.
Stay in school cause it's the best
.

Brittany is coming up in about a week.

Brittany is coming up in about a week.

Santana is having trouble fully processing this.

It's late June, and Quinn has come back from Lima to help them pack up the apartment for their move. Or, well, mostly she's hanging out with Rachel, but when it comes time to pack, she'll help. And then Brittany will be there to help on moving day, with her parents and her own belongings. They're bringing a moving van, and so they will all be able to use it to move.

In the weeks since his breakup, Kurt has spent much of his time in his room. He'd finally told Rachel and Santana what had happened after several days of being home, and they were surprised, and hurt for him, and Santana felt scared, then, about Brittany. If Blaine wasn't coming…what about Brittany?

She'd reached out to Brittany for the first time in awhile, and they'd talked, and it felt good. Brittany reassured her that she was definitely coming to New York, and that she was in the process of applying to community college (after she'd gotten her GPA fixed a little) and wanted to study Communications. She assured Santana that she was willing and eager to be girlfriends again when she got there, and with Santana around to satisfy her, she wouldn't be interested in anyone else.

It had been nice, and Santana at least felt good about the fact that they could communicate. Which Kurt and Blaine apparently couldn't…

According to Kurt, he still loved Blaine, he just felt betrayed by the fact that Blaine hadn't been able to tell him he wasn't coming to New York, hadn't been able to even give him a clue that he was considering other places. All because he hadn't wanted to hurt him. Kurt acknowledged that he could see why Blaine had withheld the information, but was too angry to continue dating him, despite his feelings. It seems so frustrating to Santana that so many people who are still in love could break up over practical things.

They'd discussed finances, too, and though it wasn't going to be quite as inexpensive as they'd all hoped, they'd be able to afford this apartment. It would be about the same as what they were paying now. Santana wants to be mad at Blaine for messing up their finances, but the way Kurt described the breakup, she can kind of forgive him. She can understand not wanting to tell someone something for fear of hurting them. It's how her and Brittany's relationship is going to have to operate for awhile, with both of them deliberately not talking about the sex they had while on break. The difference being, she supposes, that they both know a secret exists, that they both know there will be a time when it can come out, and that withholding it won't hurt in the long run, it will help.

Still, it's weird. Brittany's coming up to go to school, and she still isn't there, despite everyone telling her she should. Right now, her only passion in life is Brittany, really, and she knows she needs to find something else. One person can't fulfill her all her life; she knows this even better, now, because of how fulfilling she's actually found sleeping with Angela to be. In a different way, of course, but…the experience definitely enriched her life.

So one afternoon, when Rachel and Kurt are both at work, she sits down heavily next to Quinn on the couch. Quinn appears to ignore her, stays focused on her book, until Santana sips her coffee, stretches, and announces, "I want to apply to school."

Quinn blinks, lowers her book, and drops it beside her, her attention fully on Santana. "Oh?" she asks mildly.

Santana nods, jaw firm. "Sure. I mean, I should prepare for the future, right? And that money from my mom shouldn't go to waste." Santana is proud of the fact that she even still has the money; she's been living with her eyes on her bank account, paycheck to paycheck, but she's kept that money stashed aside in her other account. Waiting.

"I agree," Quinn nods.

Santana stands and goes to the bedroom, coming back carrying the manila folder that Quinn gave her so many months ago. Quinn is smiling subtly now, watching as Santana flips it open and rummages through it randomly, "So what's in here, anyway?" she asks.

"Admissions information. Pamphlets. Basics about nearby colleges. What are you thinking about studying?" she asks.

Santana shrugs, "I don't really know yet. Just. Something…powerful."

"Well, if you're still thinking about performing, there are a lot of schools and programs with that kind of focus in the area," Quinn suggests.

Santana twists her mouth. "I don't know. School is hard for Rachel, and she's a fucking star. She was born to perform. I just like it."

Quinn is thoughtful. "I know what you mean. I was just talking to Kurt about this. He's reapplying to NYADA, but he's also going to apply at FIT. He thinks he'll be happy either way." She pauses, looking a little uncomfortable now. "And as much as I love the idea of studying Theater and maybe eventually the graduate Drama program, I just don't even know if it's worth trying. I've always felt I'm mediocre at best."

Santana stares at her incredulously. "Seriously? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." At Quinn's scowl, she clarifies quickly, "You spent all the time I've known you acting. Your entire self in high school was a performance, and you were such a fucking method actor that you got pregnant." Quinn snorts, a note of levity in her otherwise fierce expression, "The only time I feel like you weren't performing was when you were onstage, you twisted sister. That was like watching a different girl entirely, one who was actually happy and sure and comfortable. Don't tell me you and the stage aren't soulmates, you freaking Bette Davis clone."

