?"

Quinn realizes the bartender—a pretty redhead with an Irish brogue—is talking to her. Food is the last thing she wants right now.

"No thanks," she replies, tone clipped. "Another whiskey."

"Coming right up, love," the bartender answers, taking the now empty glass and pouring a fresh one, along with a glass of water.

Another vibration goes off in Quinn's pocket just as she takes a long sip of whiskey.

Shaking her head, Quinn reluctantly puts down her drink and pulls out her phone. There are two texts awaiting her—one from Kaitlyn and one from Blaine. Both are similar in nature, wanting to know if everything is okay.

It's not okay, but Quinn doesn't know why or how to make everything just stop.

"Oh damn, girl, hey," sounds a flirtatious voice. Quinn grits her teeth as her eyes cut to an unwelcome intrusion sitting in the previously vacant seat beside her. "What's a pretty thing like you doing here alone?"

It's a loaded question.

RACHEL: Fried Green Tomatoes is, as Santana had pointed out so many months ago, something of a downer. It’s touching and emotional and a beautiful love story between two women amidst adversity, but it certainly doesn’t have a happy ending. It’s bittersweet at best, so the extra bit of angst that bleeds through Rachel’s performance tonight plays well for her character.

She wishes she could say the same for her nerves.

It’s all she can do to ignore them and get through the rest of the show.

A mental checklist takes form in her mind, and she ticks off every scene and song and step until the curtains finally close and she can get home to Quinn.

QUINN: The unwanted stranger next to Quinn smiles in a way that makes her want to put her fist through perfect, white teeth.

She blinks then, almost frightened by how quickly that feeling surged through her.

She needs to leave.

Abruptly standing, Quinn goes to reach for her purse, still aware she has to pay something. She doesn't know how much. It doesn't matter.

I need to go home, suddenly takes root in her mind.

And then an unwelcomed hand clasps down on her right shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart? You didn't even tell me your name."

Heart rate spikes and hackles rise.

RACHEL: Rachel has never been happier to take her final bow.

It’s a miracle that she didn’t make any major mistakes—just a few stuttered lines and a mild stumble during one of the musical numbers.

When the curtain finally closes for the last time, Rachel hurries off the stage. Stephanie keeps step at her shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll wow ‘em at the stage door tonight so you can skip out and check in with your lady. I’m sure it’ll all be fine, but keep me in the loop, huh?”

Rachel manages a weak smile, grasping at Stephanie’s hand in gratitude. “I will. Thanks for covering my flubbs out there.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes. “Please. Like you didn’t still upstage the rest of us, little flubbs included.”

The compliment manages to warm Rachel’s heart even through the lingering unease, and she’s more than grateful that her friend is willing to make excuses for her to her potentially disappointed fans. The show might be leaving audiences in tears, but it hasn’t dulled any of the excitement in the crowds that still gather, hoping for a peek of their favorite performer and an autographed program.

When they part ways, Rachel speeds to her dressing room and lunges for her phone, praying to see a text from Quinn.

QUINN: Quinn chuckles lowly. "My name?"

"Russell," she says then, shoving his hand off her shoulder and moving back. "Russell Fabray."

He blinks in confusion.

"What, not a pretty enough name for such a pretty thing?" she sneers, adrenaline pumping through her veins, fingers clenching around her phone.

RACHEL: There’s no message from Quinn.

The competing texts from Kaitlyn and Blaine both say the same worrisome thing. Quinn hasn’t responded to either one of them either. And even more alarming—Blaine had stopped by their apartment, but Quinn hadn’t been home.

Rachel’s stomach bottoms out.

She’s never changed so quickly in her life.

Her fingers fumble with the family tracking app on her phone as she races from the theater.

QUINN: "Damn, okay, you a little freaky. I can get down with that," he replies with a wicked smile that makes Quinn snap.

"Get fucked," she practically spits, her rage rising at an alarming rate.

Blue eyes narrow then. "What's your problem, bitch?"

Oh, now he's done it.

"You have no idea," she sneers, baring her teeth and tightening her hold on her phone.

She feels the last vestiges of self control start to slip.

RACHEL: Rachel glares at her phone screen as she slams out the side door of the theater—the one most theater-goers don’t know exists. She can’t be bothered to multitask between multiple phone apps to call an Uber while she also tries to call Quinn. It’s bad enough that the fucking app that’s supposed to tell her where Quinn is right now can’t seem to make up its mind what nondescript location to show her. The little icon that symbolizes her girlfriend keeps glitching back and forth between intersections on the map and it honestly looks like she’s close enough to their god-damned apartment to be there.

Maybe she is.

Maybe she’d just gone out to get dinner or something and left her phone on silent or forgot it at home all together.

Maybe Rachel is spiraling into panic for nothing.

Temporarily giving up on the app, she hits Quinn’s contact on her phone, hoping an actual phone call from Rachel will get her attention.

QUINN: Quinn's aware of the pulsation against her palm then, but not enough to stop her seeing red.

"Is there a problem here?" the bartender cuts in then.

Yes, Quinn thinks. This, him, her, this pub, and everything else.

Her phone continues to vibrate, and it takes everything in her not to throw it at this stupid prick's head.

Taking a shaky breath, Quinn breaks her gaze from stormy blue and looks toward the bartender, green eyes filled with concern.

The vibration in her hand momentarily stops.

"I was just leaving," she manages to get out before throwing $200 on the bar.

RACHEL: When her call goes to voicemail, Rachel jerks the phone back to stare at it incredulously before bringing the speaker close to her mouth with a growl.

“Lucy Quinn Fabray, you had better call me back this instant.”

The panic spiral begins anew.

She checks her tracker again, noticing that the little icon that represents Blaine appears to be only a block or so away from Quinn on the map. His last message had indicated that he planned to check a few of the local markets and restaurants around their apartment, since he’s included in their family group along with Kaitlyn and Kurt.

Unfortunately, the GPS on their phones always seems to have a margin of error in pinpointing an exact location.

The timestamp on Blaine’s message is only about thirty minutes ago.

She fires off a text to him to tell him she’s on her way to the nearest intersection and determinedly flags down the nearest yellow taxi.

QUINN: Quinn storms out of the bar then, not looking back, her body shaking with anger and adrenaline, and breaths uneven.

She blinks as the cooling night air hits her face, and her phone vibrates again. Shit, she thinks, seeing missed calls and voicemail, specifically the one from Rachel.

Needing to keep moving, Quinn's feet pound the pavement away from the pub as she manages to call her girlfriend and presses her phone against her ear.

RACHEL: Rachel is in the back of a taxi, reading Blaine’s latest text stating that he still hasn’t had any luck, when her phone vibrates and Quinn’s name finally appears. Practically sighing in relief, she answers immediately.

She attempts to keep her voice as calm as possible, but she can still hear the mild desperation in it.

“Quinn, baby. Where are you?”

QUINN: Quinn can hear the worry in Rachel's voice, and guilt starts to swirl along with her already heady mix of emotions.

"Walking," she says after a beat. "I shouldn't have," she continues, unease swirling. "I thought it would help. But nothing's helping," she finishes, tears stinging hazel eyes then.

RACHEL: It’s a bitter confirmation that Quinn has slipped into an episode, and Rachel had failed to recognize the signs in time to get ahead of it.

