Title: America, She's Beautiful

Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

Summary: AU. She walked in with long curly blonde hair, hands clasped behind her back, and a red smile, and all Rachel wanted to know was why large, burly men were following her everywhere. | She walked in to find an ordinary brunette to strike up an argument with, and all Quinn cared about was that Rachel hadn't the slightest clue who she was.


Rachel fisted her hand into the thin cloth of Quinn's dress and tugged her closer. Her mouth slid hotly over Quinn's as her back collided with her closet door. The audible slap of Quinn's hands against the door on either side of her head made her moan as Quinn pulled back to bump their foreheads together. Quinn nearly went cross eyed from trying to make eye contact with Rachel from this angle before she stopped caring all together and tilted her head to kiss her.

"Uh-uh," Rachel breathed with a playful smile as she turned away from questing lips. "The kissing earlier was for a cause."

Quinn smirked, a cocky smile that made Rachel's stomach clench. She grabbed handfuls of Rachel's waist and tugged her closer. Her eyes were predatory as she glared down at Rachel, and Rachel felt her heart stutter for a second. "You couldn't even keep your hands off me the whole ride back."

A pretty blush painted along Rachel's nose. She swallowed and searched for a response. "Residual effects of the cause." Her breath hitched as Quinn leaned closer to nuzzle her nose along the flush across her cheek. It was oddly affectionate, something she wouldn't have expected from the rigid president's daughter.

Quinn nosed a trail to the corner of Rachel's mouth and breathed, "What about all the moaning you were doing?"

"Also cause-worthy," Rachel whispered. Her brow furrowed in frustration that she was only causing herself when Quinn pecked her top lip.

Quinn's eyes darkened as she dragged them from Rachel's lips to her eyes. "And the sounds you would make if I were to kiss you right now?"

Rachel gripped the back of Quinn's neck in anticipation. "Pure unadulterated pleasure on my part," she admitted.

Quinn moaned and tipped her head down enough to kiss Rachel hard. They knocked back into the door once more, and Rachel kept a firm grip around the back of Quinn's neck when she felt Quinn attempt to squirm away to inquire about her well-being.

She pulled back enough to allow, "I'm fine," to tumble from her lips before she fused them with Quinn's.

The sure way Quinn's hands molded to her hips was a pleasant surprise, and something Rachel hadn't been expecting considering she had decided long ago that she was probably the first woman Quinn had ever experienced.

Her fingers ghosted along the column of Quinn's throat as she rose up on the tip of her toes to trace her tongue along Quinn's upper lip. Rachel reveled in the small hitch in Quinn's breathing before her tongue was enveloped in a warm mouth that made her squirm against the door to even think about.

Long fingers flexed along the contours of Rachel's stomach as the grip around her tightened. Quinn stepped closer until she could feel Rachel breathe against her, uneven breaths that made Rachel's chest expand into Quinn's. Rachel's hands were sloppy as they winded through Quinn's hair, and she smiled teasingly when Quinn grunted in disapproval. Greedy hands pulled at blonde strands to keep Quinn in place as she nibbled on Rachel's lower lip. She bit and pulled on it, and Rachel groaned.

A faint buzzing tickled Rachel's ankle. She twisted her foot alongside the sensation, only to feel Quinn's bare calf brush her own. A breath shuddered out of her as she curled her leg around Quinn's and drew it higher, collapsing further into the door and bringing Quinn impossibly closer. The slight weight against her made Rachel moan.

Quinn ignored the buzzing in favor of stroking her tongue along the roof of Rachel's mouth. It produced a throaty sound that vibrated Rachel's throat and knocked between Quinn's legs. She did it again, and again until the faint rocking of Rachel's hips rustled her dress, among other things.

The next thing either of them heard was a thundering knock on Rachel's door. Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin with a squeak as Quinn pulled away with balled up lips. She lifted her leg, the same leg that Rachel had her own wrapped around just seconds prior and produced a cell phone from the inside of her boot.

All the while Rachel watched her with wide eyes. "That's what was vibrating," she uttered thickly.

Quinn tilted her head in answer and walked toward the door. Her lips drew into a pout as she sighed in frustration and walked her fingers through her hair in an attempt to control the damage Rachel had done.

The oddity of Quinn answering her door was lost on Rachel who felt nonplussed and unsure about what was happening.

It was predictable to Quinn who was on the other side of the door, and she opened it with a bland expression that bordered on irritation.