"Bette Davis?" Quinn returns, sounding skeptical. "I look nothing like her."

"Whatever, would you prefer Carol Channing?"

"Wow. Maybe you need glasses."

"You white girls all look alike."

Quinn laughs now. "Well. Point taken. Thanks, I think."

"Yeah," Santana returns, shrugging. Then, "What do you think about law?"

Eyebrows rising at the subject change, Quinn says, "Oh, I've thought about it. Especially when watching what my mom was going through with the divorce and stuff. But I think I don't quite have the temperament for law."

"Not for you, freaking narcissist. For me."

"Oh." Quinn digests this for a moment. "I could see it. The way you've had to deal with stuff at work, I could see why law would attract you."

Santana nods, "Yeah," she agrees emphatically.

"That's pretty awesome, really. You could go through law school, and then go back and work against the company that mistreated you. Maybe you could look into labor law."

Santana snorts, "Oh, I wouldn't go to law school to fight for the little guy. I'd go just to ensure that I'm never the little guy ever again. Money, power. Not goodwill."

Quinn looks taken aback. "Oh. Well. I see," she sounds almost disappointed. "Well, you'd probably want to study English."

"English?" Santana asks incredulously.

"Yeah. When I was looking into law myself, I found out it's the most looked-for degree for most law schools. I mean, I haven't ruled out law, but it isn't why I'm getting an English degree."

"English," Santana repeats, this time scornfully.

"If I recall, you were pretty good at English," Quinn muses. Santana just looks at her darkly. "I remember the year you 'accidentally' took Honors English." Santana scowls now. She had been recommended for the class, and had gone for it, but the next year, went back down to the class Brittany was in. She hadn't liked the way Puck and the others had made fun of her for being in the class; she never had Quinn's skill at making people forget about Honor Roll. "I mean, you had a unique perspective," Quinn continues, "You thought Winston in 1984 was a big pansy, which was an interesting way to look at the futility of that novel. And you were the one who pointed out to us all that Lord of the Flies was just a metaphor for regular high school, and was just pretending to be Survivor instead."

"Whatever. That year was easy. That was the year we all just wrote dark poetry and the teacher just ate it up."

"She had a particular liking for you," Quinn accuses, or at least it feels like an accusation to Santana.

"English sounds boring, but whatever. If it helps me on my path to never working at my shitty job again…" she concedes.

"Look into it," Quinn recommends. "Figure out where you might want to go and I can help you apply, but, I mean, it's going to be mostly up to you. And some schools want application essays, and I'll tell you right now that they're stupid. Like, 'If you could have dinner with three people, dead or alive, who would they be?' kind of stupid."

"That's easy. Sun Tzu, Sappho and Selena," Santana says instantly.

Quinn blinks at her. "O…kay. Well. Just say why and you've got yourself an application essay."

"Well. Thanks," Santana says begrudgingly, "I'll look into it."

She heads back to her room to put the folder away and Quinn asks, "What changed?"

Santana shrugs. She doesn't really know how she's going to answer, but this is what comes out of her mouth: "I figured if Brittany wasn't afraid, why should I be?"

Quinn looks proud, until Santana tells her that this isn't a Full House episode and they aren't having a moment. Then Quinn just looks exasperated, and picks her book back up.

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It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song
.

When Brittany does come up, it's a whirlwind. They'll be moving in less than a week, and they're packing things. There's a stack of boxes, of books and movies and clothes, stacked up by the front door of the apartment when Brittany arrives.

Santana drags Brittany suitcase to her and Rachel's room, which is a mess, but she finds a place to stash it. They sit next to each other on the bed, and stare at one another. The door is closed, Kurt is working, and Rachel and Quinn are out somewhere. They have privacy, for now.

"So," Santana begins awkwardly.

"So, yeah. Here I am," Brittany responds.

"Yeah." She's happy, definitely. But at the moment, it's just…hard to make that transition, from exes, back to girlfriends again. "How do we do this?"

"I don't really know," Brittany answers, "I mean, it seems easy to me. I'm here, so we're us again."

"Yeah, I guess so," Santana says, "I guess I just…it's hard. I've barely talked to you in months, and of course I still love you, but I feel like I have to get to know you again? Like, I didn't know you were interested in studying Communications. Plus like there's this thing hanging over my head where I know we both got laid and I want to tell you, because we work well with honestly, but I know we can't talk about it yet, it's too soon…"

Brittany's hand inches closer, and her pinky hooks out to wrap around Santana's. Santana smiles. It feels so familiar, yet she aches. It's nostalgic, but, she tells herself, she can't be nostalgic about something that's not gone.