“Baby. Listen to me. I’m on my way to you right now. We can get you something that will help. But I need you to stop walking and tell me exactly where you are. Can you do that for me?”

QUINN: Rachel's voice is like an anchor, and Quinn halts her steps. "Okay, yeah, yes," she agrees uneasily, eyes darting around, trying to determine exactly where she is.

"I'm on 82nd near 2nd Ave," she confirms, the past hour playing on a loop in her mind along with everything she felt. Then, after a beat, she grits out, "I'm sorry, Rachel. I don't know what's wrong with me."

RACHEL: “Hey, hey. There’s nothing to apologize for,” Rachel promises, putting a pin in any discussion about Quinn circumventing their emergency plan until a later date. Right now, all that matters is making sure she’s in a safe place until they can get her the help she needs. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

She juggles her phone as she talks, determined to get her girlfriend through this and not fuck it all up even more than she already has. She manages to text Blaine the intersection that Quinn had given her, hoping that her friend is still close enough to get to her quickly and keep her grounded until Rachel can get to them.

“I’ll be there before you know it, but in the meantime, I think Blaine is pretty close by. Maybe he can keep you company while you wait for me?”

QUINN: Unconsciously, Quinn starts looking for Blaine. He's no Rachel, but he has become a good friend who understands her illness, and maybe he can help. The thought calms her just a little, but she's still ready to crawl out of her skin.

"Okay," Quinn replies before lamenting, "I shouldn't have left. If I had just stayed..."

She realizes then she's not just talking about leaving the apartment tonight, drinking too many whiskeys, and nearly getting into a fight. It's leaving her old job and the Flight Crew, even if the commute to Jersey was too much. Everything feels out of control.

RACHEL: “Stay now,” Rachel responds, cringing mildly at how much it sounds like a command she’d give a dog. “Blaine will find you soon.”

She hopes.

Rachel presses her palm over the speaker of the phone as she calls up to the driver. “Excuse me, can you change my drop off to 82nd and 2nd?” It’s only a few blocks off of where she’d already instructed him to take her.

His eyes briefly meet hers in the rearview mirror and he grunts out a gruff, “Yeah,” and Rachel manages a tight smile of gratitude before fully returning her attention to Quinn.

QUINN: It's then that sees a familiar figure in a tan jacket walking toward her. "Blaine," Quinn breathes out shakily.

"Quinn," he greets warmly, but the relief and worry in his eyes are obvious. "I'm glad I found you. I've been looking for you."

Quinn grimaces, her guilt growing, before offering Blaine a weak smile.

"Rachel, Blaine's with me now," she says into her phone.

RACHEL: A wave of relief crashes over Rachel.

“That’s good, baby.” At least Quinn has someone with her that she can trust.

Rachel glances out the window of the taxi, searching the backlit storefronts that pass by to get a sense of the car’s progress.. “I’m still about ten minutes away,” she guesses, and she mentally curses the distance and the late night traffic between Midtown and Yorkville.

“Do you want to stay on the phone with me until I get there? Or do you think you want to talk to Blaine for a bit?”

QUINN: Blaine watches Quinn thoughtfully as she tells Rachel, "I'll talk to Blaine. Please get here soon. I need you."

Rachel tells her that she loves her and will be there soon. It's a small measure of relief. Reluctantly, Quinn hangs up the phone and tucks it away before turning her attention—well as much as she can, with all the afflictions in her mind—to Blaine.

"I'm sorry," she offers, wondering how long he's been out looking for her. "I didn't mean to ignore your texts."

"It's okay," he assures her with a friendly smile. "I'm just happy I'm with you now. I take it you're having a rough night."

Rough night, rough day, and too many weeks of ignoring the festering mania bubbling up until it started to rear its ugly head.

"You could say that," she admits somewhat shamefully.

Blaine nods in understanding. He gets it—more than most of the people in her life, save Rachel and Kaitlyn. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," she replies tightly, remembering the pub and how close she was to decking that insufferable dick. Then things really would have spiraled.

"Okay," he says agreeably. "I think Rachel should be here soon, and then we'll get you home, okay?"

Quinn's fingers tighten their hold on the straps of her purse as she nods.

RACHEL: After the call disconnects, Rachel remembers to text Kaitlyn to let her know that Quinn is found and safe—physically anyway.

She doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with her girlfriend, but she suspects it has something to do with her new job. She’s basically starting over from scratch with a new boss and new coworkers, and Rachel knows how stressful that can be. But Quinn had been so certain the daily commute back to New Jersey would be moreso.

Rubbing at her forehead, Rachel attempts to stave off the tears that are threatening to fall. If Quinn is struggling more than she’s let on, then Rachel can’t help feeling responsible for missing it.

Maybe Santana had been right. Maybe Rachel with her erratic schedule isn't what Quinn needs to keep her healthy.

QUINN: The sidewalk thankfully isn't busy, and for a few moments, Quinn and Blaine stand together quietly, Quinn trying to quiet her mind.

"Everything feels all mixed up," she admits then. "I wish..."

Blaine gazes at her sympathetically. "I know, Quinn. But whatever is going on in your head isn't your fault."

"I know, I just hate this feeling," she explains, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Why does this keep happening? I'm taking my medicine."

"I wish I knew, but I'm here for you. And Rachel too."

Just then, a yellow taxi pulls up alongside them.

RACHEL: Rachel’s well developed sixth sense allows her to recognize Quinn and Blaine bathed in neon and streetlights well before they reach the exact intersection that she’d directed the driver to, and she hastily demands that he, “Stop right here.”

The man grunts in annoyance but does as instructed, stopping in the middle of the block and allowing Rachel to fling the door open and practically tumble out of the car. She barely remembers to thank him or close the door behind him before her feet carry her directly to Quinn.

Her girlfriend looks haggard and on the verge of tears, and Rachel reaches for her instinctively, needing to physically touch her before she can permit herself to feel any measure of relief.

QUINN: Seeing Rachel exiting the cab and coming toward her creates a mixture of relief and feeling like a dam inside her is about to break.

"Rachel," Quinn's voice cracks as she's enveloped in warm, loving arms. She breathes in her girlfriend's scent and fights back the tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

RACHEL: Rachel tightens her arms around her girlfriend and squeezes her eyes closed.

“I know, baby. I forgive you.”

It’s a better approach than insisting that there’s nothing to forgive. She can smell the faint scent of whiskey clinging to Quinn’s breath and instantly knows how much worse this night could have ended if Quinn hadn’t finally called her.

Opening her eyes again, she meets Blaine’s sympathetic gaze over Quinn’s shoulder and mouths a silent ‘thank you’ before she pulls back far enough to cup Quinn’s face, forcing her beautiful girl to meet her eyes.

“It’s okay. We’re going to make it okay again.”

QUINN: Rachel's touch soothes Quinn ever so slightly as she gazes into loving, brown eyes. She's still abuzz from alcohol and mania, but her girlfriend's presence is a light in the dark.

"Take me home, please," Quinn practically whispers in desperation. Home isn't just their apartment, but a chasing of a feeling for things that never lasted. Baseball games with her family as a little girl, sitting on her father's lap. Holding Beth after giving birth to the most precious thing in this world. Cheerleading. Getting into Yale.

RACHEL: Rachel gently strokes her thumb across Quinn’s cheek, catching the slight moisture, and she nods.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Rachel runs her palm down Quinn’s arm until she can entwine their fingers, and Quinn takes her hand in a near desperate grip.