Standing in front of her were all four of her bodyguards, none of whom bothered to hide their own irritation.

Peter, who was less gun shy than her other bodyguards, especially Greg, all but growled, "Did you not hear my phone call?"

He was a just two inches shy of Greg's height with a thick neck and big, veiny hands, clipped hair that made his jawline and overall face appear even more severe.

Still, Quinn had never had a problem facing him head-on. Her own jawline grew more defined with clenched teeth that bit out clipped words. "Clearly I didn't, otherwise I would have answered."

Rachel unglued herself from the closet door and crept closer to peek around Quinn's tense shoulder to the four men on the other side of the door.

Peter took in her disheveled appearance and the blush across her face, and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Are you kidding me?" he hissed. "Do you want to get us all in trouble?"

"What I want is a little privacy," Quinn snapped back.

Greg cleared his throat before Peter could rebuff her statement. He shouldered forward a step toward Quinn. "Your father would like to see you."

"What for?"

His eyes slid to Rachel, pinched in mistrust, before he looked to Quinn again. "It'd probably be best if you talked to him about it."

Quinn went silent. She stared at all four of them for a long moment then sighed in frustration. "Fine. I'll be out in a minute."

Then she slammed the door in their faces.

Rachel cleared her throat and stepped back to allot Quinn space. Her arms folded across her middle in unease. "I suppose you have to go," she prompted in a miniscule voice.

Quinn pivoted to stare down at Rachel in silence. Her hand rose in uncertainty borne of their interruption. The tips of her fingers brushed Rachel's cheek. It was soft and pliant, like Rachel felt herself to be at the moment. "I'll call you." The words sounded stiff on Quinn's tongue and Rachel didn't know whether to laugh or gnaw her lip off in apprehension.

"You should," Rachel informed her before taking her bottom lip between her teeth to gnaw off in apprehension.

Quinn's eyes flashed at the challenge, and she smiled a feral grin. She tugged on Rachel's chin until her bottom lip popped free, glistening and red, and Quinn kissed it deeply.


The house was quiet.

Quinn closed the door behind her, and her bodyguards scattered to their own corners of the world. Quinn grabbed the tail of Greg's shirt before he was able to escape and tugged. When he turned to face her, her eyes had narrowed to slits. "What have you all told him?" Quinn demanded.

Greg didn't much care for her tone and it showed in the thin line his mouth pressed into. "We're your guards, Quinn. Our job is to keep an eye on you and report back to your father if and when he asks."

"What have you told him?" she repeated in a gravely quiet voice.

"That you made a friend at some dinky coffee shop and you've been hanging out and sightseeing with her." He arched a daring eyebrow. "What is there to tell?"

Her jaw shifted back and forth in annoyance as she sized Greg up. Quinn folded her arms across her chest. "I'm done with this conversation."

He shrugged and walked off through the house.

Once she was sure his presence was gone, Quinn traveled through the foreign house with alert eyes, unable to gather her jumbled thoughts. She wondered if her bodyguards had finally fessed up to her father just what she had been up to the past two weeks. She wondered if they even really knew anything at all. And she wondered if her father knew about her attending the demonstration at Burger Town.

Her blood ran hot through her veins and she felt feverish with the possibility of confrontation. She stopped at what had become her father's study down the hallway and placed her ear against the door.

Nostalgia began to tickle her brain. She felt like a child again, creeping on her father to see if he was busy because she wanted him to take her to the park like he had promised.

She heard muffled voices on the other side, tense and clipped words that she couldn't quite make out. Curious, Quinn stood to her full height and rolled her shoulders back before twisting the doorknob and walking inside.

There were three people in the room: Russell, his campaign manager, Victor, and some unknown man whom Quinn had never met before.

Russell stood from where she had been leaning over the table to address the young man sitting in a chair. "Quinn." His voice was cold with annoyance. "Join us."

Quinn stepped back. "I'd rather not."

He leveled her with a glare. "This concerns you."

With a sigh, Quinn reluctantly closed the door behind her. The heel of her boots clacked onto the hardwood floors until they reached the tan rug in the center of the room. She shot Victor a look before standing on her father's side of the long rectangular table. "What is it?" She glanced down at the manila folder on the table then back up at her father.

Russell flipped open the folder with a flick of his wrist to reveal what was inside.