"I get it," Brittany says. "But like, as for college, what did you think the Muckraker was about for me? I like journalism. I feel like they are a very important part of society. And I feel like there's a lot out there that should get reported on, but doesn't."

"I can agree with that," Santana replies, but it feels like talking to someone she doesn't know. Maybe she and Brittany need to talk more.

"We can take it slow," Brittany offers.

Santana laughs, "If you'd asked me back when we went on break whether I would ever agree to that, I'd punch you. I mean. I spent most of my time not being able to wait until I could fuck you silly, really rock your socks off…"

"I missed you, too. But I understand if you need it to be slow."

"…maybe I do," Santana says softly, feeling silly.

"Okay," Brittany shrugs.

Santana moves her hand, and it's gripping Brittany's. They hold hands for a long moment, just sitting. Brittany smells so familiar, it almost brings tears to her eyes. Like flowers and something fresh and sharp, like pine. It settles in her chest again, that nostalgic feeling, of something she never really lost.

Before long, they're reclining back on Santana's bed, just talking, shoulder to shoulder. She asks about Brittany's plans for the future, she asks about high school, about Brittany's part in the musical, about her friendship with Artie, her friendship with Blaine, about mentoring Merry. She talks about work, she talks about Helen, who she's slowly rebuilding a friendship with, about how Helen had admitted that she's struggled dealing with her mother's borderline personality disorder throughout her childhood, she talks about Rachel and Quinn, she talks about applying to schools to get in for the spring semester, she talks about aching for Kurt as she sees him plunge himself into work and into packing for the move, just to get his mind off of Blaine. They talk about music; about Lorde, about Janelle Monae, about Kimbra, about She & Him, about Dragonette. They talk about the future, and specific parts of the past.

It occurs to Santana that she's always had a particular view of Brittany, as sort of slow and fragile, that isn't exactly true. As she sits and talks to her now, it feels like she's falling in love with someone completely different.

She thinks fleetingly of Angela, of the freedom they shared, and she wonders, doubts, now, if this thing with Brittany is going to feel the same as before.

.
I feel like a golden star exploding
.

They're moving in only days.

Kurt has been hyper-focused on packing whenever he is home, to the point that there's almost nothing left to pack that they won't need to pack as they leave; things they'll be using up until they go. Everyone has the next few days off for the move, but it seems that there really isn't anything to do, nothing to prepare for. Kurt paces. Santana sits on the couch and grumbles, sipping coffee. Quinn, Rachel and Brittany sit around awkwardly.

When Kurt's phone rings and it's a coworker asking him to cover a work shift, he seems relieved, and immediately changes into his restaurant work uniform and heads out. For her part, Brittany seems to reach her limit with Santana's grumbling and demands that they go outside.

"What? Why?" Santana squawks irritably.

"Because you're grumpy because you haven't slept, because you're trying to get on a daytime schedule for the move, and I heard that to combat jet lag, you are supposed to walk around in the grass of the new place in your bare feet. And this is sort of like jet lag. So let's go to Central Park and you can walk around."

"I do not want to go all the way to Manhattan just to walk," Santana gripes, but Brittany's stern look makes her roll her eyes and go get dressed.

"Want to come?" Brittany asks Rachel and Quinn.

"No thanks," Rachel answers, quietly relieved to be apart from a grumpy Santana for awhile. She loves Santana like a sister, but that's just it: like siblings, she's not immune to being annoyed with her bad behavior.

When Santana and Brittany leave, Rachel sighs and slumps back onto the sofa. "Oy vey. I had no idea moving was going to be this stressful."

"They say it's one of the most stressful life events that someone can experience, after losing a loved one or losing a job," Quinn muses.

Rachel tilts her head thoughtfully, "Huh. I mean, I feel pretty good about the move itself. But I was pretty out of the loop with the apartment hunting process. That was mostly Kurt and Santana."

"I'm actually surprised you left it to them," Quinn says half-playfully, but it's a serious remark.

"Kurt wanted to. They both did. They were the ones who needed a bigger apartment, what with Brittany and Blaine supposed to be coming. Since my girlfriend is long distance…"

Quinn puts an arm around her shoulder and moves closer to her, "Not that far," she soothes.

"I know," Rachel sighs, "And considering what a lot of our friends have been through with long distance relationships, it's really nothing, but…it's really no fun to only have some weekends to see you. It was torture when you were in Lima and I was here."

Quinn smiles sadly, "It was for me, too. I lived for those phone calls."

"I'm scared sometimes," Rachel confesses, "Because of what happened to Kurt and Blaine and, I hear, to Tina and Mike. And even Santana and Brittany for a little while. I don't think I could ever take a break from you."