Rachel looks to Blaine with a sad smile. “Walk with us?”

“Of course,” he agrees easily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Rachel knows that all three of them will feel better once they’re someplace safe and warm. Once they’re there, they can begin to address the rest.

QUINN: The trio walks together along 82nd street, and Quinn holds on to Rachel's hand like a lifeline. She feels like running through a wall, but the warm palm against hers keeps her grounded enough to rein it in.

But that doesn't stop the tears that have been threatening from falling.

"Shit," Quinn mutters before wiping her eyes with her free hand.

RACHEL: The expletive has Rachel looking at Quinn in concern. Tears glisten on her cheek, and Rachel squeezes her hand—heart breaking for her girlfriend.

“We’ll be home soon, baby. I can make you some tea, and…we can talk.” She drifts closer to Quinn as they walk, hoping the closer proximity will help. She lowers her voice. “But right now, you can cry if you need to. Lord, know it helps me sometimes.”

QUINN: She needs to cry, but she doesn't want to. It's not a matter of pride—that's long gone—but a matter of self preservation. Losing it on the streets of New York isn't something she's going to do.

Grinding her teeth and trying to steel herself, Quinn does her best to hone in on Rachel's words.

Home. Tea. Talking.

Talking is the last thing she wants though.

It's too hard right now. For now she settles on Rachel's hand in hers and Blaine on her left.

RACHEL: Rachel should have expected that Quinn would be too stubborn to let herself break down completely in public. Even back in high school, she’d always tried so hard to seem unaffected even at her lowest.

Rachel pulls her gaze from Quinn for a moment, trying to catch Blaine’s attention. She doesn’t know how much, if anything, Quinn had shared with him before she’d arrived, and as much as she wants to ask outright, she knows better than to talk around Quinn. Instead, she lifts her eyebrows in silent question, trying to convey through her expression alone what she wants from him.

He cocks his head to the side, looking like a confused puppy. Years of friendship, and he’s still not quite as quick as catching her mental waves as Kurt. After a moment, he seems to get it, and he shakes his head.

It’s not unexpected, and Rachel sighs, managing another tight smile. “Thank you for this, Blaine.”

“You don't need to thank me,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “You know I’m always happy to be here for you both. Kurt too, when he isn’t traveling for work.”

Rachel nods distractedly, her eyes already back on Quinn. They’re nearly at their apartment building, and she can feel the evening’s anxiety catching up with her in the form of a bone deep exhaustion. She wishes they could just go home and collapse into bed in each others arms, but that won’t solve anything.

QUINN: Before Quinn knows it, they're home. It should be a relief, but it's not. The torrent of emotions are still too strong.

Gripping tighter to Rachel's hand, the tears start to flow—Quinn unable to hold them back any longer.

Strong, loving arms quickly gather her up, and Quinn finally lets go.

RACHEL: The moment they reach their building is when Quinn finally begins to break. She grips Rachel’s hand so tightly that she actually might be cutting off the circulation, but Rachel ignores the slight discomfort.

Blaine sees them inside with a silent wave, and Rachel focuses on getting Quinn into the elevator and upstairs. The moment they’re safely inside their apartment, a choked sob slips out of Quinn, and Rachel immediately wraps her up in her embrace.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmurs, tears springing to her own eyes. “You’re safe now. Let it out.”

QUINN: Quinn's not sure how long they stand there wrapped up in one another as the tears and emotions flow. Rachel makes her feel safe, but not enough to push away the feelings clawing at her.

Rachel continues to murmur soft words of love as she holds Quinn, and after long moments, Quinn's tears finally subside.

After taking a few, shaky breaths, Quinn pulls back and lifts her head to look at her girlfriend—her worry and own tears clear as day.

"I..." Quinn starts, unsure of what to say exactly. "Thank you for getting me home. Thank you for putting up with me. I don't know why I can't just be okay."

RACHEL: Cupping Quinn’s cheek, Rachel smiles at her sadly. “Being okay is very subjective, Quinn. And I’ll never blame you for the days when you’re not.”

She gently slips Quinn’s purse from her shoulder, letting it drop where they stand along with her own. “Come sit down with me,” she urges, intent on guiding her girlfriend to their sofa.

They need to talk, and Rachel needs to sit down before her legs give out from under her.

QUINN: Quinn lets Rachel lead her by the hand to the living room and watches as her girlfriend plops down on the couch in exhaustion. She follows suit, settling alongside Rachel, never letting go of her hold on her.

Rachel's presence and touch is enough to keep the torrent of thoughts swirling in her mind from completely taking over. Brown eyes gaze at her expectedly, imploring Quinn to talk.

"I shouldn't have gone out; I almost hit someone tonight," she confesses then, not able to look Rachel in the eye, because part of her wishes she had. "I went to a pub."

RACHEL: Rachel releases a slow breath from between her teeth. The pub part doesn’t surprise her since she’d already smelled the alcohol, but the other part certainly does, and her stomach clenches unpleasantly.

“You were drinking.”

It’s not a question.

She tries valiantly to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Alcohol doesn’t play nice with Quinn’s medication, so she usually won’t indulge in more than a single glass of wine with a meal on the rare occasion.

QUINN: Quinn nods shamefully, confirming Rachel's statement. "Four or five double whiskeys," she admits. "Stupid. I thought it would help shut everything up. But it didn't. And then this guy started hitting on me. If the bartender hadn't interrupted, I probably would have broken his jaw."

Rachel sucks in a breath then but says nothing, giving Quinn room to continue.

"I'm not okay, and I even started taking ziprasidone the other day. It didn't help."

RACHEL: Rachel bites into her lower lip as she digests Quinn’s words. She hates everything about what Quinn is telling her, but mostly, she hates that she wasn’t here when Quinn needed her and didn’t realize that things had gotten so bad.

But her own self-recrimination isn’t going to help the situation.

“What do you need? Should we call Dr. Herrara?”

QUINN: She glances at the time on the cable box. "It's too late to call her, but I will tomorrow. I promise. I should have done that sooner," she laments. "Maybe some tea?"

RACHEL: Rachel gives Quinn’s hand a comforting squeeze, nodding. She’s right. It’s too late to call tonight.

“We’ll call her tomorrow.”

Rachel will make sure of that. And maybe she’ll call her own therapist to see if she can squeeze in an extra session because she’s feeling wholly inadequate right now.

“But tea I can do right now. What do you think? Peppermint? Chamomile? Or good old fashioned Earl Grey?”

QUINN: "Chamomile sounds good," she says then, hoping that at least psychosomaticly it will calm her nerves. If the ziprasidone isn't helping, tea sure as hell won't.

Rachel nods and reluctantly lets go of Quinn's hand as she stands to go into the kitchen where she puts on a kettle to boil water.

Unable to sit still without Rachel anchoring her, Quinn gets up and follows her girlfriend into the kitchen.

RACHEL: She can feel Quinn in her personal space as soon as she puts the kettle on. The nervous energy radiating off of her is nearly palpable, and Rachel frowns mildly as she reaches into the cupboard for the package of tea. She places it on the counter before bringing down the cups.

“Quinn,” she begins quietly, momentarily bracing herself against the counter top before she turns to see her girlfriend fidgeting behind her. “Do you…do you want to tell me what was on your mind before you went for that walk tonight? What thoughts were you trying to quiet?”

