"Drum Fills in Our Hearts"

Part 2 Chapter 4 - Would I be standing in front of you?

New York has always been Rachel's. Even when they were in high school, New York belonged to Rachel and Rachel belonged to New York. After their separation, after high school, New York was still Rachel's, but it wasn't hers alone. It had become Quinn's, too. It belonged to Quinn and Puck and jazz music and the smell of stale smoke at the Village Vanguard. It belonged to a sea of taxi cabs and green spaces fighting for their place amongst asphalt. Quinn had come to know New York and New York did not belong solely to Rachel. Rather, it still belonged to Rachel, but that only lingered somewhere deeper and deeper in the recesses of Quinn's mind each time she came. Each new trip through the Holland Tunnel brought her one step closer to evicting Rachel.

But this time, New York was different.

This time, New York was Rachel's alone.

In a stroke of luck or bad juju, their fifth gig was canceled. Some famous pop artist who'd gotten his start in the jazz world wanted to do a drop-in and try out some jazz standards and Jimmy, the owner, booted The Cats for the night in favor of this guy. Puck and a few of the boys were headed up there still to catch a few bars with the guy, but he was the last thing on Quinn's mind.

Instead, she allowed herself a few extra hours of sleep, a rarity on her hectic touring schedule.

At noon, Quinn finally awoke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand.

A text from Rachel.

Should I meet you at the bar tonight?

It reminded her of the morning after her high school meltdown with Rachel, when she shook her head over and over again and couldn't distinguish if her memory was dream or reality. She was tense and breathless and bewildered all at once.

She and Rachel had a date. For that night. Rachel liked her. Or seemed to like her. At least when they were drinking. But she didn't want every meaningful moment with Rachel to be clouded in a haze of alcohol.

Gig's canceled tonight, she replied.

The phone rang a few moments later.

"Canceled?" Rachel began, foregoing the 'hello.'

Quinn gave a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, long story. But it's ok. It's not for a bad reason or anything."

"If you say so," Rachel replied. "So what's your plan for the day, then?"

"Don't know, hadn't really thought of it yet. I just woke up," Quinn said bashfully.

"Just woke up? Quinn! I've been awake for four hours already. I did a dance aerobics class at the gym this morning, made a trip to the dry cleaners, and had my ten o'clock voice lesson!"

"I know, Princess Rachel, I know. It just takes a lot out of me to be on the move all the time. Not everyone can be as energetic as Rachel Berry."

"Is that right? Well, how are you feeling now? Energetic enough to spend the afternoon with me?"

With Puck gone and her afternoon and evening free, Quinn couldn't think of much else to do. Given the limited time they'd have left before her return to DC, she decided to forsake 'moving too fast' for 'living in the moment.'

"Does that take the place of our date?"

"Oh, right. Our date."

Quinn's heart sank. Had Rachel forgotten? How would she explain this to Puck and Dr. White? She'd already told them about her plans for the night. She'd contemplated what she'd be telling her mother over Christmas, when she'd ask for the millionth time if there was 'anyone special.' Sure, she and Rachel had arranged the date over the phone, but that just meant there was written evidence of it, not that it was any less meaningful (or even that it didn't exist), right?

"Quinn?"

"Sorry. Was just thinking. I mean, it's not a date. Just hanging out. Or whatever. I mean, we are hanging out tonight, right?"

"Oh, Quinn, I was teasing. Gosh, that was awful of me, I'm sorry honey." Rachel's voice had reached a new octave in her apology.

Quinn felt like she wanted to throw up in relief. Honey. She closed her eyes and imagined Rachel whispering that in her ear as she woke up in the morning. She shook the thought off nearly as quickly.

"I hadn't really planned anything for our date tonight," Rachel confessed. "I just thought we would play it by ear. I'm thinking if you spend the afternoon with me, maybe we can plan it together. Does that sound good?"

...

They met outside of Rachel's apartment in the Lower East Side. Quinn's recollections of the place veered more toward stumbling out of the front doors in the late morning, the sun glaring in her direction and angrily heating her hungover brain near to death.

Rachel wore a bright sundress that radiated off of her skin and it struck Quinn that she hadn't really seen Rachel much in the light of day. She looked younger, more vibrant. She didn't seem so sad or tired. She seemed like the person Rachel had envisioned herself to be, at least to Quinn. For as much as Rachel had seemed to change since high school, there was a lingering memory of a high school Rachel Berry in front of her.

"Hi," Quinn said, nervously. Her mind raced for the next conversation point, while wishing for a shot of anything to take the edge off of feeling so out of sorts.

