The sun is stupidly bright and everywhere.
Quinn's hand clamps over her eyes because the damn sun is exploding or something and she can't see because it's taking over everything. Like, encompassing the earth and destroying everything in its path.
It has to be.
Because her head is killing her.
She turns on her side and pulls the blanket up over her head. In addition to the supernova or whatever is happening outside, it's absolutely freezing in her room, which seems totally backwards if the planet is being absorbed into a fiery star, but she's not a scientist.
More importantly, her pillow feels weird.
Because she's not at home. She's at the reunion.
Or, she was at the reunion. It's over now. Mostly. There's still an informal party at Puck's place tonight, something for all the original New Directions kids over at his house. He moved out here to Vegas the year after graduation to become a blackjack dealer and has actually been doing pretty well for himself, playing in a "Rockers of the 80s" cover band on the nights he isn't working the table games. She knows he sends Beth all kinds of casino swag from snow globes to custom chips with her name on them. She has no idea if the now twelve year old still thinks they're cool or not.
Quinn finally risks braving the sunlight to take a look at the clock, because she's supposed to meet Santana and Brittany around three to go shopping and maybe gamble a little. At least long enough to get a free bloody mary to help take the edge off of this hangover. The edge of the blanket folds down and she cracks and eye open to look at the clock on the nightstand, but the clock isn't there. Which is weird, because she knows it was on the right side, because it's the same side she keeps her glasses when she's at home. Although, she can see everything just fine, which means she's still wearing her contacts. She must have been too drunk to take them out, last night.
Oh god, last night. There was a lot of liquor, because Mike was showing off his Tom Cruise in Cocktail moves and Santana kept insisting they do shots.
She rolls over onto her other side, to see if she's just totally turned around, given the jet lag and the drinking and the fact that her head is pounding, but someone else is in the bed.
That would explain the missing clock and the contacts.
She went back to someone else's room.
Actually, now that she thinks about it, these sheets feel awfully smooth against her skin. Because she's completely naked and a quick assessment of the other body under the covers suggests they they're naked, too. And that they're a woman.
Quinn manages a quiet laugh, because she's relieved that she isn't absolutely losing it. She's also glad the earth isn't on a collision course with the sun, either. She's hungover after a one night stand with someone who couldn't possibly knock her up. And she's in Vegas, so this is absolutely par for the course.
"Rach," her voice is froggy, deeper than usual.
The smaller form shifts and the head of dark hair adjusts against the pillow. "Mm sleepin'..."
There's really no need to force Rachel awake, just yet, so Quinn peels the covers away from herself and sits on the edge of the bed. The room's much bigger than hers and looks to be in a different casino. Actually, if she's with Rachel in Rachel's room, they're probably at Mandalay Bay, because Rachel's still in the Vegas production of Mamma Mia until the end of the year. And, actually, the room is likely a suite, because it's where she lives.
Quinn doesn't really remember anything about the space. She hopes a shower will help and quietly moves toward the bathroom, leaving Rachel to sleep off her own hangover. While the water warms up, she's not above rummaging through the medicine cabinet for some kind of painkillers. She finds a bottle of extra strength Advil next to a box of Benadryl. Next to that is a bottle of Chloraseptic and it's then that she realizes the damn cabinet is alphabetized.
The mirror's already beginning to fog up, but Quinn manages to catch a glimpse of a moderately sized hickey on the base of her neck. There are two more on her left breast and another on her stomach. She wonders if she left any on Rachel, but everything past the last round of Jager shots is all fog that isn't ready to clear.
What she can recall are bits and pieces from earlier in the evening.
"Quinn!" The bear hug Rachel gives her feels three times too strong to come from someone so slight. Maybe it just feel strong because Quinn's already two drinks into the evening.
"I saw you last night, you were incredible. But the security guy was a dick so I wasn't able to wait."
"I got your message and, I know, Carl is something of an ass. How was your drive, was it okay?"
"Yeah. It's about five hours, not too bad."
"I was thinking yesterday about how we've been living so close to each other for, what, a year? And this is the first time we've seen each other? But then Noah lives in town and I've seen him all of twice, so..." Rachel seems like she's had a couple drinks herself, which isn't a shock because it's an open bar and the whole
"I know, I know. I wanted to get out sooner, but they have us working to promote the new series and it's non-stop."