QUINN: Her brow furrows as she contemplates Rachel's question. "The same ones I'm trying to quiet now. I just..." she trails off, trying to make sense of her thoughts enough to explain. "I feel like I can't do this new job. It's so corporate and the pressure is getting to me."

Quinn presses her lips together then as she looks into understanding brown eyes.

"It's not just that though. I don't know how to explain it," she continues. "I feel angry, scared, sad, but it doesn't make sense. It's like a war inside me."

RACHEL: If Quinn can’t explain it, then Rachel has no hope of helping her. Not that she can ever really help beyond listening and offering a safe harbor for Quinn in uncertain waters.

Reaching out, she takes hold of Quinn’s hands in hers.

“Well…maybe we can talk about your job first.” She ignores Quinn’s nervous expression for the moment, needing to say her piece. “I have every faith that you’ll excel in it once you’ve had a chance to settle in. You are a brillant and capable woman, Quinn. But I know we’ve made a lot of changes in a short span of time. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed by all of this.”

Rachel certainly does, especially right now.

“But if you really don’t feel you can be happy working there, you know I’ll support any decision you make.”

QUINN: "Thank you," she says, squeezing her girlfriend's hand gratefully. "It's just so different from my last job; faster pace and I'm afraid of making a mistake. Like that mistake on the book jacket—I should have caught it earlier, and my boss was pissed about it."

Quinn sighs before swallowing. "You're probably right about so much change so quickly. I want this to work, but my brain isn't cooperating right now," she says, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. "I hate this."

RACHEL: “I know, baby but we don’t need to have all the answers right now,” Rachel murmurs, moving closer to Quinn.

“Talking to Doctor Herrera tomorrow will help.” She hopes. “And you know you can talk to me whenever you start to feel this way. Even if you can’t find the right words, I need you to tell me when you’re struggling. We can figure it out together.”

She’s not naive enough to think that they’ll never have another night like this, but the fewer the better for her peace of mind.

QUINN: The kettle whistles then, and Quinn reluctantly lets go of Rachel's hand so her girlfriend can turn off the stove. She watches as Rachel places two bags of chamomile into the mugs.

"I thought I could handle it, and I didn't want to worry you, what with your new show and all," Quinn says as Rachel pours hot water. "I'm sorry it got ahead of me. But thank you for being here for me," she finishes gratefully, despite the unease that's still present. Talking helps, but not enough to wipe away the afflictions in her mind.

RACHEL: Rachel sighs as she turns, handing one of the steaming mugs to Quinn.

“I’ll always be here for you, Quinn. You don’t need to handle these things on your own anymore. That’s what it means to be in a relationship.”

She reaches out with her free hand to run a palm over Quinn’s shoulder.

“And I’m all in on this one with you, baby.”

#faberry #faberry rp #para #para26

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quinn-jfc · 2 years ago

Text

Coming Home—Faberry (1/1)

WHO: Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry

WHEN: Saturday, January 23, 2021

WHERE: Rachel’s Apartment, New York, NY

WHAT: Quinn and Rachel celebrate a life-changing decision.

QUINN: Quinn hurriedly walks the streets of Yorkville, pulling her coat tighter around herself in an attempt to stave off the cold, late January morning. She’s on her way to Rachel’s, eager to spend the weekend wrapped up in her girlfriend.

She’s only a little disappointed they weren’t able to start their weekend last night, but Rachel’s workshop schedule didn’t allow for it. Quinn is so proud of Rachel and all the work she’s putting into her newest role, but she wished Rachel had been able to join her last night to celebrate Kaitlyn’s birthday. Quite a few surprises were had—one of which has Quinn feeling a little uncertain about things.

Letting herself into Rachel’s apartment building with the key her girlfriend had given her all those months ago, Quinn makes her way up the stairs, feeling her excitement at seeing Rachel grow. Even after nearly a year together, Rachel never fails to elicit butterflies.

Soon, she’s at the entryway to the apartment, and she quickly fixes her hair before opening the door to her home away from home.

RACHEL: Rachel is puttering around her kitchen, preparing a light brunch for her girlfriend. Really, she’s only cutting up some fresh fruit at the moment, uncertain of what Quinn would prefer, if anything, but the coffee is brewed—well, the second pot; Rachel may have a small addiction—and she has ingredients for whatever Quinn might like to eat.

She finds herself quietly singing one of the songs from her workshop. It’s still very early in the process, and the score currently only consists of three songs and some rough melodies, but Idgie’s solo happens to be one of them, and she, of course, is Idgie. They’d originally wanted to cast her as Ruth, and Rachel supposes she could have been happy with that, but then she maybe took it upon herself to borrow the sheet music and sing “The Beecharmer’s Blues,” tentative title, for Kevin, the composer, and they’d changed their mind. She’s not mad about it.

It’s not like they’d actually decided on an actress for Idgie at that point anyway.

She’s half humming, half singing her way through the chorus when she hears her door open, and she smiles.

QUINN: The lovely lilt of Rachel’s voice reaches Quinn’s ears, and her lips curve up in pleasure as she follows the sound toward the kitchen, where she finds her beautiful girlfriend gazing at her with unabashed affection.

“Hi, baby,” Quinn greets her a little breathlessly before closing the short distance between them and capturing Rachel’s lips in a sweet kiss.

RACHEL: Rachel falls into Quinn’s kiss with a happy sigh, looping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. She takes the opportunity to deepen the contact, even if just for a moment. That she can do this, that Quinn Fabray is back in her life as her romantic partner, still feels like a dream sometimes, but they’ve been together for nearly a year now, and Rachel hasn’t managed to screw it up yet.

It isn’t always easy, but being with Quinn this way is so worth the occasional bumps in the road.

When Quinn finally pulls back, Rachel chases her lips to steal one more peck before allowing her to fully retreat. “Hey, baby,” she breathes, grinning. “I missed you last night.”

QUINN: She matches Rachel’s grin with one of her own. “I missed you too. It was a fun time, but Kaitlyn’s party would have been so much better with you there,” she confesses, not for the first time.

Quinn always wishes Rachel was at her side. She treasured the extra days during the fall months, despite her own Jets Flight Crew duties, classes, and work, due to Rachel’s vacation after finishing her contract with The Devil Wears Prada. Coming home to Rachel in the evenings after a long day was the best feeling. Granted, “home” might not be home for long, and that’s got Quinn feeling somewhat unsettled.

RACHEL: “Well, obviously,” Rachel boasts with a cheeky grin. “Who doesn’t want a Broadway star singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to them?” She may not currently be starring in the hottest new musical on the Great White Way—a sad fact that she hopes will change very soon—but she still has enough buzz around her name to suit her ego. Her investment in this workshop is the only reason she’d missed Kaitlyn’s party. She’d really wanted to go.

“Did Kaitlyn get everything else she wanted for her birthday?”

QUINN: She smiles wistfully at Rachel’s question. “Yeah, I would say so,” Quinn confirms, thinking back to her roommate’s happy tears and joyful smile at one particular surprise. “Michael finally proposed, and Kaitlyn is absolutely over the moon.”

Quinn presses her lips together for a moment as uncertainty clouds her features, thinking back to the conversation they had after the party—about how things are about to change in a major way.

