#actofcharity

And now you know your second date with Josh definitely has to be better than the first!

And I got your text about Coney Island! Are you okay?

You laughed at me the during the entire construction process.

But, really reading.

Rachel’s been impatiently checking and re-checking her Skype contacts list, waiting for Quinn to sign on. It’s not just that she’s anxious to talk to her girlfriend, but it’s also Thursday, which means it’s another night for Quinn at the Corcoran house and Rachel wants to hear all about it. She keeps trying to distract herself by getting ahead on some of her class reading, but she can’t focus. Fortunately, Quinn’s sign-on sound plays through Rachel’s speakers and she’s quick to hit the connect button. Quinn’s barely seated in the chair at her desk when Rachel’s face comes up on her screen. She runs a hand through her hair-- which is in desperate need of a trim-- and sinks back. Rachel. Chicago. Beth. All things considered, this has been the best week Quinn has had since she found out she was accepted to Yale, and she can’t keep the smile at bay. “Hey, Rach,” she says. “Hi. I know we just did this on Tuesday, but I’m glad to see you.” Rachel can’t stop smiling. She hasn’t been able to since Monday night, save for a brief interlude during a scene study where she read a Lady Macbeth monologue, and even then, she had to really focus to keep from seeming too happy. “How was dinner?” “I’m happy to see you too,” Quinn murmurs. She’s still dressed up from her dinner at Shelby’s-- a dress this time, and one of the cardigans she used to wear. She’s relaxed a lot in the past few months, but there’s something about Shelby’s expectations and the impression that Quinn needs to make on her that somehow lands her in her old style. She bends and tugs the sash around her ankle free, slipping her foot out of the wedge and letting it thump to the floor. “Dinner was fantastic. We colored tonight. Well, I colored and Beth took all of the crayons out of the box and tried to put them back in.” Quinn quirks an eyebrow as she pulls the other shoe free. “No Charity tonight?” “That sounds like some quality bonding time,” Rachel says. “And it’s a good sign that she’s already showing indication of a need for organization. I think I like her.” She pulls her hair back into a loose ponytail, because it’s one of those nights where it’s too warm in the room and the thermostat is lodged behind Charity’s desk. It takes the both of them to tilt the desk forward enough for the other to reach back and change the setting. “Charity’s out until late. She said she’s studying with Skylar. Or... Luke? I admittedly wasn’t paying close attention.” “You think you like my daughter?” Quinn is trying to sound as dry as possible, but it’s obvious that she’s really just watching Rachel smooth her hair back. It’s kind of mesmerizing. Rachel is wearing her necklace-- Quinn’s necklace-- and now Quinn is aware of the chain around her own neck. “How are your classes?” “Oh my god, Quinn, they’re so amazing. I’m learning so much and it’s only been a few days. It can already be high competitive in the performance based classes, but I’m letting that push me. I don’t know if you know how shaken up Kurt and I were the first time we ever saw our competition for this school, but now it just feels like we’re all pushing each other, you know?” Rachel leans against the back of her desk chair. “It’s intense,” she admits, “but I really think it will make me a stronger performer.” Quinn can only smile. She wants to say so much. How Rachel lights up and looks beautiful when she’s animated like this. How Quinn always knew that she would succeed at this. How she already is a strong performer. She can’t say any of it because it all feels like it would sound terribly contrived, even though she would mean it with complete sincerity. Instead, she leans on her hand and looks into her webcam. “Remember at the beginning of the summer, when you were so nervous to leave Lima and what your roommate would be like? You’ve really come a long way in a few months, Rach.” Rachel sounds so completely happy and in her element that all Quinn wants to do is hear her talk more about it. “We both have,” Rachel says, smiling softly at the image of Quinn on her screen. “Do you think you’ll ever get the urge to perform, again? At all? You’re so good at it, you’d easily get cast in anything put on in the community theater circuit. And then I could come see you in... ‘Our Town’ or ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ or whatever they’re putting up this season. I haven’t checked.” “Oh my god, I would love to do Little Shop of Horrors!” Quinn says, laughing. “The style in that musical is unreal. I might look into it, actually. Let me deal with Chicago first and see how that goes.” She takes her cardigan off and drapes it on the back of the chair and then smirks. “I’ll