"I can't wait to see it. Though, honestly, I'm still so upset that the other one was cancelled. It was really good."
"That's so sweet of you."
"I mean it!"
She's not sure if it's the shower or the painkillers or both, but by the time she wraps herself in one of the big fluffy white towels, Quinn already feels better. There's a soft knock on the door.
"You can come in. I'm decent. Sort of."
The bathroom door pushes open and there's Rachel, wrapped in a terrycloth robe that's two sizes too big for her. "Good morning," she offers.
"Morning." Despite the hot shower, Quinn's mouth is in desperate need of freshening up, so she asks, "You don't happen to have a-"
Rachel points toward a drawer to her right. "In there."
"- spare toothbrush?" Sure enough, there are at least three unopened toothbrushes in the drawer, along with assorted other miniature toiletries. "You have a lot of unexpected overnight guests?" Quinn asks, her right eyebrow arching up.
"You're the one who needs it," Rachel mumbles from around her own mouthful of toothpaste.
"Touche." Quinn leans against the counter and brushes her teeth alongside Rachel, amused at the mundane quality of this particular morning after.
"Shut up, you did not!"
"I did!" Rachel has to shout to be heard over the music of the band, which is comprised of their collective ex-boyfriends and a couple other people they don't know.
"You're a liar. You were all about Finn and that's all you ever talked about."
"Yes. I was content with Finn, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have a crush on you. Besides you were hyperfocused on getting out of there. You wouldn't have cared."
"You can't be serious." Quinn shakes her head and takes a deep drink of her vodka and cranberry. She almost didn't come to this thing, this New Directions reunion, because she has no idea who most of the people here even are. But then, she'd known Rachel would be there.
"Am I wrong?"
"No, you're right about me wanting out, but... Rach, I spent two hundred bucks on Metro passes. So we could see each other. I just thought it was one-sided, so I never said anything."
"Okay, now you're just making fun of me."
"I'm not! It's why I didn't want to come to your stupid wedding!"
"I thought it was because you wanted me to succeed without Finn dragging me down."
Rachel's eyes are bright as she looks up at Quinn and it's then that Quinn realizes just how close they're standing. Maybe it's just because of the music, so they can hear each other over the strains of the Foreigner cover that's blaring through the reception hall.
"So, you're saying that this whole time, it would have been absolutely okay for me to..."
It's not until the final chorus of "Feels Like the First Time" that Quinn finally pulls her lips away from Rachel's and says, "Yeah," before pressing their mouths back together and groaning at the feeling of Rachel's tongue against her own.
Quinn can't find her underwear. It's not in the bedroom.
"Maybe you took them off in the cab," Rachel suggests.
"I would never-" Quinn's ears are red at the implication, but then she isn't even sure if she can rule it out. "Did we take a cab?"
"I... have no idea." Rachel's dressed in a casual skirt and tank top, no polka-dots or animals to be seen on either of them. She looks rather elegant for someone who just rolled out of bed less than twenty minutes ago.
Quinn's in her dress from the previous night, shoes in hand, and still missing one last piece of her wardrobe. "Were we... in here for... everything?"
Rachel's about to shrug, but stops herself. "Actually, no." She exits the bedroom into the rest of the suite. "Aha!" she calls from the living room.
"Do I want to know where?"
"That's up to-"
Quinn figures she might as well just find out, because it's not like it's a secret she and Rachel obviously had some kind of wild night together. Honestly, she's open to exploring it and seeing where it goes, because they have a mutual interest in each other and what could have been inevitable disaster is going rather smoothly, as far as she's concerned.
Her panties are on the coffee table, next to a piece of paper. "Great. Right next to your... what is that, the room service bill?"
"Technically, they were on top of it and... it's... not a room service bill." Rachel picks up the paper and hands it to Quinn.
Quinn's eyes scan the page and while she immediately knows what she's looking at, it's not until she gets halfway down the page that it hits her.
"... join in lawful wedlock Rachel Barbra Berry of New York, New York... and L. Quinn Fabray of Echo Park, California..."
"Holy shit." Quinn drops onto the couch. "We... no... this has to be a joke. Puck... or Santana."
"I think I need to call my publicist."
"Yeah, me too."