Quinn looked down to the small stack of black and white photos staring up at her. They were all the same, copy after copy of her hands around Rachel's waist, Rachel's hands in her hair, Quinn kissing her in a sea of people indifferent to their love because their love wasn't so different. A sea of people that seemed so far away now that she was standing in her father's office staring down at herself just hours ago.

"What is this?" Russell snarled suddenly, impatient with her silence.

Quinn's stomach bottomed out at the tone of his voice. She took a deep breath to find her own, but couldn't quite meet his eyes as she responded. "What's it look like?"

Russell stepped closer and pitched his voice lower. "Don't test me, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn balled her hands into fists. She took deep breaths to keep from vomiting and met her father's gaze. "It's exactly what it looks like," she mumbled.

Russell's lower lip quivered in his ire. "I see." He swiveled around as if dismissing her to engage the young man across the table who had taken the photos.

Quinn stepped back and turned to walk away.

"Stay," Russell instructed. "This is your mess. You stay while we find a way to handle it."

Quinn clenched her teeth and slid into the seat next to her father. She folded her hands in her lap and glowered at the man across the table.

Victor paced the floor on the other side of the table, whether he was using an intimidation tactic or not, Quinn didn't know.

Russell fished out a checkbook from the pocket of his black slacks with a grunt. He produced a pen from the pocket of his pressed shirt and noisily placed both on the table. "How much?"

The man sat forward and placed eager, money hungry hands on the table. "I want ten thousand."

"Done."

His eyebrows shot up and he ran his hands through his hair. "Whoa, it's that easy? Okay, I want thirty thousand."

Russell stopped writing to glare across the table. "You can't do that."

Quinn leaned back in her seat. "This would all be easier if you just came out as a supporter of gay marriage," she grumbled.

Russell ignored her. "I'll give you twenty-five thousand, and that's it."

The man's eyes were alight with the happiness of a payoff. "Done."

Russell started on a new check. "Who do I make this out to?"

"Jacob Ben Israel."

The check was practically ripped from its book before Russell thrust it across the table into Jacob's face.

Jacob marveled at the 0's staring back at him. "Is this real life?" he whispered to himself.

Quinn scowled as Russell stood from his seat to address Victor.

"I'll draw up the clause right away," Victor spoke up as if reading his thoughts.

"I want every photo he has and the flash drive he probably left more copies on. If he even speaks about my daughter and a photograph in the same sentence, I want him silenced and sued for every penny I gave him and then some."

"Of course." Victor cleared his throat pointedly until Jacob glanced over at him. "A word, sir."

Jacob held fast to the check in his hand and stumbled out of his seat to follow Victor out of the room.

Quinn rose from her seat and gripped the back of her chair. She twisted the toe of her boot into the rug and bit her lip. "I didn't know I'd be photographed," she said in a chastened-soft voice.

Russell rubbed at the scruff on his chin with a scoff. "Do you not know who you are?"

"Yes, but—"

"You're not as inconspicuous as you perceive yourself to be, Quinn."

Her mouth audibly clacked shut to silence whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue. "I guess not," she eventually mumbled.

Russell pinched the bridge of his nose. "If that kid even utters a word—" He sighed out a frustrated growl, shot Quinn a look, and walked out of the room.


Judy's eyes were critical as they passed over everyone at the dinner table. Russell had said nothing all dinner except to compliment Judy's mashed potatoes, and Quinn's face was practically in her meal by this point. Frannie casted the occasional glance to her, even nudged her once, but Quinn hadn't spoken a word.

"How was everyone's day?" Judy cordially asked.

Frannie grinned. "Ashton and I went to the Central Park Zoo today." Her exuberance bothered Quinn. But she didn't really have the heart to tell her sister to shut up, so she casually angled her body away and forked through her cold peas.

Ashton was Frannie's boyfriend, a nice New England boy she had met nearly two years ago while helping Quinn move into her dorm at Yale. He was a year younger than Frannie, but a Yale graduate, which meant their father couldn't have been more proud.

Russell perked up in his chair at the mention of Ashton, and Judy smiled. "That's wonderful, Frannie. Why didn't he join us for dinner?"

Frannie dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "He has family to visit that'll tie him up for the next few days. Then he'll come over for family dinner."

Quinn sank further into her seat with a morose scowl. She hadn't brought anyone over for family dinners in nearly three years. It was her very last boyfriend, a blonde who played football and wasn't too bright, but was very respectful of the physical boundaries Quinn had placed on their relationship.