be right back,” she says and then steps out of frame to change into a t-shirt and shorts. The memory of a very drunk Rachel Berry stripping down in front of her to change has not been forgotten, and Quinn doesn’t think it’s entirely necessary for a companion performance, even if they are official now. It’s only been two days, and it’s been almost two weeks since they were together together. As Quinn changes, Rachel thinks about how long it’s been since she’s actually seen Quinn in any kind of performance. Their goodbye number to Mr. Shue and the younger members of New Directions was in June. “When do you have to leave tomorrow?” she asks, knowing Quinn can still hear her. “Saturday, actually,” Quinn says, pulling up a pair of shorts with McKinley in white lettering across the back. “Around 8. And coming back Sunday night. Tomorrow night, I’m actually... Sam and I have plans.” She tugs a t-shirt over her head and drops into the chair again. Once she’s in frame, she smiles and says, “Hi.” Rachel is often captivated with how easily Quinn pulls off looking gorgeous in anything. Even WMHS physical education apparel. “Hey, beautiful,” she says, wishing there weren’t two flat screens and six hundred miles between them. “I’m glad you’re spending time with him. I actually feel a lot better knowing you’re going out and doing things. And that also reminds me that I need to reply to Noah’s Facebook message. If I can decipher it...” “Yeah, good luck with that. What about you? Any more parties on the horizon? Should I be expecting a drunk booty call sometime while I’m in Chicago?” “I told you, I’ve given that up,” Rachel insists. “The drinking, not the booty calls. In fact... I was wondering if...” She chews on her lip as she contemplates what she’s about to say. It’s still just an idea and she hasn’t formulated an actual presentation about it, yet. The hesitancy in Rachel’s voice, the fact that she’s chewing on her lip, the words she doesn’t say... Suddenly Quinn is desperate to hear it all. Her voice hits that low register when she says, “What? You were wondering what, Rachel?” She needs to hear it. “As much as I enjoy certain textual exchanges we tend to have, I was considering that the face to face interaction we have via the internet might provide a more... intimate experience. If we wanted to... um...” she has to stop or else the next words out of her mouth are going to be something about ‘self-stimulation’ and she realizes that isn’t sexy, at all. Quinn leans forward and lowers her voice, even though she’s the only one home tonight. “Are you asking me if I want to watch my girlfriend touch herself over Skype, Rachel?” Rachel’s breath catches in her throat and she shifts in her chair. “Would you? Want to?” How is it that the Rachel Berry who wears leg warmers with stars all over them has this much sex appeal? It’s unreal to Quinn. She bites her lip and nods slowly. “Would you also want to... you know... too?” Rachel knows what she wants to say, but Quinn has this way of making her feel... almost shy... in situations like this. She’s sure it has something to do with approval or control or something along similar lines. She just knows she definitely wants Quinn to be comfortable with this. Whatever it is they’re about to end up doing, that is. “Yeah,” Quinn breathes. She can almost feel the electricity between them, even when they’re this far away from each other. Rachel has always been an open book, and it’s one of the things Quinn appreciates the most about her-- you can tell exactly what she’s thinking most of the time, and right now, she’s clearly aroused. “Your text at that party... you have no idea how much I wanted you to keep going. It almost killed me to stop you.” “You don’t have to stop me, right now.” Rachel takes a good look at Quinn. She misses her, even though they’re talking to each other. She misses the smell of her shampoo, the feeling of Quinn’s arms around her, the way Quinn kisses the side of her head when they’re watching a movie... she misses everything and this virtual connection they have is a poor substitute for the real thing. But it’s better than nothing at all. “What would you have said?” Quinn is already running her fingers along the hem of her t-shirt, toying with the fabric. “You said that you wanted to talk about...” Quinn swallows, “...how much you wanted to touch me. And I would have texted back, ‘Tell me.’ I love hearing you talk, Rach. I have no idea how you manage to be so sexy.” She dips her fingers under her shirt and traces lightly over her own stomach. “What would you have said?” “I...” Rachel can’t really see where Quinn’s hand is, but she can tell it’s moving. “... believe I would have said something about the way you move when I touch you. And, um, how I really like that.” This is proving to be a difficult exercise, already, because it’s taking everything she has to concentrate on what she wants to say. She uncrosses her legs, then recrosses them. It’s as if she has no idea what to do with herself. It’s already warm in the room and despite her shorts and tank top, she’s sure there’s a light sheen already apparent on her skin, just from the temperature of the air, let alone the way Quinn’s words are heating her up. “Rachel,” Quinn says in a clear, even voice. “If I were there right now, I would want you in my lap, so that I could be kissing your neck. And you know where my hands would be.” Even though she’s really more of a top, Quinn loves the way it feels to have Rachel straddling her. She concentrates on breathing through her nose and continues to rub the skin just beneath her shirt. Rachel is still shifting in her seat, and even through the computer, Quinn can see her chest moving deeply with breath. “You’re not... nervous, are you?” Rachel breathes out a laugh and shakes her head. “Not nervous, just a little anxious,” she admits before letting her fingers trail over the front of her tank top. “You turn me on when you’re not even here-- or, well, you know what I mean. So, this is... already more intimate than I expected.” She allows herself to picture the scenario Quinn’s just laid out, with her legs on either side of Quinn’s. She usually ends up with her fingers laced in Quinn’s hair, while Quinn’s hands cup her breasts. Rachel’s own hand creeps upward and she realizes this is actually happening, they’re actually about to... “Tell me more.” "You realize that this is the first time since..." Quinn trails her fingers down the front of her neck. "I miss you," is the only thing in her brain right now. Well, that and what Rachel's hand is doing. Quinn's eyes are locked on it. "Keep going," she says. "I want to see you..." She's comfortable with Rachel-- maybe more comfortable than she's ever been with anyone, and it still feels like these things should be whispered. Not out of shame; out of reverence. “I miss you, too,” Rachel whispers back. She follows Quinn’s instructions and her eyes drift shut as her palm grazes over her own breast. There’s a light moan, then she forces her eyes back open, because this isn’t going to work if she can’t see anything. Rachel is so vocal. It's torture, being able to see her, to hear her moan, and not to be able to touch. Quinn bites her lip. Her voice still hushed, she edges closer in the dark. "Harder, Rachel. Please." God, she's already wet and they've barely even started. Rachel’s keenly aware of the sound of her own breathing, which is laced with a whimper when she does what Quinn asks. Again, her eyes want to instinctively close, but she maintains her focus on Quinn’s image. “What about you?” Quinn drops her eyes. "What do you want? Tell me." “I want...” Rachel has no idea how to clearly communicate what she wants, because she’s used to having the ability to touch and guide Quinn wherever she’s needed. This requires more concentration and that’s already a resource that’s running low. But, if anything, this is an exercise in both communication and creativity and she prides herself on both. “You should take that off,” she nods to her screen, then realizes she should clarify. “Your shirt. If I can’t touch you, I should at least be able to see a little of you.” Her own tank top is already coming up over her head, which offers slight relief in the overly warm dorm room. Quinn doesn't comply, at least not at first. She's slow, teasing Rachel. Inching her shirt up a little at a time. She pushes until it stops just below her breasts so that her stomach is exposed, and then pushes her hand underneath and squeezes, allowing her head to fall back and a breathy "Rachel" to fall from her lips. It takes another minute for her to drag the t-shirt over her head, tussling her hair and leaving herself breathless, leaving her in her sports bra. Rachel’s fingers travel along the top edge of her purple and while striped bra as she watches Quinn. “Baby, you’re so sexy,” she says. “I really wish I could kiss you, right now. Especially that spot on your neck that makes you grab my ass.” She’s into this, she’s found a rhythm. She’s also incredibly aroused. Quinn can’t help the groan that rumbles in her throat. “God, Rach.” She isn’t sure whether it’s Rachel calling her ‘baby’ or saying the word ‘ass’-- maybe a combination of both-- but she likes it. “Pull your hair down,” she orders gently. Her eyes are still riveted to the hand at Rachel’s chest, ghosting over skin she wishes could feel. “Is that a new bra?” Rachel tugs the rubber band out of her hair and lets it fall back onto her shoulders. She glances down to look at her bra. “Yeah, I got it over the weekend. Kurt and I did some essentials shopping. Do you like it?” Quinn stops what she’s doing and raises an eyebrow. “Kurt Hummel is picking out your underwear now?” “No, I picked this out myself. He wanted to get a proper lounging