SUMMARY: During their first semester at college, Rachel succumbs to/embraces the wonders of technology.

SPOILERS: Future AU so none.

NOTES: The first fic in the Skype series (a link to the notes is on my profile)

An alert draws Quinn's attention to her half-shut laptop sitting on the corner of her desk amongst sketch pads and unfinished drawings. Glancing down at her current piece of work, she makes a face, tosses the pad onto her desk and reaches for the laptop, assuming its Santana, bored out of her mind at her late-night Tuesday seminar.

Lifting it over to her bed, she stretches out and clicks the notification at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. Though Santana is online ('Zzzzzz in class'), the alert has come from a friend request. With a grin, Quinn accepts and waits for the person to appear online.

Rachel Berry

The name pops up and Quinn clicks it immediately, opening up a chat screen.

"Hey, technophobic girlfriend," she types.

Immediately the little pencil above the text box starts scribbling furiously indicating that Rachel is typing her response. Quinn waits expectantly, twirling her pencil between her fingers before growing bored and opening up another conversation with Santana.

"Sleeping yet?" she asks.

"Pretty much. New Professor next week. Can't wait."

Santana adds an emoticon of a stickman dancing.

"Your hobbit came to visit yesterday. She looks exhausted. Tell her to take it easy or she'll be burned out by Christmas. Not that I care or anything."

"I'll tell RACHEL about your concerns. Not that you care. Or anything."

"Shut it," Santana sends with a winking smiley. "Need to take notes. Bye."

"Don't work too hard," Quinn closes down the window and returns to Rachel's chat screen. Finally her message comes through.

"I'll have you know that I am not 'phobic' of anything. There are connotations of hate in that word (see: homophobia) and I don't hate anything. Although I am starting to firmly dislike this computer. It's taken me half an hour to pick a username for this program. Can you believe that 'futurebroadwaystar' and 'barbrasno1fan' are taken?"

Quinn chuckles and rolls her eyes.

"Coulrophobia," she sends back.

"Well, clowns are just weird. Hi by the way."

"Hey you," Quinn replies. "Don't freak out. I'm going to hit video call in a few seconds."

"I look like hell," Rachel warns.

"Not possible."

Quinn moves the mouse over to the green button and presses it, suddenly nervous about seeing her girlfriend's face properly for the first time in two months. She's also worried about Rachel's reaction to her…

"OH MY GOD!" Rachel shouts. "What have you done to your hair?"

Groaning, Quinn reaches for a pillow and holds it in front of her face.

"I told you I had a haircut," Quinn says.

"Move the pillow away," Rachel instructs, sounding slightly calmer. When Quinn peeks over the top of the pillow, Rachel is peering curiously at the screen. "It's a little drastic."

"It'll grow back," Quinn says, tossing the pillow away and running her fingers through what's left of her hair. "It really isn't that short. It feels awesome."

"Awesome," Rachel rolls the word around her mouth before grinning. "Anything else I need to know before we continue? Tattoos? Piercings?"

Quinn colours slightly at the word before turning her head to the left. Rachel's mouth drops open.

"Quinn."

"Again, when the hair grows back in, you won't even know it's there," Quinn rationalises.

"I like the earring," Rachel says though she sounds a little unsure. "And I'm already starting to like the hair. It won't be pink at Christmas, will it?"

"I was thinking red and green…"

"I'm hanging up," Rachel interrupts.

"I'm kidding," Quinn calls. "I'm kidding. Look, one of the girls on my course needed a model and I'd just had my hair cut so we put some pink dye in it. It'll be gone in a couple of weeks. I think you'll like the photos."

"Are you naked?" Rachel exclaims.

"What?" Quinn splutters. "No! I tell you you'll like them and you immediately jump to naked…"

"It's been two months, Quinn," Rachel says. "Maybe naked photos would ease the pain."

Quinn pauses, staring blankly at the screen.

"So, the hair, the piercing… how's everything else?" Rachel continues, pretending to check her nails while her girlfriend's imagination starts to run riot.

"Hmm?" Quinn murmurs, shaking her head slightly. "Oh, everything is fine. Classes are good. I spoke to my mom earlier and she's already counting the days until I get home for Christmas. My sister and her family are flying in too so at least they can distract her while you and I sneak off somewhere…"

"You have to spend some time with your family," Rachel chastises, attempting to look stern.

"Liar, you can't wait to meet me at the airport so you can kidnap me for a couple of weeks," Quinn says. "On the phone last week, I believe your exact words were 'screw your family, you're coming to stay at my place'."