RACHEL: “Oh, that’s wonderful!” is her first reaction. It’s only after the words spill excitedly out of her mouth that she fully registers the apprehensive expression that settles on Quinn’s face, and her own smile slips away. “But you don’t look particularly happy about it.”

She reaches out a hand to touch Quinn’s shoulder, suddenly concerned. “Is something wrong?”

QUINN: She sighs then, wishing she was happier for her friend. Really, it’s not like Kaitlyn or Michael did anything wrong.

“Kind of,” Quinn admits after a beat, gazing into concerned brown eyes. “After the party, Kaitlyn and Michael told me they want to move in together—ideally, they’d like to buy a small house in Verona.” Her brow furrows slightly then. “They said I can come with them, but I don’t know. I like Michael, but I’m not sure I want to live with him, you know?” she finishes, hoping Rachel understands.

RACHEL: Something in Rachel viscerally recoils at the idea of Quinn living with Kaitlyn and her boyfrie– fiancé. She has nothing against Michael, though she doesn’t really know him all that well yet, and she considers Kaitlyn a friend, but Quinn is—well, Quinn is her girlfriend, damn it. She shouldn’t be living out some odd three’s company scenario with a soon to be married couple.

But she knows that her girlfriend shouldn’t live alone. If she could, it would simply be a matter of keeping the apartment and helping Kaitlyn move out.

“Oh, baby,” Rachel coos, reaching for Quinn with the intent of wrapping her up in a hug. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about what her engagement would mean for you.” The tickle of a notion begins to flutter around her brain, but she’s nervous to give it voice. “How much time do you have to make a decision?”

QUINN: Quinn melts into Rachel’s embrace, momentarily letting herself forget all about her worries.

But Rachel’s question lingers, and Quinn reluctantly pulls back, letting her hands settle on her girlfriend’s hips as she looks at Rachel once more.

“Our lease is up at the end of March. So a little over two months,” Quinn replies.

RACHEL: Two months. Quinn has two months to decide what her new living situation will be, because regardless of whether or not she follows Kaitlyn and Michael into their new life together, things are about to change drastically.

Rachel knows how important Kaitlyn has been to Quinn. No one has understood her illness and her needs better than Kaitlyn in these past several years, with the exception of Judy perhaps. At least until Rachel had come back into Quinn’s life and forced her to open up and spill all of her secrets. Still, knowing that Kaitlyn is there to watch her back, as it were, has provided Quinn with a certain level of familiarity and comfort that she’s about to lose.

The tickle gets a little stronger, but Rachel still hesitates.

“What…what do you think you’d want to do if you don’t live with them?”

QUINN: She worries her lower lip for a moment, contemplating Rachel’s question. It’s something she’s been thinking about since last night, but she’s kind of afraid to give voice to it. It’s not really doable.

“Honestly,” Quinn says softly, knowing being honest with Rachel is always best, “I’d love to live with you, but I can’t afford to live here and I’d hate to ask you to move to Bloomfield with me. I know your life is here in New York.”

RACHEL: Just like that, the tickle explodes into a fully realized itch. The thing she hadn’t wanted to voice for fear of Quinn rebuffing her is out there now because it’s been on her girlfriend’s mind as well.

“I’d like to think my life is with you, too.” And preferably also in New York, but Rachel is willing to make some minor compromises on the exact location if absolutely necessary. “And the money hardly matters,” she says, dismissing that concern with a wave of her hand. Rachel has a very nice savings account from her time as Andy and the wise investments that her dad had steered her toward. “I have more than enough.”

She urges Quinn’s hands away from her hips only to hold them both with her own. “I want you to live with me, Quinn.” In fact, she’s feeling increasingly excited by the idea.

QUINN: Warmth blooms in Quinn’s chest at Rachel’s words. She wants that too, but, “I can’t afford it here, Rachel, and I’m not going to mooch off of you.”

She’s suddenly feeling a bit inadequate, wanting to be able to pull her own financial weight in this relationship.

RACHEL: Rachel purses her lips, feeling annoyingly rebuffed anyway, and her grip on Quinn’s hands tightens. “It wouldn’t be mooching,” she argues. “If you want to pay part of the rent, you certainly can, but just your presence in my life is worth so much more than that. I want you with me, baby. I miss you every time you have to go back to Bloomfield.”

There’s nothing that Rachel loves more than the nights that Quinn spends here with her—nights that bleed into lazy mornings—but their schedules don’t often cooperate. Rachel’s extended vacation had been wonderful for all the extra time they’d been able to spend together, but it hadn’t changed the fact that Quinn has two separate and often demanding careers to attend to.

She can tell by the expression on Quinn’s face that she’s still not convinced.

“And…well, I suppose we could look for something a bit more affordable if it’s really going to be an issue for you.”

Rachel would miss this one, obviously, but it’s not like she’s unfamiliar with needing a budget friendly rent. The apartment she’d shared with Riley in Sunnyside had been that, and it was nice enough, if notably smaller.

QUINN: She lets out a long breath, feeling relief at Rachel’s declaration. “I miss you every day we’re not together,” she affirms, giving Rachel’s hands a gentle squeeze. “And I would love nothing more than to come home to you every night.”

Quinn wants to make this work, and Rachel is obviously willing to compromise. “I appreciate you offering to look into someplace that’s more in my budget,” she says then, her relief transforming into excitement at the thought of finally being able to share a home with her girlfriend.

RACHEL: Her heart trips over itself at Quinn’s agreement—it had been an agreement, hadn’t it?—and she smiles widely, bouncing on her toes a little before she tramps down her excitement into something resembling calm , maturity.

“That was a yes, correct?” she feels the need to verify. “Because I’ve been told I can be difficult to live with and…well, we’ve never really broached the subject before,” she rambles, the attempt at calm, maturity rapidly slipping away. She’s unable to help herself, really, because, “You’ve seemed perfectly content to live with Kaitlyn, and maybe you’re just trying to let me down gently because you don’t think you can handle my admittedly driven nature without a mode of escape, and you haven’t actually said yes, Quinn.” The fact that Quinn had been the one to bring up living together hardly matters when she’d immediately followed it with all the reasons she couldn’t.

Rachel’s old insecurities may still be a little bit of a thing.

“I really need you to say yes,” she all but begs, squeezing her girlfriend’s hands.

QUINN: Her head spins a little at Rachel’s ramble, but she hears every word loud and clear, and Quinn doesn’t miss the insecurity mixed with hope shining in brown eyes. She wants nothing more than to wipe away her girlfriend’s fears.

“Absolutely, yes,” Quinn confirms with a wide smile and another gentle squeeze of Rachel’s hands, watching as unrestrained joy lights up her girlfriend’s face. “I want to make this work, Rachel. I want to live with you, and the only reason I didn’t bring the idea up sooner was because I didn’t want to disrupt your life even more. I mean, you’re just starting your workshop. And, well, you know big changes can be challenging for me,” she adds, biting her lower lip.

RACHEL: Relief floods through Rachel, immediately followed by joy. Her mind is already spinning with all the possibilities, but she does hear the mild warning in Quinn’s final words.

“I know, baby,” she vows, nodding her head. “But we can work through the changes together. Open lines of communication,” she recites, recalling the advice that both of their therapists persist in reiterating.

She bounces on her toes again, smiling excitedly. “We’re moving in together. Yay!”