jacket.” Rachel leans in a little closer to her camera and whispers. “Why are we talking about Kurt?” “You’re the one who brought him up,” Quinn grumbles. “I wanted to talk about your bra. And how you look in it.” She lets herself appreciate Rachel’s chest. “I do like it. Very much.” Rachel smiles, pleased with Quinn’s assessment. Her fingertips disappear under the fabric of the bra, and she does her best to keep her eyes on Quinn’s as she circles the peaked flesh she finds there. “You look amazing,” Quinn tells her. “Everything about you, Rachel. Amazing.” Antsy fingers fiddle with the strap of her own sports bra. It’s not special or new. She didn’t exactly anticipate this particular development between them tonight. It doesn’t make her feel sexy, per se, but it does make her feel fit. And, for Quinn, it has about the same effect. Her eyes still focused on Rachel’s fingers, she says, “That’s so fucking sexy, Rach. Do the other one, too.” “Like this?” Rachel asks as she does what she’s told. “I wish you were the one touching me.” She sucks in a sharp breath as she tugs a little at her own nipple. “Actually, I really wish you had your mouth on me.” The thought alone makes her groan in response. Quinn subconsciously squeezes her thighs together. She makes a decision and tugs her bra up and over her head. “Hang on,” she says and moves her laptop to the bed before peeling back her quilt. She slides between the cool sheets and twists so she’s on her side. “Better,” she murmurs, and adjusts the screen slightly. It isn’t long before her fingers are stroking in a lazy circle around one breast. “Is this... okay for you?” “Uh huh,” Rachel mutters, then realizes her mouth is hanging open. She’s still sitting at her desk, but Quinn definitely seems to have the right idea. “Do you want me to move to my bed or stay here?” It’s like she can’t make up her mind about anything other than the fact that she doesn’t want to stop watching Quinn. “However you’re comfortable, Rach,” Quinn says. “This is our first time... doing this, and I need to make sure that we’re both completely comfortable with it.” God, she can’t even touch Rachel’s hair right now. A lot of things are killing her slowly, but that one thing in particular is almost unbearable. She watches Rachel pinching her own nipples, still beneath the bra, and she has to close her eyes for just a second. “I’m so... you’re making me so wet that I needed to not be sitting in that chair,” she admits. “Oh my god, Quinn.” The knowledge of that fact has Rachel squirming in the chair, again. “I think I should move. Even though the lighting is more flattering over here...” she trails off as she picks up her laptop and moves to her twin bed. She isn’t sure exactly where to put the computer, but she ultimately ends up in a similar position to the one Quinn’s broadcasting. “I wanted to ask you about something. Though, we can’t actually try it now. But... maybe the next time we actually see each other?” “You know that you look gorgeous in any light.” The thing is, she’s not just saying it. It’s completely true. Quinn’s fingers move just so and she gasps. Her eyelids are so heavy. “Ask me what?” “If we could...” if Rachel were speaking to anyone else about this topic in an academic setting, there would be no hesitation. She’s nearly always been able to express what’s on her mind. But this is Quinn, her girlfriend. And she wants to approach this subject delicately, as it’s something new to their physical relationship. “I would really like to, for lack of a better term, go down on you.” Several things happen at once: the hand that’s massaging Quinn’s breast locks down, and she rolls so that her face is buried in her pillow. Her groan rips through her, raw and loud, even though it’s muffled deep in her bedding. Her other hand slides all the way down her body, past a taught stomach, lower, lower, until her fingers brush against another spot that makes her gasp. She doesn’t want to rush this, she wants to take her time, make it last, but Rachel’s words shoot straight through her and nearly drive her crazy with the need to feel some pressure there. “Rachel,” she says, and she feels broken. Shattered. Like there’s a million pieces of her, each crying out to be touched. She rolls back toward her laptop, her hair in her eyes. “I want you to. God, you have no idea.” Quinn’s reaction leaves Rachel with wide eyes and, again, with her mouth hanging open. But she wants to see Quinn react more. “I may have actually given it a lot of serious thought recently. And I ended up,” her hand pushes downward, past her bellybutton and under the waistband of her shorts, “in a very similar situation to what’s happening, right now.” “Oh my god,” Quinn pinches with one hand and cups a little more forcefully with the other. “You’ve been thinking about...” There’s an image in her head of Rachel with her eyes screwed shut