"Well, I miss you," Rachel says, looking sad all of a sudden. "I knew it would be difficult even though we talk most days but I'd be lying if I said that your mom is the only one counting down the days."

"I'm counting too," Quinn admits. "You're happy though, in New York?"

For a brief moment, Quinn wants Rachel to say no, to say that she hates it and that she wants to move to the West Coast.

"The only thing I dislike about this city is its lack of you," Rachel says, disappearing out of view for a couple of seconds. She returns wearing Quinn's favourite hoody.

"I knew you stole it," Quinn says, grinning at the screen. "My mom would never have thrown it away."

"It's three hundred degrees over there, it's not as though you need it," Rachel glances down, pulling the sleeves over her hands. "It's freezing here."

"Another reason you should come here," Quinn says, watching Rachel roll her eyes.

"Or maybe you could move here and keep me warm," Rachel counters, picking up the laptop to adjust the blankets covering her lower half.

"I spoke to Santana earlier," Quinn says, changing the subject before they end up having another semi-argument about their bi-coastal relationship. "She says you're exhausted."

"We're all exhausted," Rachel notes. "I have classes and rehearsals. She has classes and then more classes then seminars and I'm pretty sure Brittany could enter the record books with the amount of hours she spends dancing in a day."

"I know," Quinn says, feeling more than a little guilty that yesterday morning she had time to take a surfing lesson with some of the girls from her dorm. "You're allowed to relax though. Take some time out and watch a movie or something."

Rachel mumbles a response that Quinn doesn't catch.

"What did you say?" Quinn asks, leaning closer to the laptop.

"I suck at watching movies without you," Rachel repeats. "We used to sit and pick out our favourite parts and talk about it afterwards but I don't have anyone to do that with now so it's easier to just… not watch them."

Quinn frowns, feeling her heart sink a little lower. She picks up her phone, out of Rachel's view, and opens up an app that lets her check flights.

"We could watch one together. On Skype."

"You want me to take my laptop to the movie theatre?" Rachel asks, brow wrinkling in thought.

"I meant, we could both get a copy of the same movie then have like… long-distance date night," Quinn says, finding the flight she needs. She shoots off a quick text to her mom and glances back up at the screen.

"That sounds nice," Rachel says. "Sorry if I'm whining a lot. It's been a long couple of days and my dads are still a little upset about me staying in New York for Thanksgiving. I'm starting to think that I'll just skip a rehearsal and go home, just to keep the peace."

"No!" Quinn exclaims before realising how forceful she sounds. "I mean, you've been looking forward to cooking dinner with your friends, right? Your first independent Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, but I'm missing Hanukkah too…" Rachel wrestles with the decision that's been niggling at the back of her brain for the past few weeks.

"I think you should stay in New York," Quinn says. "I'm sending you something for Thanksgiving and it'll pretty much suck if you're not there to get it."

"A present?" Rachel asks, eyes lighting up. On the bedspread, Judy's reply flashes up on the screen of Quinn's phone.

"Yup, but if you go home, then you can't get it so I guess you'll have to stay and force tofurkey on Santana," Quinn says, opening up Judy's message.

Book the flights. Merry Christmas! Xxx

"What are you grinning at?" Rachel asks, peering at the screen.

"My mom just sent me a message. I was worried about her when I first moved out here," Quinn says, trying to veer away from the contents of Judy's text. "With Olivia in Portland and Russell… well, the less said the better, but she's great. She's out almost every evening, volunteering and taking night classes."

"I think my dad needs to do something like that," Rachel says. "He has way too much time on his hands now."

Rachel starts to yawn, attempting to hide it behind her hand.

"I saw that," Quinn says. "You should go to bed."

"I should," Rachel agrees. "I have a class at nine and I'm supposed to be meeting a couple of people for breakfast at eight."

"And I have some work to finish for tomorrow," Quinn says, glaring in the direction of her desk where inspiration has been failing to reach her for the entire afternoon.

"Happy drawing," Rachel says, stifling an even larger yawn.

"Sweet dreams, see you soon!"

"Not soon enough," Rachel says and blows a kiss towards the screen. Quinn sends one back and hesitates. "Love you."

"Love you too," Quinn replies, feeling butterflies erupt somewhere inside. Rachel waves once more before the call drops. "See you in ten days," Quinn whispers to the blank screen before closing the laptop down and heading back to her desk. The portrait she'd been working on before stares back at her, barely started and completely shapeless. She tears it from the pad, scrunches it up and tosses it backwards into her bin. With Rachel's smile at the forefront of her mind, she begins to draw, inspiration settling over her once more.