QUINN: Rachel’s excitement is absolutely infectious, and Quinn can’t help but find her completely adorable in this moment—breaking into a wide grin at the sight.

And knowing they have some time to work out the logistics of a move and all that it entails, as well as the promise of open communication with Rachel, has Quinn feeling way more settled than she did last night and earlier today.

“We’re moving in together,” Quinn repeats happily, finally releasing her hold on Rachel’s hands, wrapping her arms around a slender waist and pressing her forehead to Rachel’s, wanting to be closer. “I’m so happy you want to do this with me.”

RACHEL: Rachel’s hands slip around Quinn’s back, and she gazes into sparkling hazel eyes. This close, she can see every tiny fleck of gold and green reflected in the light. “I want to do everything with you,” she breathes out tenderly. “I can’t wait to live with you.”

She tips her head up, pressing a soft kiss to Quinn’s smiling lips. She hadn’t imagined this morning that she’d be taking such a momentous step with her girlfriend today, but she’s so happy they’re going to do this together.

QUINN: Quinn’s eyes momentarily flutter closed at the feeling of soft lips pressed against her own, feeling warm all over from Rachel’s declaration. She wants that too.

‘I’m so incredibly lucky,’ Quinn thinks, excited about all the possibilities, but also so grateful that she has Rachel as a partner in this—their future feeling even more solid in Quinn’s mind. Sure there’ve been bumps in the road, but they’ve weathered things without Rachel being scared away.

RACHEL: Rachel pulls back from the kiss slowly, her body still pressed close to Quinn and held in the circle of her arms. A grin pulls at her lips.

“You know, we’ve just made a very significant, life changing decision, and of course I realize that we have a lot we’ll need to do in the next two months.” They’ll need to find an apartment, apparently, and then pack up all of their things from their current apartments. “But I think this very important step in our relationship deserves to be celebrated, don’t you?”

QUINN: “It most definitely does,” Quinn agrees with another smile of her own, but she feels the stirring of desire low in her belly, as various ideas of just how they can celebrate flood her mind. “Should we move things to the bedroom?” she asks huskily, “Or would you rather we celebrate right here?”

RACHEL: Quinn’s husky voice stirs the embers of Rachel’s arousal into a steady fire. “Mmm, I’d be happy to do it right here,” she replies, sliding her hands around to Quinn’s shoulders and beneath the open lapels of her coat, which she’d previously neglected to remove in the surprise of her news. She rectifies that oversight now, slipping the material down her arms. “But I think we’ll have much more fun in my bed.”

She already has so many ideas for how to thoroughly commemorate this day.

Brunch can wait.

QUINN: She helps Rachel remove her coat as desire sings through her veins, eager to move things to her girlfriend’s bed. ‘And soon, it will be *our* bed,’ Quinn thinks, feeling a thrill of excitement.

Leaning down to capture her girlfriend’s lips in an enthusiastic kiss, Quinn let’s out a pleasured sigh, before slowly drawing back once more. “Lead the way.”

RACHEL: Rachel runs the tip of her tongue over her own lips, savoring the taste of her girlfriend’s kiss. Then she gives into the urge to press her mouth to Quinn’s once, twice more, lightly catching Quinn’s lower lip between her teeth before finally letting her break away completely.

Quinn moans in approval of the action, and Rachel grins seductively, gazing at Quinn from beneath her lashes as she catches her girlfriend’s hand and entwines their fingers.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” She winks at Quinn, dropping her voice. “And yours.”

QUINN: A pleasant chill runs through Quinn at Rachel’s promise, and her eyes darken with desire. “Show me.”

She lets Rachel lead her by the hand through the apartment, tossing her coat over the back of the couch as they go, eager to get out of the rest of her clothes and surrender to her girlfriend’s talented hands and mouth.

RACHEL: The moment they clear the threshold of her bedroom, Rachel pulls Quinn back into her arms, playfully nipping a line of kisses along her jaw as she tangles her fingers into silky strands of chestnut hair. She loves the color on Quinn. Of course, she’d loved her as a blonde too. She’d probably love her as a redhead. She really just loves her.

Her hands don’t stay in Quinn’s hair for very long though. She’s far too eager to slip them beneath the material of her shirt and feel the heat of her skin, so that’s exactly what she does.

QUINN: Quinn lets out a hum of pleasure at the feeling of Rachel’s soft hands caressing the bare skin of her lower back before trailing up her rib cage. She’s so glad she decided to forego a bra today.

Her own hands wander lower until they cup Rachel’s ass, squeezing supple flesh through the thin material of her girlfriend’s leggings, and the moan Rachel lets out against her jaw—so close to her ear—sends a ripple of pleasure right down to her core.

RACHEL: Quinn’s hands on her ass bring their bodies even closer, and arousal surges through her, especially when her fingers brush the underside of Quinn’s unencumbered breasts. Suddenly desperate to get her girlfriend completely naked, Rachel jerks her hands to the front of Quinn’s shirt and hastily attempts to fumble with the buttons while she peppers kisses down her long graceful neck.

But her fingers prove too clumsy for her liking, only managing to undo the bottom two buttons before her impatience gets the better of her. With a frustrated growl, she grips the stubborn material between desperate fists and tugs, sending the next two buttons flying across the room and pinging onto the floor.

QUINN: Hazel eyes widen in surprise, and a pleasured gasp escapes from Quinn’s lips at Rachel literally ripping the buttons off her shirt. The look in Rachel’s eyes is practically feral, and it has her own arousal skyrocketing as the final two buttons of her blouse tear away, leaving her exposed. Her girlfriend’s hands slide up over Quinn’s breasts then, teasing her nipples.

Quinn lets out a soft moan at the contact, but then it’s gone, and Rachel’s hands continue upward before tugging forcefully at the material of Quinn’s shirt. It’s such a turn on when she gets aggressive like this.

RACHEL: Rachel only feels a little bit guilty for ruining Quinn’s shirt. She hadn’t even known she could do that, really, but she always has been extremely determined to get the things she wants—and she wants Quinn.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” she promises distractedly as she strips the offending material away from Quinn’s body and tosses it onto the floor.

Then her hands find their way back to Quinn’s breasts and so does her mouth.

QUINN: Quinn’s mouth falls open and her fingers thread themselves in brown locks, holding Rachel close. She couldn’t care less about the state of her shirt right now.

The feeling of Rachel’s mouth—the way her lips and teeth and tongue tease Quinn’s nipples—has Quinn hot and her knees quivering.

“God, yes, Rachel,” she moans. “You feel so good.”

RACHEL: “Not as good as you feel,” Rachel murmurs against her skin before dragging her tongue across a pebbled nipple again. She loves doing this; the texture, the taste, the moans she pulls from her girlfriend. She’d say she’s a total boob girl except that she loves Quinn’s ass and legs just as much.

She moans appreciatively against the soft skin beneath her lips, and her hands slide around to Quinn’s back before dipping down, fingertips sneaking under the waist of her pants.

She reluctantly tears her lips away from Quinn’s breasts, licking a path back up to the pulse point at her neck. “You still have too many clothes on.”

And it should go without saying that Rachel does too.

QUINN: “Mmm, so do you,” Quinn husks, moving her own lips to capture Rachel’s earlobe before licking a path upward, smiling at the shivering moan she elicits. All the while, Quinn’s hands roam down Rachel’s back before hooking into the waistline of her leggings, teasing Rachel’s hips with her fingers.