tight, breathing hard. Imagining what it would be like to have her head between-- “Oh, fuck,” Quinn says and grasps at her sheets with one hand as her hips buck up into the other. What Rachel’s both seeing and hearing drives her to work her fingers against herself in search of some release. She’s careful, though almost as an afterthought, to pace herself so she can do this with Quinn. “But baby, you should know... in that case, I was thinking about you... doing it to me.” Quinn’s eyes roll back, and suddenly she’s pulling at her shorts, working her hand down the front. “You want me to...” There’s a flash in her memory, the tent in Rachel’s backyard, Quinn’s face pressed to Rachel’s stomach. Quinn could smell her firsthand, how aroused Rachel was. And afterwards, when they lay in the dark curled together and Quinn had brought her fingers up to her face... She could smell exactly what she’d done to Rachel and it had made her shiver, even though the tent was sweltering. The idea of actually getting close enough again to-- “You want me to... taste you. God, Rachel.” It’s enough to make her rub her fingers with just a little more purpose. “Has anyone ever...?” “No, I...” This would be an incredibly awkward time to bring up the fact that her sexual relationship with Finn didn’t involve anything beyond the main event. So, she just repeats, “No. You’ll be the first.” At this point, Rachel’s relying much more heavily on the sound of Quinn, rather than the sight of her. It actually works out well, because she’s used to listening for cues, rather than watching, anyway. The sound Quinn makes in response is like liquid electricity shooting through her. “You have no idea what you do to me,” she whimpers, trying with little success to keep her hips from rocking up off the bed. “And just imagine... if this is how I get just thinking about you...” It’s likely the fact that it’s been over a week since they’ve been together in any capacity, virtual or otherwise, but Rachel can tell she’s already getting close. “Quinn... baby...” Quinn knows that whine in Rachel’s voice. She knows exactly what’s going on with Rachel’s body because it wasn’t so long ago that Rachel was keening up into her from a hotel mattress and whining the same way in her ear before she gripped Quinn’s shoulders and shuddered violently against Quinn’s body. She wants to watch Rachel come undone, but it’s getting harder to keep her eyes on the laptop. She moves her hips faster, circles her fingers harder, fights to keep her eyes open. “It’s so sexy that you get this worked up over just thinking about us together like that,” Quinn pants. She knows that Rachel is close and she’s trying her hardest to catch up. If she concentrates really hard, she can remember everything, and for a second it’s almost like they’re really together. If they were, she knows exactly how she’d be touching Rachel, and she needs that to happen. Now. “Two fingers, Rach. Inside. Can you do that for me?” Her own gasp gives it away that Rachel isn’t the only one deepening their connection. Her hips jerk and she groans, “God, you feel so good. I’m close.” Rachel nods and manages to breathe out a, “yeah,” before doing exactly as Quinn’s requested. She’s trying to desperately to hold on, listening as best as she can to Quinn, and looking at the screen of the laptop whenever she can manage to force her eyes open. But she’s already on the brink and the intensified contact in tandem with Quinn’s words have her heels digging into the bed and her hips forcing themselves up against her hand. “Fuck,” is the word that finds its way out of her mouth, though she’ll probably deny it after the fact. Hearing such a filthy word come out of Rachel’s mouth has the most amazing effect on Quinn. She arches up, her back bowing off the bed, and grinds her hips down hard. The noise she makes is somewhere between a grunt and a squeak, and she wants to say Rachel’s name, but she’s too preoccupied with trying to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing. There’s no need for words anymore anyway. The sounds coming through the connection are enough to start the coil unfurling deep inside of her-- Rachel Berry working herself into an orgasm is about the sexiest thing Quinn has ever heard in her life. They’re just egging each other on at this point, and it isn’t long before Quinn feels herself slipping loose. “Rach-- Rachel, I can’t--” She isn’t able to get anything else out before her whole body tenses up and she’s crying out softly. “Quinn-- I--” Rachel’s eyes are tightly shut and she’s temporarily lost any voluntary control of her body. She feels disembodied, actually, like she’s somewhere above herself, looking down. Her heart’s racing and her lungs keep frantically filling and emptying themselves with air, but the longer she lies there, they begin to slow and even out. “That was...” Quinn searches for the right