"Hi," Rachel replied, looking a few inches up at Quinn. "Did you make it over here ok?"

"Yeah. You look...really pretty." Quinn looked back at the ground, her toe digging into the cracked concrete. 'Really pretty' wasn't exactly in the gameplan, but it was out there now.

"You're not so bad yourself," Rachel smiled back and reached for Quinn's hand, clasping it in her own. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" Quinn looked up at her in surprise. Rachel had mentioned planning the date, not having anything already planned.

"There's somewhere I want to take you," she said, as they walked toward the subway station.

Quinn let Rachel lead her, hand holding Rachel's tight as they wound their way through streets lined with honking taxis and dodged air conditioning drops dripping on sidewalks. She allowed herself to be taken, dragged, led away, Rachel's frame lit by a spotlight so that only she was visible on the busy streets of the city.

Once on the train, Quinn's fingers rested in Rachel's lap, her own fingers dancing across Quinn's calloused palm.

"The first time I went to this place, I saw your face." Rachel looked down at their hands, and then shyly up at Quinn. "I nearly had a panic attack, to be honest. Memories of you, the band, your...illness, our argument...they just flooded back. I walked across the street and sat in a coffee shop staring at the facade of the building and willing myself to go in. I didn't even need anything from the place. I just wanted to confront you. I wanted to feel the memory of you again. And I couldn't figure out why. I mean, I'd thought of you a lot - I tried to email you, call you, but I couldn't. But going into this place felt like something I could do. It felt like something that could bring me back to you."

Quinn tried to imagine what could make Rachel think of her. What place in New York? New York belonged to Rachel.

Music on Main in Brooklyn wasn't as big as Mike's Music Shop in Lima, but it smelled the same. Like worn brass and summer sweat and box upon box of fresh sheet music. Guitars hung perilously from the ceiling in shiny reds and deep matte blacks and blues. Amps and speakers were piled into stacks to create makeshift aisles. Tenuous notes echoed from the store's amps as middle-aged men looked to relive their youth with "Stairway to Heaven" solos.

"I used to come here once a week when I lived in Brooklyn. I'd walk around the place, take stock of the new inventory. I'd often walk away with new sheet music to practice or steal a guitar pick from the cashier's table at the front. But I'd always stop by the percussion section." Rachel's eyes carried over the sets of drums, toms, and hi-hats. "I'd run my finger over the silver accents on the drums, flick my finger against the snare, wipe the dust off of the cymbals. And I'd think of you, Quinn."

Quinn dropped her hand for the first time since the Lower East Side. "You'd think of the old Quinn. The old, old Quinn. Nervous. Shy. Controlled to the point of breaking."

Rachel quickly grabbed her hand again and turned squarely to face her. "I'd think of my first friend Quinn. Kind to strangers - I mean, I was a weird, Broadway-obsessed stranger when you first met me. Patient. Thoughtful."

"I'm not that person any more, Rachel."

"I think you're all of the people you were and are and wish you weren't, as well. You're that Quinn and you're the Quinn that you hated and you're the Quinn that's standing in front of me. You're all of those people. And I wouldn't change the person who's standing in front of me, Quinn."

"I was awful."

She reached for Quinn's other hand and took a step closer, so that she found herself looking up into Quinn's eyes, her breath bounding off of Quinn's neck and cheek. She whispered, "And who would you be now, if there wasn't a little piece of you who was awful then? Would you be standing in front of me still? And who would I be now, if there wasn't a little piece of me who was awful then, as well? Would I be standing in front of you?"

...

Digging through the stacks of sheet music at Music on Main, they'd found a book of "Heart's Greatest Hits," which Rachel insisted on buying for Quinn. Sheet music in hand, they'd wandered down the rest of main street, stopping at a record store, cheese shop (which offered no vegan selections, Rachel pointed out), and an antique store.

It had been a few years since Quinn had found herself in this part of Brooklyn. Not since their first big New York City gig, when they'd gone out and celebrated in Brooklyn afterwards. This Brooklyn had certainly changed. Somehow, Rachel had found a decent restaurant that offered a vegan entree beyond substituting a portobello mushroom for a hamburger patty. Quinn had been delighted at the selection of whiskies, but found herself only drinking "one drink, maybe two," as she confirmed with Rachel. Rachel had done the same and landed on two glasses of red wine with dinner.

The train and subsequent walk back to Rachel's place had been a quiet affair, but not much unlike the rest of the day. Aside from some friendly chatter and a few deep moments, they'd enjoyed each others' silences as much as they'd enjoyed one another's conversations.

"A nightcap?" Rachel asked just outside of her apartment door.