"Me neither," Quinn agrees, "That just seems…risky."

"I understand why they did it. I mean, I remember when Santana opened up her relationship, I guess it made sense to me. It worked for them."

"Rachel," Quinn says guardedly, "If you're trying to suggest opening our relationship, I'm going to have to object."

"No!" Rachel blushes, hard. "I'm not trying to suggest that at all. I'm just…I'm just kind of marveling that Sam and Mercedes made it, but not Tina and Mike."

"Good," Quinn says, "Because I've cheated enough in my life, and I never want to do it again. Even if it wouldn't technically be cheating."

"And I'm far too selfish to share you," Rachel confirms, "I want monogamy, Quinn. I'm glad that openness worked for Sam and Mercedes and for Santana and Brittany, but…it's not for me."

"It wasn't monogamy that broke up Tina and Mike or Kurt and Blaine," Quinn says, finally putting pieces together, "I mean, Tina and I kind of lost touch since I went to school, so I don't know anything about her and Mike, but Kurt and Blaine, it sounds like, broke up because they weren't communicating well."

"Yeah," Rachel says sadly, "Which is so tragic, because they're still in love. I lost touch with Tina a little, too, but from what I understand…she wanted to be single when she went to college."

Quinn remembers her own promise to herself, her promise not to drag anchors of her past with her to Yale. She wonders, with a bit of mixed pride and guilt, if Tina got the idea from her. The idea had been easy when she had framed it in terms of the boyfriends she had never really loved, had never been attracted to. With Rachel, she never wanted to cut contact. Not that she sees Rachel as an anchor. Rachel is a sail.

"I can respect that," Quinn says quietly, "The need for a fresh start."

Rachel moves closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and nuzzling her neck. "I'm glad you never felt like you needed to be away from me to start your future."

She chuckles, "Yeah, well. I never could tear myself away from you. I was too in…had too many feelings."

She blushes, and Rachel's only reaction is to squeeze her hard, once, and they sit, letting the words Quinn almost said drift around the room, like an echo in both their heads.

"So," Rachel finally says tentatively, and Quinn feels a jolt of terror in her stomach, "So we're going to be monogamous and keep communication open?" she asks.

Quinn's stomach settles. "Yes. That's what I want. Do you?"

"Yes."

Rachel raises her head and kisses Quinn. Quinn kisses back, and the passion that stress had laid dormant rises now. She holds Rachel to her, until Rachel squirms away, pulling back. "Sorry," she murmurs, "I became awkwardly positioned on the couch."

"Sorry," Quinn says.

Rachel gazes at her for a moment, then smirks slightly, "We could just go into the bedroom for a bit. We definitely have some time before Brittany and Santana will be back."

"That's…a great idea, actually," Quinn stands and helps Rachel up off the couch. It's been hard to think about being alone with Rachel; the place has been in such chaos. But it's a perfect opportunity, and she's thinking about getting Rachel naked.

Rachel guides them into the bedroom, which is a mess of boxes, bags, and dismantled furniture. Basically only her bed and Santana's is left unchanged, and Rachel pulls Quinn to her on the bed, hard enough that Quinn ends up straddling her. Rachel giggles in surprise and then kisses her.

Quinn pulls away after several long moments of kissing and murmurs between pecks, "How long do you think we have?"

"I don't know. At least an hour," Rachel responds breathily, stretching up to kiss Quinn's chin and jaw.

"Okay. Good," Quinn murmurs, kissing more. It's really been since New Haven that they've gotten to do anything like this. There was never enough privacy in the apartment for more than a few brief makeout sessions. Never enough time for untucking shirts from skirts to slide hands underneath, like Quinn is doing now, or unzipping dresses, like Rachel is doing.

Gradually, between kisses, with awkward pauses to rearrange on the bed and to remove clothes, Rachel's skirt and shirt are on the floor next to Quinn's dress. Rachel is on her back, head on her pillows, while Quinn is half-draped over her, one hand teasing her breast beneath her bra, her mouth pressing wet kisses all along her neck, jaw, throat, chest, cheeks, lips. Rachel is squirming lightly, making breathy sounds, running fingers and nails lightly down back. Until her fingers catch on Quinn's bra one too many times, and she simply unclasps it.

Quinn leans back, letting the bra fall off her shoulders and onto Rachel's chest, and Rachel's hands cup her breasts reverently. Quinn glances behind her, as if to reassure herself that the door is still closed, the apartment still empty. Rachel hides a grin by biting her lip. "We're alone," she reassures, and she shifts, sitting up to press her face to Quinn's chest, kissing her sternum, her mouth trailing to find a nipple.