Her parents loved him, just as they loved Frannie's boyfriend. They loved just about any boy either daughter would bring around, and Quinn furrowed blonde eyebrows in thought of how her parents would react if she popped up one day with a girlfriend to bring to dinner.

Rachel would probably hate it here, though. Quinn rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand as she narrowed her eyes across the table at her parents. She saw her parents as too rigid for a loudmouth, spirited person like Rachel. Her parents were stifling beings, whereas Rachel was this butterfly who even Quinn couldn't contain.

Not that she wanted to.

Quinn found she liked Rachel best when she was just out of reach, because catching her was always a thrill.

"How was your day, Quinn?"

Her head had wandered into the clouds. The familiar annoyed crinkle in her forehead presented itself as she placed her hands back in her lap once more. "Fine."

Russell sucked his teeth. "Q had a great day, apparently. She was photographed out and about."

Judy smiled indulgently. "Glad to see that you're getting over your shyness of the shutterbug."

"Yeah," Russell grunted. "Real great, real great. She was photographed at a gay demonstration, actually. Kissing a woman."

Quinn sucked in a breath and dropped her fork on her plate.

Frannie blinked in muted shock. She eyeballed everyone at the table before folding her arms across her chest and leaning back in her seat to separate herself.

"I don't understand…" Judy eventually murmured once she came to from her stupor.

Russell reached into his pocket. "Don't worry, I have pictures."

"Dad, don't." Quinn dragged her tongue along her lower lip nervously.

Russell ground out, "Don't be shy now, Quinn. You certainly didn't appear shy in the photo," then placed his arms on the table in an aggressive stance.

"Why would you kiss another woman?" Judy asked in a dazed voice.

It seemed to be the million dollar question, because Quinn and Russell stopped bickering the moment it was asked. Russell leaned back in his seat as if he wasn't prepared for the answer, and Quinn clasped her hands together and wedged them between her thighs, a demure tick she had carried into young adulthood.

"I don't think it's that big of a mystery," Quinn ventured, with hesitance.

Russell shook his head to himself. "Of all the things…"

Quinn cut him a sharp look. "Don't act as if you're surprised." She scanned everyone at the table with bright, piercing eyes. "No one should be surprised."

"This must be a recent development," Russell asserted. "That's the only explanation; you've been such a good girl your entire life." His eyebrows bunched together in confusion as his mind worked backward. "The only thing you've done recently—aside from that photograph—is drop out of Yale—"

"To attend an all-girl liberal arts school?" Quinn arched a challenging eyebrow.

Frannie huffed out a quiet laugh.

"You've had boyfriends!" Judy exclaimed with shaking hands waving through the air. They rose and lowered in indecision as if all she wanted to do was rip her hair out in confusion. "How can you go from that to-to—"

"To what?" Quinn dared her to answer, but Judy's mouth crumbled shut.

"I agree with your mother," Russell's stern voice interrupted. He placed his elbows on the table and cut his eyes to Quinn. "You've had boyfriends all your life."

Quinn scoffed. "'All my life' was a total of three years I've spent dating," she stipulated. "Since then I haven't had a boyfriend in three years."

"You brought them to our house—"

"Barely. I rarely talked about them unless you brought them up and wouldn't leave me alone until I complimented whatever guy I was dating."

Russell frowned deeply and muttered, "I just assumed you weren't that interested in them because you weren't quite at that stage of maturity where boys interested you."

"Yeah, well, I'm twenty now, dad," Quinn told him. Acid dripped from her voice defensively as she told him, "And boys still fail to interest me. I think it's safe to assume I'll never be interested in them."

He gritted his teeth. "Lose the attitude. Parents don't just come knowing the signs of a gay child, Quinn, or how to deal with one."

"Yeah, well, you have one, dad," she responded. Her voice had grown meek and all she could push up her throat was, "Okay?"

Frannie lifted her hand as if to tag herself into the scuffle. "I think all of us had some…idea of this, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not." She met everyone's eyes. "This isn't a surprise. The picture, maybe, but certainly not the content of it. Quinn hasn't brought a boy home in years, and never speaks about being interested in one."

Russell stood from his seat. He grabbed his plate and glass of now room temperature scotch. Jaw tense, he looked from his oldest to his youngest with a stern downturn of his lips. "Just—don't screw this election up for me, Quinn. That's all I'm asking of you right now. Be more discreet if you insist on…living the life you've chosen."