Quinn hesitated between moving slowly and moving along. In a few days, she'd be back in DC.

"A nightcap," she confirmed with a shy smile.

Rachel didn't have any whisky. Quinn didn't much mind. One less drink and she'd be in a subway car alone on the way back to the Village. No more drinks and she'd bid Rachel a quiet goodbye with a tentative peck on the lips. One more drink and...she couldn't say, but she could hope.

"Red wine, cognac, Kahlua. Those are your choices, my dear." Rachel's voice called to her from the kitchen.

Quinn laughed, "What do you think, Rach?" She looked over her shoulder to find Rachel smiling back at her from across the island.

"Kahlua it is." She laughed and held the bottle up to Quinn as Quinn jumped off the couch with a "No" and ran around the island to grab hold of the bottle and her hand. They were suddenly so close and Quinn felt the nerves crawling through her spine, down into her gut as she let go of the bottle and felt Rachel's other hand grasp at her side.

"So cognac then?" Rachel whispered, eyes trained on Quinn's.

Quinn licked her lips and nodded.

Instead of moving for the correct bottle, Rachel placed the Kahlua on the island counter and placed her other hand on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn felt herself respond in kind, moving her hands to rest just above Rachel's hips.

Another whisper. "Kiss me, Quinn."

It was nothing like the taxi cab. Nothing like the heated makeout session on the couch just a few feet away. Nothing like her fantasies. It was soft and powerful and innocent and knowing and Quinn couldn't open her eyes or feel her toes.

"Quinn?"

The kiss was over. Rachel was staring at her. "You ok?"

She nodded and gulped.

"Tell me what you're feeling." Rachel's eyes looked up at her and she replayed her request until she comprehended it.

"Uh."

Quinn felt herself again being led by Rachel, her hand mindlessly grasping Rachel's and she focused on following her. They sat together on the couch, drinks forgotten.

"I know this is kind of...lame...and I hate the idea of processing, but I want to know what you're feeling right now."

Quinn had to look away. She had to give herself a chance to hear and think and respond. Looking at Rachel wasn't helping with any of that.

"Nervous." Her sneaker dug itself into the tattered rug.

"Me, too." Rachel whispered. She felt close. Her breath was on Quinn's cheek as she turned back to meet her eyes.

"Really?" Quinn didn't even have the chance to think before asking Rachel. It just seemed so unlike her. She'd been so comfortable and sexual and present.

Rachel laughed at the break in character. "Just because I've done this before doesn't make it old hat. This is special for me." She gently placed her hand on Quinn's thigh to punctuate the last word.

Quinn's eyebrows raised before looking away again. "This? I guess we're going to do 'this.'"

"Oh no, honey. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that, Quinn. Only if you want to, of course." She rubbed her hand down and patted Quinn's knee. "Of course."

"No..." Quinn laid her hand atop Rachel's. "I mean, don't feel sorry. I want to, I just...I feel like something's eating my insides. I doubt that will bode well for my performance, if you know what I mean."

Quinn felt Rachel's cool fingers against her cheek, pulling her face toward her, their eyes meeting. "I'm not looking for some grand spectacle, Quinn. Sex with anyone, virgin or not, is pretty awkward the first time. And, pardon my French for the moment, but I don't usually come the first time I have sex with someone. That doesn't make it any less worthy. Unless, of course, I was hooking up with some dud for the sole purpose of getting my rocks off."

"Oh...is that...you do that?" Quinn felt nervous all over again. Maybe this had been a mistake.

"I haven't in quite a while. It's just not that great when there's no emotional connection with the person you're making love to."

Quinn nodded. "That makes sense."

They sat in silence for a while, Rachel's and Quinn's fingers tangled atop her knee. Save for an occasional glance, Quinn looked everywhere but at Rachel.

"Quinn," Rachel's cool fingers were again directing their eyes to meet, "is there anything I can do to make you feel less nervous?"

Quinn wanted to get up, to pace around the room, or just leave. "I don't know. I don't know."

"It's ok," Rachel's hand still cupped her cheek, anchoring her. "We don't have to do anything at all, Quinn. I don't want you to feel pressured."

"Ok." She closed her eyes and tried to let her heart slow.

"How about we kiss a little? We've done that before. If something more comes up, we can take it as it comes."

Quinn barely opened her eyes. She didn't know this Rachel. She wasn't sure who she'd expected or what she'd expected from Rachel, but she'd never imagined her as this kind, or thoughtful, or patient with her. She'd expected the Rachel who'd demanded promptness to all band practices, who'd practically forced Quinn to do all of her practicing in her basement, who even just a few days ago had crassly asked if Quinn was going to let her "see it." The confusion overwhelmed her.