Quinn takes advantage of Rachel's position to remove her bra, and once again, they're down to their panties together, but this time, it's different, because they've seen each other naked before, and as shy as Quinn still feels to be so exposed, she wants to see more of Rachel.

She presses Rachel back into the pillows, partly because she wants to kiss her again, but also so that she won't blush at the way Rachel is looking at her breasts. She no longer feels quite so much shame to be under Rachel's scrutiny, but the desire it stokes in her still makes her blush. And now Rachel's breasts are bare, and she can put her mouth on them, and kiss all over her chest, and her stomach, and her hips.

Rachel feels her breath catching now, as Quinn kisses her way down her body, so close to where she is so hot and so wet. Quinn looks up at her and asks, her voice barely a croak, "Can I take these off?"

Rachel takes a second to think about what this might mean, and whether it might lead to something she is truly ready for, and her body, her heart, her mind, her pussy, all echo a resounding yes. Whatever this leads, it's something she wants. "Yes, please," is her soft response, and Quinn's lip quirks a little as she begins to tug the panties down Rachel's legs. Rachel lifts her hips to help, and feels the cool air hit her where she is so wet and open and hot…

Quinn crouches there, holding Rachel panties and staring at her. She seems frozen, and her eyes are wide and uncertain. Rachel sits up a little, closing her legs some as she does so, and Quinn looks at her. She leans forward again, kissing Rachel, and settling next to her. "I want this," she tells Rachel.

"I do, too," Rachel tells her, "But it's also okay if it doesn't happen."

Quinn nods, her hand absent-mindedly trailing over Rachel's torso, tracing her collarbone, the swell of her breast, circling her belly-button, stroking her abs, tickling her hipbones. Rachel giggles and squirms, and Quinn cracks a smile. "Sorry," she whispers.

"It's okay. I like your touches," Rachel tells her earnestly, meeting her eyes.

Quinn maintains that eye contact, barely able to breath, as she moves her hand lower, stroking the short, dark hair between her legs. And then, with two fingers, she tentatively touches.

Just like in the shower, it's wet, and warm, and confusing. It all feels the same, like too many fleshy folds, too much for her to piece together. She probes, gradually discovering where the inner lips are, and sliding down to Rachel's opening. Still watching Rachel, she dips her fingers in slightly, watching the way it makes Rachel sigh, her eyelids fluttering, but she retreats, explores more, trying to find Rachel's clit with her slick fingers.

Just as she's starting to feel hopeless and embarrassed, Rachel's hand comes down to gently guide her hand, and abruptly she feels it, the elusive little nub. Rachel sighs like she's been waiting for this her whole life, and her eyes close. "Yes. Right there," she barely breathes.

Quinn circles gently, thinking about the way she likes to be touched, and watches to see if Rachel enjoys it, too. Rachel keeps closing her eyes, clearly enjoying the sensation, but also keeps opening them to look at Quinn. A part of Quinn wants to see what she's touching, wants to really imprint in her mind what she's doing so she can do it again, but Rachel's face is so beautiful, so blissful, that she can't make herself move.

After several minutes of touching, in which Quinn tries different strokes, different patterns, trying to find what Rachel likes, Rachel opens her eyes and asks, "Can you put your fingers inside?"

Quinn's breath catches, and she's nervous all over again. Can she find that part of Rachel again? She looks down her body, trying to see anything at all, but the angle is wrong. She wants to do this.

"You can look," Rachel tells her, "it's okay."

"Okay," Quinn murmurs, and she sits up, enough to see where her hand is. Rachel is pink and glistening and, while not exactly what Quinn would call beautiful, she looks incredible, and as she moves her fingers down and slowly begins to slide them inside, she thinks, Oh. That is hot. That is appealing, and she feels her body react to the sight and the sensations of her fingers sliding inside Rachel. Inside, engulfed in hot, wet flesh. Rachel lets out a little groan.

Quinn isn't sure what to do. As far as she knows, things that go inside vaginas just slam around, but that hardly seems right, when the smallest movements of her fingertips, the slow sliding of her fingers, produces such pleased sounds from Rachel. Still, she slides her fingers in and out a few times, feeling how wet they are, and watches Rachel's face. Before long, she tries to angle her hand so that her thumb is still touching Rachel's clit.

Rachel, awash in sensation, lets Quinn move her fingers while trying to circle her thumb for awhile, but before long, her own hand is trailing down her body. "Let me touch myself. You just touch me…inside." Quinn moves her hand, and slides her fingers in and out, curling her fingers subtly with each thrust. "Yes, like that," Rachel pants, "Keep fucking me, Quinn." It comes out stronger than she anticipates, and makes Quinn gasp a little. Rachel closes her eyes and touches herself, feeling Quinn touching her inside, building up a rhythm. She looks at Quinn, whose gaze is glued to her hand and Rachel's working up a rhythm together. Her mouth is parted slightly, and she's breathing harshly.