word, but there really doesn’t seem to be one. “You’re really good at this.” She lets herself come down and snuggles into her pillow. “I wish I could hold you right now. It’s killing me that I can’t.” Rachel blinks her eyes open and turns her head so she’s looking at Quinn, again. “Me, too. We all know how I feel about your arms,” she says. “Though, maybe it’s better this way, because it’s absolutely sweltering in here.” “It was freezing in there the last time I talked to you. And the time before.” Quinn narrows her eyes. “You stole my hoodie.” “I didn’t steal it. I cared for an abandoned item.” “Rachel Berry. That is my favorite hoodie. I did not abandon it.” “Then why did it climb into a box and beg to be taken to New York?” “You’re so ridiculous.” Quinn pulls her arms over her head and stretches, like a cat. “I want it back. Or at least something of yours in exchange.” “You’re welcome to come and get it back. Though, I definitely like having something of yours I can wear. So,” Rachel considers the alternative, “I think I’d rather agree to an exchange.” She can’t help but stare at Quinn’s body as she stretches. “That’s incredibly unfair, by the way.” “What is?” Quinn plays coy. “You, being unrelentingly sexy while you’re untouchable,” Rachel says, still unable to look away. “I have no idea what you mean. You can’t possibly still feel turned on.” “Oh, I can’t?” It’s almost like a challenge, but Rachel has no idea if she can actually follow through on it. Quinn laughs, a genuine laugh that rumbles up through her. “Are you serious right now?” “I’m serious about the fact that you’re still half naked and I already think you’re incredibly sexy with all your clothes on.” Rachel situates herself so she’s comfortably lying on her side with one arm under her pillow. Quinn hums. “And this from the girl basically begging me to-- how did you put it?-- go down on her. I think we should talk about that some more.” “I don’t recall any begging,” Rachel says, defensively. “If anything, you were getting off on the idea that I wanted you to do it, in the first place. Which reminds me, I have some illustrated literature bookmarked, if you’d like to read it.” Quinn gapes. “You want me to read internet porn in order to perform oral sex on you?” “It’s not pornography!” Rachel insists. “It’s... instructional. With drawings, not... actual photographs. I did have to filter through a lot of other material to find it, though.” “Oh my god.” Quinn is laughing again. “So, let me make sure I understand. You filtered through a bunch of smutty internet stuff to find your instructional drawings and then... touched yourself, thinking about me doing that to you? Is that right?” She would be lying if the thought of it didn’t stir something within her. Again. “It didn’t happen the way I’m certain you’re imagining it, but... I suppose that’s ultimately what happened.” Rachel’s not exactly spent for the evening and she has a feeling that, as much as Quinn seems to be amused by all of this, she’s also not entirely unaffected. “I just wanted to be informed, because it would be our inaugural foray into oral stimulation.” Quinn brings a hand to her face and laughs into it. “I have no idea how you can be so dorky and sexy at the same time. ‘Inaugural foray into oral stimulation.’ And somehow you still manage to make me want to take you.” She looks into the webcam. It’s real again, just like that, and she isn’t laughing anymore. Rachel doesn’t even argue with the fact that she’s been pegged as a dork. She knows she’s verbose and overly enthusiastic about things that other people often overlook. “It’s my natural charisma,” she says. “You’re hooked. You can’t help it.” “You’re right. I can’t.” Quinn raises an eyebrow. “And somehow you being so full of yourself is not only completely warranted, but totally sexy.” “Do you think you’re up for another r--” Rachel freezes as she hears the handle to the room turn. The things is, really, she’s just lying on her bed, looking at her computer. It would be easy to pass of as nothing other than a situation where she simply found herself too warm and took off her shirt. It would be easy if Rachel weren’t inclined to overreact to things. As the door opens, Rachel quite obviously slams her laptop shut. “Oh my god, it’s like a thousand fucking degrees in here, what are you--” Charity stops abruptly and squeaks with surprise at the sound of Rachel’s laptop crashing closed. For the first time she actually turns to get a look at Rachel, and-- Well okay then. “.... Hiiiiii,” Charity drawls slowly, before pointedly looking at a spot on the wall just over Rachel’s shoulder. Her voice wavers between complete amusement and awkward nervousness. “So. Whatcha doin’?” “I’m just... I’m... was talk--” Wait, will that be too obvious? If she says she was talking to Quinn, Rachel’s obviously giving up the information that she was Skyping with her and