"You're not even going to make a dirty joke out of that - 'if something more comes up, we can take it as it comes'? I can think of so many good ones."

"Sorry, I just..." Quinn could feel her chest moving up and down, pressing against Rachel and retracting.

"No, you're adorable. I will do everything you want me to do and if you don't want me to do anything, then we won't do anything at all. Ok?" Rachel's fingers moved down to her lips, directing her into another kiss before she could respond.

She was lost in it. Minutes, hours. The sun could have come up. The sun could have gone down. She had no sense of anything else but Rachel. She didn't think about who she was supposed to be or who Rachel was supposed to be. She just was. And she let Rachel be.

"Quinn."

Her cheeks felt hot and Rachel had her hips flush against her. They'd somehow become reclined on the couch. Quinn's t-shirt pushed up a little, exposing her skin to the damp summer air.

"Quinn, I just want to let you know, if you want to stop, we should stop soon."

"Why?" Quinn suddenly felt worried and that she should get up. She pressed against Rachel. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, it's just..." for the first time practically all night, Rachel was the one to break eye contact. "Well, I'm feeling pretty...good. And if you keep making me feel this good, I'm...going to want to rip your pants off probably."

Quinn coughed while Rachel laughed. "I'm doing ok?" Quinn asked, as they regained their composure.

"Really ok, Quinn." She felt Rachel's palm cup her cheek again. "I could say a bunch of dirty things about how 'ok' you're doing, but I don't want to stun you into complete silence. You're already quiet enough as it is tonight."

She felt Rachel's hips press down into her. Quinn had to admit, she hadn't really noticed that. As she started to think about it, she realized that her blood seemed to be flowing downward, as well.

"Oh."

"I would love to keep going," Rachel punctuated with another mindless press of her hips. "But we don't have to."

"No, I like this," Quinn responded quickly.

"Can I...would you mind if I tried something?" Rachel's bottom lip was between her teeth and her sundress was bunched around her waist and Quinn couldn't think of a time when Rachel looked sexier.

"Uh." Nerves. "Like what? I just..." Quinn didn't know what she wanted to say. She wanted an excuse. She wanted to be able to back out for not being good enough, for being different.

"Well, I could do something for you," Rachel cut her off. "Or you could do something for me. Or we could do something together."

"Oh." Quinn pondered the options. She hadn't considered the list that Rachel provided.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. We don't have to do anything at all."

She didn't want to be the primary actor. She didn't want the attention, she decided. "Um, can I do something for you? I mean, I don't...I'm not really sure..."

Rachel leaned down to kiss her before Quinn could land on an excuse or reason. "I would love that."

Quinn swallowed and sat up so that she and Rachel were face to face. "Will you tell me what to do?"

Another kiss. "Of course."

Quinn could barely feel the kiss, her mind was so caught up in the plan. "What could I do? I mean, I can eat you out? Is that a gross thing to say? Like, not sexy? Puck says it a bunch and I guess it's just the first thing that came to my mind. Which means it's probably not the right thing to say. Cunnilingus? That better?"

Rachel laughed at Quinn's disarray. "Quinn." Another kiss. "Relax. Just keep kissing me."

Rachel leaned back and let Quinn slide atop her. She felt lost again. Her cheeks flushed. Her hips flush.

She felt Rachel's hand on hers. "I'm going to move your hand, ok? Just move with me."

She pushed her forehead against Rachel's and nodded until her hand was under Rachel's sundress and against the outside of her underwear. It was damp. It took a moment but it sent a jolt to Quinn's hips.

"Touch," Rachel whispered.

Quinn pressed gently as she watched. Rachel's mouth dropped open. Her eyes fluttered shut.

She took a deep breath in and paused, pushing herself up to look at Rachel, wide-eyed.

She swallowed. "It feels good?"

Rachel opened her eyes. The Quinn in front of her was suddenly eighteen and shaky-handed and too softly spoken. She took a breath and another and another until she felt full and overwhelmed with Quinn's innocence. It was almost too much and she nearly pushed Quinn away. She closed her eyes briefly and pulled Quinn flush on top of her, Quinn's hand trapped between them. Her hand gently ran across Quinn's cheek as she opened her eyes. Quinn stole her breath for a second time. Rachel swallowed and her hand pushed up under Quinn's shirt to rest against her ribs. To feel her body breathe deeply. In. Out.

"Quinn," she whispered.

Quinn felt herself choke, desperately seeking her own breath. "Rachel."