"I didn't choose it," Quinn murmured as he bypassed her toward the kitchen without a backwards glance.

Judy cleared her throat and noisily scooted her chair backward to stand. "I'll go wash the dishes," she said quietly.

There was only Frannie and Quinn left to listen to the sounds of tense, muffled voices masked by dish water rushing from the faucet in the kitchen.

Frannie studied her sister's profile for a moment, then tugged on a lock of her hair until Quinn glanced over at her. "Well, that went well. Let's go watch a movie."

"Well?" Quinn snorted. "You think that went well? They didn't say anything!"

Frannie scooted closer to rub her back until Quinn deflated back into her seat. "Look at it this way: they didn't kick you out to live on the street or anything."

"Only because it'd be a huge scandal for dad," Quinn mumbled. She scrubbed at her reddening eyes, and turned away to keep her sister from seeing her cry.

Frannie grabbed her shoulder. "Come here, Little Q," she murmured. She scooted her chair closer and enveloped Quinn in a hug. "You know how this family works, Quinn. We don't like change and we're slow to adjust when faced with it. Give them time."

Quinn shuddered in Frannie's arms. Tears clung stupidly to her eyelashes and she growled in frustration. "They shouldn't need time to accept their own daughter."

"No, they shouldn't," Frannie readily agreed. "But they do, and that's not something we can change." She kissed the top of her sister's head. "Stop worrying about them. Be proud of yourself. Okay? You just did something that so many people can't do, and live in fear of doing every single day."

Quinn nodded in recognition of what she had done and shrugged all at once with that little pout on her face that she never admitted to that her sister thought was adorable.

"Let's just put this to bed for now. You did what you felt you had to do, and the ball is in their court now, not yours. So let that weight lift from your shoulders and watch a movie with me."

Quinn grabbed Frannie's forearm and lifted her head from her shoulder to look at her. "Okay," she whispered.

The corners of Frannie's mouth curled up. "I heard lesbians like that Imagine Me & You movie."

Quinn felt her cheeks burn in mortification and she whipped back to cup them while glaring at her sister. "Francine!"

"Kidding," Frannie sing-songed as she grabbed for Quinn's hand to tug her upstairs.


Quinn could tell Rachel had a passion for the stage. In the dimly lit room of NYADA's auditorium, Rachel's eyes still shinned and glued themselves to the play before them. She was on the very edge of her seat, gripping armrests on both sides of her, so Quinn only had one, which she would gripe to Rachel about later.

It was the only time in two weeks Quinn had known Rachel to be silent. She hadn't uttered a word in nearly two hours and shushed Quinn the second she asked where the restroom was.

Here in the theater, in front of a play, was a completely different side of Rachel, one Quinn was unused to yet intrigued by. She was interested in talking to this Rachel. She wanted to crawl inside her head and pick apart her thoughts all while Rachel watched the play unfold.

For now, though, Quinn kind of just watched her, discreetly from the corner of her eyes, because Rachel would lick her lips ever so often as if watching theater geeks deliver lines just made her wet—which was—

Nice.

It was nice.

Just…that.

"What did you think of the play?" Rachel asked afterward once they were outside the theater, breathless as if she had run a mile or had mind blowing sex.

Quinn slowed her stride as Rachel fell in step beside her. She looped her arm through Quinn's, and Quinn glanced up and around to the people around them.

Rachel stiffened when she felt Quinn's entire body seize. She dropped their point of contact and looked up at Quinn. "You're not really out, are you?"

The pretty features she was growing fond of seeing everyday pinched in agitation as Quinn searched for an appropriate response. Her hands curled and uncurled into fists at her side, and Rachel smiled in sympathy. "It's okay. We can just go to my room." She tilted her head in the direction of her dorm. "Come on."

Quinn did another quick scan of her surroundings as Rachel began to walk ahead and reached out and snagged her hand. It was warm and soft and tightened reflexively even as Rachel was unsure of what any of this meant. "Quinn, you don't have to—"

"I've never been one for the stage," Quinn spoke up in reference to Rachel's earlier question as she took a step forward. "I prefer film."