Quinn looks at Rachel, and then moves to lay down next to her again, kissing her face when she does. The angle is different, but she is still moving her fingers inside, less thrusts now, and more finger curls, and it feels even better.

"I'm going to come," Rachel gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. Quinn kisses her shoulder, moaning in her throat, and then Rachel's jaw is opening wide, and she hears the stuttered groans and gasps coming from her own mouth, while her hips roll erratically. Dimly, she hears Quinn utter God's name, and Rachel rides out her orgasm for as long and she can keep moving her hand.

When she slumps back against the bed, her hands are shaking, and Quinn is staring at her, her fingers still pushed deep inside her. She removes them, slowly, a grimace passing over her face as she tries to decide what to do with all the wetness on them. Ultimately, she wipes them quickly on the sheets and then stares at Rachel again, who is blinking her in and out of focus, grinning blissfully. "Thank you," Rachel murmurs.

"I uh, I," Quinn can't come up with a proper response, her upbringing failing her, and she just leans over to kiss Rachel instead. Rachel wraps her arms around her and just holds her.

When Rachel catches her breath, she loosens her hold on Quinn, who rises enough to kiss her again. Rachel sits up abruptly. "Can I do anything for you?" she asks.

"I….don't know," Quinn answers. Her body is aching to be touched, but it's hard to ask for that to happen. She doesn't know how to articulate what she wants.

"Lie down," Rachel instructs, shifting on the bed to give Quinn more room. "And just please, tell me if anything feels too soon, okay?" she requests earnestly.

Quinn nods, lying back against the pillows. She watches as Rachel settles at the foot of the bed, tries not to squirm as Rachel surveys her nearly nude body, and sighs as Rachel's hand stretches out to gently touch her, her hand following her gaze, all over Quinn.

Finally, Rachel's gaze settles between her legs, and she darts her eyes up to Quinn's face. "Can I take these off?"

Quinn nods, unable to trust her voice, and lifts her hips to help Rachel remove her panties. She tries to settle her legs and hips down casually, tries not to lock them together like she wants to do. Rachel's gaze is darting all over, looking at Quinn but trying not to stare, and looking at her face to gauge her comfort. Quinn smiles weakly.

"You're beautiful," Rachel sighs, her hand stroking Quinn's hips and thighs softly, her thumb trailing just above anything truly intimate. Quinn tries hard to believe her.

Quinn becomes abruptly aware of how wet she is, and parts her legs just a little more, unconsciously. Rachel focuses on the action. Quinn swallows, then deliberately parts them a little more, and Rachel's thumb strokes down more this time, touching one of Quinn's outer lips. Quinn shivers, and Rachel watches her face. "Can I touch you?" she asks.

"Yes," Quinn answers, her mouth dry, then she adds, "Please."

Rachel's thumb circles inward, stroking inner lips now, swiping up slowly toward Quinn's clit, brushing past it. She repeats a similar pattern a few more times, sliding over and through Quinn's folds, eyes darting from them to Quinn's face all the while. Quinn feels extremely exposed, extremely scrutinized, but undeniably turned on. She wishes she'd taken more time to look at Rachel like this, to get to know her body. There were still fears and insecurities in the back of her mind, about the female body, that she knows she needs to work to overcome. And she is. And they are.

Finally, Rachel's thumb moves with more purpose, to circle Quinn's clit almost directly. Quinn sighs, feeling her hips twitch in reaction, and Rachel watches her as she circles slowly. Quinn enjoys the sensations for what they are—pleasant, but they aren't going to get her off.

Still circling with her thumb, Rachel's other hand moves lower, barely touching Quinn's entrance. "May I touch you inside?" Rachel asks, tightness in her throat betraying her eagerness, her arousal.

"Yes," Quinn tells her after some hesitation. Exploring herself didn't produce much of a reaction from being touched there, but maybe Rachel can find something she couldn't.

Rachel slides inside, a tiny little "Oh, Quinn," escaping her throat as she does so. Quinn braces herself, like she expects discomfort, but Rachel's fingers find no resistance. Quinn's breath picks up at Rachel's little moan, and she feels so strangely sexy in the moment, just lying on her back, her legs spread, a woman's hand slowly working her.

Rachel's fingers are just still inside, her thumb circling, until Quinn whispers, "You can go faster."

Rachel's eyes are bright, eager, and her thumb circles faster, and the fingers inside start pumping, still slowly, but steadily.