“You know, I haven’t had my breakfast yet,” Quinn whispers in a sultry voice, her mouth still close to Rachel’s ear, “and I’m in the mood for you.”

RACHEL: Rachel’s knees go weak at the husky timbre of Quinn’s voice, and she moans again, biting into her own lip. “We…we should do something about that,” she rasps, tugging at Quinn’s pants.

She doubts her determination is enough to successfully rip them off, so she has to settle for using them as a means to pull Quinn along with her as she walks backward toward her bed, stumbling slightly as she goes.

“I pride myself in being a good hostess,” she teases between kisses.

QUINN: Quinn chases Rachel’s lips with her own as she’s pulled the short distance to the bed, hungry for more than Rachel’s mouth. Soon the backs of Rachel’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Quinn takes the opportunity to grip on to the bottom of Rachel’s shirt, lifting it up and trailing fingers along her sides, eager to get her girlfriend undressed.

Rachel reluctantly stops kissing and holding on to Quinn long enough for her to lift her arms up so Quinn can completely remove the offending garment, tossing it at her feet. Quinn quickly recaptures Rachel’s lips in a heated kiss as her hands dip into the waistband of Rachel’s leggings again, this time tugging them down and over her girlfriend’s hips.

RACHEL: Before she can fully comprehend what’s happening, Rachel finds herself very close to being naked, her backside bared to the cool air of her bedroom and the hot press of Quinn’s hands as they work her leggings down, down, down, right along with her panties.

She can’t be fully blamed. Quinn’s kisses are very distracting.

Quinn’s pants become an even more annoying obstruction in light of Rachel’s current state of undress, and she fumbles with the fastenings in a race to get her girlfriend naked too.

Quinn breaks their kiss with a sexy chuckle, clearly catching on to her intentions. She makes no attempt to remove Rachel’s hands from her zipper, but she does use her body and the leverage of the bed behind Rachel’s knees to gently push her down on the mattress. Rachel has no choice but to temporarily abandon her task when Quinn dips down and pulls her leggings completely away, tossing them behind her to join her shirt.

QUINN: Quinn lifts her gaze up along Rachel’s nearly naked body, eyes darkening with desire as she trails a path with her fingers up the outside of deliciously long legs, intent on landing at Rachel’s bra to remove the final barrier blocking Quinn’s gaze and touch.

But she gets distracted on the way there as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend’s glistening sex, and Quinn instinctively spreads Rachel’s legs wider. The scent of Rachel’s arousal hits her instantly, causing Quinn’s nostrils to flare and her mouth to water.

Without conscious thought, she drops to her knees. Quinn wants Rachel, and she wants her now.

RACHEL: Rachel moans in pleasure at the feel of Quinn’s hands as they travel a greedy path over her thighs. She expects the rest of her girlfriend to follow their path, and her own fingertips tingle in heated anticipation, wanting nothing more than to explore the expanse of smooth pale skin of her very toned body.

They may also want to divest Quinn of her remaining clothes before sinking into her hair and guiding her back for more toe-curling kisses.

None of that happens.

Quinn stays right where she is, sinking down onto the floor between Rachel’s spread thighs and diving in for an entirely different kind of toe-curling kiss. Back arching from the unexpected stimulation, Rachel’s own hands twist into the sheets beneath her as she cries out.

“Fuck, Quinn.” The words come out breathless and needy. “That’s…that’s cheating,” she gasps, reaching one hand down to tangle in Quinn’s hair.

QUINN: Another spike of pleasure courses through Quinn at the curse falling from Rachel’s lips as fingers grip Quinn’s hair; she loves reducing her girlfriend to swearing in the bedroom. But she lets out another soft chuckle at the rest of Rachel’s words, momentarily pulling her mouth away from its warm haven.

“But you taste so good, baby,” Quinn husks, lifting her smoldering gaze. “And I’m hungry.”

Eager to have another taste, Quinn dives back in, and she moans as she takes in more of the heady flavor of Rachel’s arousal.

RACHEL: Rachel has no coherent response to that, just another guttural moan at the heady sensation of Quinn’s all-too talented mouth on her. Her fingers tighten in Quinn’s hair, torn between pulling her away to slow this back down or urging her closer.

She doesn’t pull her away.

Her hips begin to move in time with the rhythm set by Quinn’s tongue and teeth and lips, seeking to increase the beautiful friction, and her free hand trails up over her belly en route to her own breasts. She bites into her lip as it curves in a blissed-out smile because her impatient girlfriend hadn’t even bothered to get her bra off. She can’t be bothered with it either, pushing it up out of the way rather than fumbling with the clasp.

She’s far too busy losing herself to pleasure.

QUINN: Eating Rachel out is absolute heaven, and Quinn could happily spend hours doing so, especially when Rachel’s this responsive—every moan and roll of Rachel’s hips urging her on.

Quinn delves her tongue into wet heat, thrusting it in an out for a few moment before bringing her attention back to Rachel’s clit, kissing and suckling at it and feeling slender fingers tighten in her hair.

RACHEL: She can feel her orgasm building with every skilled stroke of Quinn’s tongue against her sex. Her fingers play at her own nipples—well, the ones not otherwise tugging at her girlfriend’s hair.

She bites into her lip in a vain effort to stifle her escalating moans and whimpers, caught between the desire to prolong this glorious onslaught of pleasure and the need to tumble over the edge as quickly as possible.

When her gaze next drifts down to watch Quinn between her legs, darkened hazel eyes met hers with such single-minded intensity that the very next flick of that wicked tongue coaxes her body to the very brink of ecstasy, and she throws her head back against the mattress as her back bows and she teeters on the razor’s edge for one maddening moment before she willingly falls.

QUINN: Nimble fingers twist themselves into Quinn’s hair and strong thighs tighten around her head, and Quinn sucks harder on Rachel’s clit. The moan that rips from Rachel’s throat as her back bows in pleasure has Quinn’s body thrumming. Her gaze remains fixed on Rachel’s breasts, wanting to not just feel Rachel come but also desperate to see it.

She keeps her mouth on Rachel, gently riding out her orgasm before reluctantly pulling away, pressing soft kisses to the inside of Rachel’s thighs as her girlfriend slowly starts to come back down.

RACHEL: The world around her goes white hot for a moment, then hazy around the edges as her heart pounds in her ears and her lungs burn with the need for more oxygen. Her entire body throbs with the aftershocks of pleasure, and her arms fall limp against the mattress as she struggles to catch her breath.

“That was… I can’t…” She inhales deeply, finally feeling her heartbeat begin to even out. A blissed-out laugh bubbles out, and she grins stupidly up at her ceiling. “Wow.”

QUINN: Quinn’s lips curve up into a smug grin before pressing another kiss to the inside of Rachel’s thigh as she gazes up at Rachel’s spent body.

Slowly trailing her hands down Rachel’s legs, Quinn then pushes herself off the floor, eyes never leaving Rachel as she settles her upper body against Rachel’s, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure at the feeling their naked breasts pressed together. Hooded, brown eyes meet Quinn’s gaze, and her heart swells at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs softly before lowering her mouth to capture Rachel’s in a passionate kiss.