Rachel licked her lips. She liked confidence and seemed to find it in spades in this woman. But it was the little moments of uncertainty that endeared Quinn to her above all else. Deciding she could play along, Rachel scoffed and twisted her hips to bump against Quinn as they fell in step with each other. "Are you one of those snobs who just have to differentiate between what's a movie and what's a film?"

"All I'm saying is that Pretty in Pink—while a good movie—wasn't a film."

A squeal of complete indignity shot from Rachel's throat, and Quinn laughed in pleasant surprise at the sound. "That's a great movie!"

"Yeah, movie being the operative word here."

Rachel pushed out her lower lip. "I liked it."

"Hey, look, I'm on your side," Quinn cajoled in a saccharine voice that really wasn't sweet at all. "Pretty in Pink was fantastic. It just happened to be a movie."

Rachel tugged on Quinn's arm to pull her to a stop right outside her dorm. She dropped her hand to grasp Quinn's and allowed them to dangle by their sides. "Well, Little Miss Snooty, what would you consider a film?"

Quinn shrugged and tilted her head as she pretended to think. "Something like Love Me Tonight would—"

"Oh, of course," Rachel droned sarcastically.

Quinn squinted down at her, and stepped closer. "Don't act as if I haven't seen it on your lower shelf of DVDs."

Rachel plucked at a button on Quinn's dress resting on her lower abdomen. Her smile was coy as she looked up at Quinn through her eyelashes. "You should come in and watch it with me."


It was sticky hot in Rachel's room. The kind of day that made Quinn wonder just when Rachel's last day of school was, because she saw heat stroke in her future.

"Oh, I'm not going home for the summer," Rachel answered off-handedly as they each committed to their own side of the narrow bed—Quinn's orders.

Quinn wheezed out a breath in the hot room that, okay, may have been a little dramatic. "Why?"

Rachel scratched at the back of her thigh, and the bed shifted underneath them from her contortions. It almost made Quinn giggle, the novelty of sharing a bed with someone. The last and only person she shared a bed with was Frannie when they were younger and Quinn was too afraid of the dark to sleep in her own room.

"It costs a fortune to be here, and I need to keep working my job at the coffee shop to help my fathers pay my tuition. So I've decided to stay."

Quinn steepled her fingers together and placed her hands on her stomach. "That's a very adult decision to make," she conceded. "Still, I hope they at least put you up in a dorm with air conditioning for the summer."

Rachel's lips quirked into a smile. "They will." She turned her head to face Quinn. "I'm hoping for more pretty blondes with deep pockets to frequent the coffee shop this summer."

The comment piqued Quinn's interest, and she sat up a little on the bed, voice strained from her new position, or possibly from Rachel's comment. "Would you be interested in other pretty blondes frequenting the coffee shop?"

Rachel sank further into the pillow below her head as she stared up at the pair of stormy hazel eyes boring into her own. "I would only be interested in one pretty blonde frequenting my establishment."

For some reason, Quinn blushed, and Rachel giggled and leaned up on her elbows while Quinn was distracted to kiss her on the nose. "I happen to like you," Rachel whispered the secret against her lips.

"You'd better," Quinn growled, willing her blush to dissipate.

"Well, I would hope so. I don't just go around kissing anyone."

"You liar."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "I'm not lying."

"Good, you better not be."

Her lips pulled into a coy smile as she leaned closer to Quinn. "And if I was?"

"Then I would have to lock you in your room and the only people besides me you'd see would be that funny looking gay kid and your crass roommate."

Rachel tipped her head back with an obnoxious laugh. "Their names are Kurt and Millicent."

Quinn trailed a languorous path down Rachel's throat with her eyes. "Minor details," she hummed.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Obviously." She dragged her eyes down to find Quinn watching her with heavy lidded eyes. "See something you like?" Something that New York had taught Rachel that Lima hadn't was what general interest from a woman looked like. And to see that look on Quinn's face, directed at her of all people made her body flush.

She toyed with the collar of Quinn's dress then moved her lips along the column of her throat.

Quinn hummed again for a completely different reason now. "It's too hot for that."

"It's never too hot to kiss a beautiful girl," Rachel mumbled into her.

"My boiling skin begs to differ," Quinn argued for argument's sake even as she tilted her head to give Rachel more ground to cover.

She wondered when he had become the girl who could be fed easy lines instead of the pragmatic tightwad who gave guys a hard time in high school.

Her hand found Rachel's thigh easily, the skin toned and silky smooth. Quinn caressed her with a careful thumb and surprised her own self when it brushed the rougher fabric of a dreadful plaid skirt.