This is more like it, Quinn thinks. Although as the touching continues, it almost feels like Rachel's fingers inside are distracting Quinn from the building sensation on her clit. She waits for awhile longer, waiting to see if it will change, until she finally requests tentatively, "Can your hand inside…stay still?"

"Of course. Sorry," Rachel murmurs, "I got eager."

"Don't apologize, just…keep touching me," Quinn says, closing her eyes and focusing on the pleasure. Unlike Rachel, who seemed to really like being penetrated, Quinn isn't sure it works for her. But maybe it's something they can explore more.

Several more minutes pass, with Rachel's fingers inside still, her thumb making firm, consistent circles over Quinn's clit, and she isn't there. She's starting to get frustrated, she's starting to feel ridiculous, and boring, and no amount of Rachel's eager eyes taking her in make her feel sexy anymore. "I'm sorry," she finally says, "I don't think I can."

"I can stop if you want me to," Rachel tells her, "That's perfectly okay. But I don't mind trying for a little longer. Maybe with you showing me how to touch."

Quinn groans a little in frustration. She is certainly very turned on, she certainly wants to come, but it's like there's a mental block, something in her brain that's afraid to let it happen. "Okay. Let me show you."

She moves her hand down to circle her clit, and Rachel watches eagerly, putting her hand in place. "Like this?" she asks.

"No, more like…" Quinn moves her hand over Rachel's, and it's weird, moving someone else's fingers with her own, and it takes awhile to feel right, but finally, she gets Rachel's fingers moving just how she likes it. "Like that. Just. Keep them still, I'll do it," she says, already feeling something building in her lower stomach.

"Yes," Rachel says softly, keeping both her hands still and watching Quinn hungrily. Quinn keeps her eyes close to focus on the sensations, feeling it build, feeling herself get closer, until…

"God, I'm so close," she whines.

"Take your time, I'm right here," Rachel whispers, remaining still, while Quinn manipulates her fingers over herself, until she's squeezing Rachel's fingers so hard and it pushes her over the edge harder than ever, and she's bucking, she's groaning, she's gasping for air, and when she comes down from her orgasm, she's not sure if she's laughing or crying.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks, removing her hands and climbing up to be next to Quinn.

"Yes," Quinn murmurs, and Rachel kisses her face several times, "Oh my God. Yes. I just can't believe…I'm in shock," she admits.

"Good shock, I hope," Rachel whispers.

"Yes." And then she's definitely crying, "I'm sorry," she babbles, "I'm sorry I took control and didn't let you get me off."

"Baby," Rachel whispers, "You made me a part of it. Even if it was your hand that got you there, that was us making love. It's really no different than what I did. We're new at this. We both have a lot to learn about getting off together."

"Yeah," Quinn wipes her eyes, feeling stupid, "I can't believe I'm crying after sex. I'm such a girl."

Rachel laughs, "That is definitely something I like about you." And it's true, she thinks. It's no longer something about Quinn that scares her or that she feels ambivalent about. She loves that Quinn is a girl, because she's Quinn.

She settles next to Quinn, holding her, and Quinn gains control of herself quickly, blinking back tears and settling down. "Sorry," she says again.

"Don't apologize," Rachel tells her, "Nothing is wrong. We made love and it was amazing, and…" she pauses. "Quinn. Can I say something?"

"I guess," Quinn shrugs.

"That…thing you almost said in the living room." Quinn stills, and Rachel pushes on, "I don't know if I'm ready to say it yet, either, but I want you to know that I feel it, too."

Quinn exhales and buries her face in Rachel's chest. "Me, too. So much more than ever before."

.
I just know that something good is going to happen
.

As stress relief goes, making love in the bedroom they are soon to leave, where so many parts of their relationship came together, is incredibly effective. They cuddle naked for several long minutes longer, and then get dressed and Febreze the bedroom and go back out to the living room only minutes before Santana and Brittany come back. Quinn feels like it has to be definitely noticeable, that something so life-changing has just occurred between them, but somehow Santana and Brittany don't seem to notice. Maybe because Santana is laughing now, at something Brittany says as she comes in, and maybe because Santana had been making fun of them for banging everywhere for so long that Quinn is sure neither of them even blush when Santana queries whether the couch is safe to sit on.

Rachel rolls her eyes and said, "Of course, Santana. Do you really think we'd have sex in a shared space?"

Santana shrugs, "I don't know. It wouldn't stop me."

"Yeah, but you're a pig," Rachel returns playfully, while Brittany and Quinn earnestly nod. Santana playfully slaps Rachel's shoulder in response, then flops down next to her and grabs the Wiimote to change Ally McBeal to something else.