RACHEL: She’s barely caught her breath before Quinn is kissing her breathless again. The taste of herself on her girlfriend’s lips starts her body buzzing with arousal all over again, despite the mind-blowing orgasm she’d just had.

She threads her fingers back into Quinn’s hair and parts her lips, meeting every ounce of her passion with fervor. Her other hand finds the sweat slickened skin of Quinn’s back, sliding down until it meets the waistband of her jeans—unfastened but still annoyingly covering her glorious ass.

Rachel breaks the kiss with a playful nip of Quinn’s lips. “You’re very much overdressed.”

QUINN: “Mmm, so I am,” she agrees, wanting to feel Rachel completely. “I should do something about that.”

She drops another kiss to Rachel’s lips before reluctantly pulling away and pushing herself up to stand. Part of her wants to put on a little show of removing her jeans, but she’s way too turned on for that right now—just wanting to be completely naked in bed with her girlfriend.

Quinn hurriedly pulls down her jeans along with her panties while Rachel sits up and removes her own bra. Hazel eyes briefly catch on the black ink tattooed on Rachel’s ribs, but it doesn’t even phase her anymore—especially since it’s also kind of about Quinn and Rachel now.

Needing to be close to Rachel, Quinn steps forward between Rachel’s legs. Strong hands are instantly on her backside, drawing Quinn closer as Rachel presses an open-mouthed kiss to the bare skin of Quinn’s belly.

RACHEL: Rachel’s palms curl around the perfect globes of Quinn’s ass, and she leans in to trace the lines of her abs with her tongue. In moments like this, she truly appreciates the Flight Crew’s training regime.

The scent of her girlfriend’s arousal tickles her senses, and all she wants is to make Quinn feel as good as Quinn had made her feel.

It’s a very short trip from those abs of hers to pert breasts, and Rachel closes her lips around one peaked nipple, happy to resume her exploration of Quinn Fabray’s perfect body. And soon, she’ll have the pleasure of having Quinn next to her every night and waking up with her every morning.

Quinn hums in pleasure, curling her fingers into Rachel’s hair, and Rachel lightly scrapes her nails over Quinn’s backside, pulling another moan from her, before bringing them around to slip between her legs. Her girlfriend is slick and swollen and so ready for Rachel, her hips rolling into Rachel’s purposeful touch.

QUINN: “Rachel,” Quinn pants, desperate to feel more of her girlfriend as she unconsciously spreads her legs. “I need you inside me.”

A soft moan against her nipple is Rachel’s only audible reply, but she takes mercy on Quinn and slides two fingers into her wet heat. A cry of pleasure rips from her throat at the feeling of finally having Rachel inside her.

And then those talented fingers begin to thrust in and out in a steady motion, and all Quinn can do is hold on to Rachel’s head as her mouth continues to pleasure Quinn’s breasts. It’s like an all-consuming fire, burning hotter and hotter with every pump of her fingers and lick of her tongue.

RACHEL: Never let it be said that Rachel Berry doesn’t take direction well. She’s more than happy to fulfill her girlfriend’s request, sliding her fingers deeper and curling them against her hot, slick walls in just the way she knows Quinn loves. The gasps and moans above her, not to mention the fingers tightening in her hair, tell her she’s found the right spot.

Being the very skilled multi-tasker that she is, Rachel finds Quinn’s clit with the pad of her thumb and draws clumsy circles over it while she continues to pump her fingers in and out. The hand that had been happily playing over her ass slips down to urge her thighs further apart so Rachel can have more room to work with.

Quinn releases the sexiest moan, shifting her weight and spreading her legs until she can brace one knee on the mattress next to Rachel’s hip, and her entire body presses against Rachel, her hips rolling urgently. She slips a third finger into Quinn’s tight passage and feasts on the breast under her lips, feeling her girlfriend spiral closer and closer to her peak.

QUINN: Rachel’s fingers are magic, and the addition of a third finger inside her has Quinn teetering on the edge. “Fuck, Rachel,” she begs with a wanton moan. “Don’t stop. Just like that, baby.”

Rachel’s fingers continue thrusting while her thumb rubs deliciously at Quinn’s clit, her own hips rolling in a primal rhythm.

She’s close. God, she’s so close to coming.

White hot heat surges up from Quinn’s core as waves of pleasure course through her body—fingers gripping tighter in Rachel’s hair as her hips spasm, releasing a cry of pleasure.

RACHEL: A smile of satisfaction curls Rachel’s lips, which are still wrapped around a nipple, as she feels Quinn come all over her fingers. She gentles her ministrations but doesn’t stop, encouraging her girlfriend all the way through her climax and drawing out every last tremor of pleasure from her body.

“That’s it, baby,” she murmurs against her skin. “Give me everything.”

Eventually, Quinn’s body goes slack against her, her weight pressing down into Rachel, and Rachel finally eases her fingers out and wraps both arms around her girlfriend. She presses a soft kiss to her clavicle.

“You are so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”

QUINN: Quinn shudders when Rachel pulls out of her, and Rachel’s words bring tears to her eyes. Ducking her head, Quinn leans down to press her lips against Rachel’s.

“I love you,” she whispers against Rachel’s mouth before parting her lips and deepening their kiss—pouring all her emotion into it.

RACHEL: Those words never fail to make her heart sing, and she kisses Quinn back with utter happiness. “I love you too,” she vows when Quinn finally releases her mouth. “So very much.”

She reaches up to tenderly stroke her girlfriend’s cheek. “And I’m really going to love living with you.”

QUINN: Quinn’s lips curve into a soft smile as she’s reminded just what they’re celebrating this morning. “I can’t wait to make a home with you,” she murmurs happily.

Rachel smiles sweetly in return and presses another loving kiss to Quinn’s lips.

Finally feeling some strength come back to her spent body, Quinn shifts her weight then and moves to straddle Rachel, just wanting to hold her for awhile before actually getting into Rachel’s bed and continuing their celebration.

RACHEL: Her arms instinctively slide around her girlfriend’s waist as Quinn straddles her. It’s such a lovely position, and Rachel’s brain may, in fact, short-circuit slightly. But Quinn doesn’t seem in any rush to resume their more passionate activities. Instead, her hands glide tenderly over Rachel’s back and her lips place little kisses across her brow.

Rachel sighs in contentment, tipping her face up to collect a few of those kisses with her lips instead. One, two, three, maybe five, and she giggles joyfully, grinning up at Quinn.

“So will this homemaking include more of this particular position? Because I find I’m quite enjoying it.”

QUINN: “Oh, most definitely,” Quinn promises with a sly smile, quite enjoying this position herself. She’s not in any rush to move from it, but she is in the mood for more of Rachel’s kisses.

Dipping her head, Quinn does just that—pressing her lips to Rachel’s and closing her eyes, so that all she’s aware of is her girlfriend’s soft body and warm mouth.

RACHEL: Rachel’s body is not unaffected by the lazy affection that Quinn is giving her. She’d gotten a bit worked up again while getting her girlfriend off, so it really doesn’t take much to have her body buzzing with renewed arousal.

It would be incredibly easy to lie back on the bed and take Quinn with her, but she allows Quinn to set the pace, deepening and gentling the kiss in alternating turns. She’ll follow wherever Quinn leads her.

Today, tomorrow, and in the coming months until they can find a home to make their own.

#faberry #faberry rp #para #para24

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