Rachel panted into the thick air around them then bit Quinn's collarbone. She felt Quinn twitch around her, and tore her mouth away completely to return to her own side of the bed—an inch away, if that. "You may have been right. It's really hot."

Quinn pressed her thighs together and slumped back against the bed with a sigh. "You decided that now?" She sat up with a huff and climbed over Rachel.

Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise and placed a hand low on Quinn's hip to 'assist' her off the bed. "Are you leaving?"

"No." Quinn shot her a look then turned to stretch what felt like liquefied legs. She busied herself around the room, and Rachel sat up along the bed, drew her legs up to her chest and watched her with captivated eyes.

"What are you looking for?"

"Water," Quinn answered when she spotted a small black refrigerator in the corner of the room. Cool air burst out of the now open door to splash against her chest, and goose bumps prickled happily along her skin.

The refrigerator was packed from corner to corner with food, not that Quinn was surprised. Rachel had stocked up enough for a New York winter even though it was spring. "No eggs?" she prompted, only half joking.

"Vegan."

It was rumbling, the refrigerator, and Quinn hadn't heard her correctly. She swiped up her bottle of water and stood to face Rachel, kicking the fridge door closed. "Excuse me?"

Rachel tossed her legs over the edge of the bed to dangle them from where she sat. Her feet didn't quite reach the floor, but she ignored that most days. "I'm a vegan."

Quinn rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she took a sip of her drink. She felt it slither down her insides and shivered as she walked toward Rachel. "Don't tell me you're just like those girls from high school who decided to go vegan because it was the hip new thing to say and made them skinny, even though most of them were just fat cows."

When Quinn was within touching distance, Rachel crooked a finger under the hem of her dress to draw her closer. She simpered, indulgently, and rocked her neck a little with a smug retort. "Actually, I'm a vegan because I refuse to eat animals or animal byproducts." She carried a haughty air around her as most vegans Quinn had known tended to do.

Quinn smirked.

"So if I came here tomorrow with a fur coat—"

"I'd burn it," Rachel shot back.

Quinn's jaw dropped in indignation before her lips curled down. "That's rude."

Rachel's lower lip jutted out as she stood to envelop Quinn in a hug. "Aww, baby, we can buy you a nice faux-fur coat that'll look just like a real one."

Quinn ignored the way her stomach fluttered. "Ha-ha," she replied dryly. She looped an arm around Rachel's shoulders in a halfhearted hug and took another sip of her water. That was when she got a devilish idea that made horns sprout from her head.

"Quinn!" Rachel yelped just a few seconds later. Her back was arched in protest of the ice cold water seeping into her shirt all the way down her spine. She could barely move and shivered a little under the dual assault of the cold water and hot room.

Quinn's mouth was gaping in her own humor over the situation. She bit her lip to stifle a smile and nodded to herself as she informed Rachel, "Baby, I think you're all wet."

"Immature," Rachel muttered with a shake of her head. "You are incredibly immature."

Quinn leaned lower to be eye level. "Are you upset?"

In a split second blitzkreig attack, Rachel lunged forward to rip the bottle from Quinn's hand. Quinn had just enough time to turn her head away before Rachel poured the remainder of the bottle down the front of her dress.

A breathy gasp tore from the back of Quinn's throat as her back bowed in reaction to the cold water seeping into the thin material of her dress. Her breath hitched. "Okay, what I did was a joke. But this was just plain childish," she croaked out.

Rachel's lips were pursed into a smug smile as she made a show of dropping the empty bottle onto the floor. "Don't mess with me, Fabray. I'm known to win everything."

"You're cleaning that up," Quinn told her.

Rachel shrugged and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the damage done. She walked her eyes up to Quinn's dress to find a pink bra staring back at her through the fabric, and doubled over in laughter.

Quinn pinked a shade dark her than her bra. Her hands curled into fists at her side before she lunged for Rachel.

"Quinn, no!"

Before Rachel could even move, Quinn had wrapped both arms around her neck and smashed the length of their bodies together. Rachel shivered and tried to slip away, but Quinn only stepped closer until Rachel's knees bent and they were tumbling to her bed. She felt warm lips brush against her neck and shivered for a completely different reason as her head tipped back. "We are so over," Rachel panted.

Quinn chuckled into her neck. "Just beginning, actually."