The move isn't exactly fun, but it happens. Rachel, Quinn and Santana stay at the old apartment to load the moving van that Brittany's dad drives back and forth, and keep separate the things their subletters who have already signed the lease for mid-August are bringing in. Kurt, Brittany and Brittany's mom unload it on the other side, doing their best to organize things while they wait for the next load. Lord Tubbington is locked in the bathroom with his litter box and food, cowering and traumatized after the long drive from Lima. Brittany's parents take back a few items: Santana's twin bed, now upgraded to the double she shares with Brittany, a little beside table Kurt had specifically bought for Blaine that he doesn't want, Kurt's twin bed; even without Blaine, he's upgrading to a bigger bed, since it fits in his bedroom.

Brittany's parents stay long enough to buy and share several pizzas with the new tenants, and to open a bottle of champagne for them all to share (Brittany's mom had always been okay with giving Brittany a glass on special occasions). Once they leave to return the van and to get a hotel, Santana and Kurt almost immediately start fighting about how to arrange the living room, and, asked to mediate, Rachel gets drawn into the argument with her own perspective. Quinn stays out of it completely, retreating to a corner with her book, and it takes a compromise from Brittany for them to find a solution that works. They unpack and arrange until they're exhausted and it feels natural, even though beds are mostly set up, to make a blanket pile in the middle of the living room and sleep in a circle. When Kurt says softly, as they're all about to fall asleep, that he wishes Blaine were here, Rachel and Brittany smother him from either side until they're all asleep.

Soon, the apartment is set up, and they fall into a routine. They figure out who should shower when, Brittany goes out and successfully finds a part-time job at a burger restaurant. Santana gets back on her night schedule, and she and Brittany find time to enjoy their afternoons together.

Rachel goes to a meeting with Gretchen and her uncle, and he says he remembers her from Theo and the Science Labyrinth, loves her talent, and would be happy to work with her about discretion with her sexuality, if that's what she chooses. Then he tells her to contact him when she graduates and he'd love to represent her. Gretchen tells her she's definitely in, and that he's asking her to finish college first to make sure she can handle a long-term commitment like finishing school. She's also gone to a few auditions at the recommendation of Jesse that went pretty well, though hasn't landed anything yet, but she's putting herself out there. In addition, she gets a call from Neal, the friend of Gretchen and Jeremy's that she worked with on Theseus, right after she moves. He's going to be in his final year at NYADA, and he tells her that he's working on a new musical for next fall and he definitely wants her for the lead.

There's no "big break" yet, but Rachel knows it's coming.

Soon, it's time for Quinn to go back to Lima for most of the rest of the summer. Rachel is planning to spend a few weeks in Lima herself, but won't be going back until Quinn has been there for two weeks. It's weird, because they've gotten used to having a fifth person in the house, like they all planned, but she's a guest.

They spend their last night together in Rachel's now very-private bedroom. It's about as small as Kurt's old bedroom in the last apartment was, but it's fine. As used to sharing a room with Santana as she got, Rachel likes having her own space.

Besides, they've definitely found time to explore together. It feels like now that they've started, they've barely been able to stop. They're both definitely getting more used to each others' bodies, and sex itself.

"I'm going to miss you," Rachel says into Quinn's collarbone, her voice breaking, as they cuddle naked.

"Me, too," Quinn responds, "But I'll see you soon."

"Yeah. But then we'll be dodging parents any time we want to try to have sex," Rachel makes a face. "That's even worse than dodging roommates."

Quinn cracks a smile, "I'm sure we'll find a way."

"Yeah," Rachel says thoughtfully, "You're right. We always will," and by the certainty in her voice, Quinn knows she means more than finding a place for sex.

"I'll always try, if you will," she murmurs, kissing Rachel's forehead.

They fall asleep together, both confident and eager for the future that awaits them.

A/N: Chapter titles from Peaches, "Fuck Away the Pain," Regina Spektor, "Eet," My Brightest Diamond, "Golden Star," and Kate Bush, "Cloudbusting."

I want to thank everybody who has stuck with me through this fic. It was a labor of love. When Season 3 ended, I was struck with a very specific vision of the paths all these characters would embark on. Telling these stories has been very important to me. There's a little bit of me and everyone I know in these characters and their struggles to find their places in the world.

Their stories may not end here. I have a few spinoff fics in mind that I may write eventually. One Puck-centric, one Brittana-centric and one Faberry-centric. Look for those, potentially, on AO3 someday.

I specifically want to thank Pooh, Kben, JT and Poetz, whose encouragement at different times made all the difference in this fic getting finished. Thanks for believing in me.

(It is possible that I may do some edits to earlier chapters, mostly for clarity. However, these edits will only appear on AO3, because the format allows for much more ease with small edits such as this)