then it will be apparently that they were... about to... be intimate. Again. “Reading. I was reading. Articles.” Her phone signals that she has a text message. “I should check that.” It gives her something to do, though it’s also right about now when she realizes she isn’t wearing a shirt. “It’s really hot in here.” “I’ll bet it is,” Charity chokes, trying her best to keep from laughing. It’s hard enough to combat the smile that’s slowly taking over her face, but watching Rachel try and deal with this situation is like watching a little foal learn to walk. But she hasn’t done anything wrong, and Charity doesn’t want to be an asshole. “Look, I can get lost. If you want to... finish reading. What you were reading.” The text is from Quinn, asking if everything is okay. “Would that be okay?” Rachel asks, glancing from her phone to her roommate. “I think I was almost done, anyway.” Charity is completely torn between patting Rachel on the head and giving her an affectionate oh, honey and high-fiving her. “It is absolutely and totally okay. I still owe you ice cream from the McKinley Montage of Mortification, actually. So I am going to... leave this building, and walk many blocks, and go to another building, and get you some ice cream. Because it is... very hot in here. And you can text me when you are done... reading... and I will return. With ice cream. That you totally deserve.” If she doesn’t leave this room in the next thirty seconds she might actually explode from holding in her giggle-fit. Rachel offers up a sincere, “Thank you,” then opens up her laptop. The Skype call has disconnected, so she presses the button to reconnect and hopes she isn’t still beet red by the time she shows up on Quinn’s computer screen. Charity tries to hold back, but she can’t help it. She has to. She has to say it. “Tell Quinn I say hi,” she calls nonchalantly over her shoulder as she pulls the door closed behind her. She waits until she hears the lock engage before she finally succumbs to laughter. When she lost the connection, Quinn sent a quick text just to check on Rachel, though it’s obvious what happened. Rachel had let out a panicked squeak, and Quinn had gotten the most wonderful view of a toned arm and a perfectly round breast in a brand new bra before Rachel slammed the laptop shut. Clearly someone had come into her room. Quinn guesses that it was Charity. The idea that Charity Black is seeing her girlfriend topless right now doesn’t exactly make her want to burst into song, but she also knows there’s really nothing to be done about it. When her own computer chimes to let her know that Rachel is calling, she pulls Rachel up on video. “Everything okay?” "I suppose." Rachel says, still aware of the warmth on her cheeks. "It was Charity. She left for a while, but maybe we should stick to conversation for the rest of the night." She smiles sheepishly at the webcam. "I apologize for hanging up on you." “It’s fine,” Quinn says and rolls, stretches to pull her shirt up off the floor without getting off the bed. She tugs it down over her head and settles back down. She’s grinning when she says, “It’s a good thing she wasn’t a few minutes earlier, hmm?” Rachel has no desire to put any more clothes on, at least not until Charity comes back. "Oh god, or what of I hadn't heard her come in? Were going to need a lockdown checklist and procedure in the future." “Or you could just lock the door,” Quinn says in a dry voice. "I didn't know the evening was going to take a turn,"Rachel says. "And a locked door won't keep out the other person who has a key." “Maybe not, but it would buy you enough time to at least get your hand out of your pants,” Quinn points out. She smiles. “I didn’t know it was going to either, but I’m... glad it did. I really do miss you.” "I'm definitely planning to be back in Lima for Thanksgiving. But I was thinking maybe I could also arrange a trip on Columbus Day weekend, since we have Monday off and I don't have a Friday class. Because I miss you, too. And my dads will be thrilled to have me home when they aren't scrambling to prepare a holiday dinner." Quinn runs the tip of her finger along the edge of her laptop and hums. “Maybe you should warn your dads that I might not let you out of your room the entire weekend,” she murmurs. “Columbus Day, I mean, Not Thanksgiving. You know I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving, not even for sex. Columbus Day is totally negotiable.” "This from the girl who wouldn't even go upstairs when I invited her over for dinner," Rachel replies. Quinn's hypothetical situation has Rachel feeling another wave of arousal and she wonders if it's just always going to be like this when they're apart. “Okay, maybe you have a point,” Quinn says, her blush burning all the way up to her ears. “It’s not like I want your dads to know that I’m-- deflowering their little girl. Just like I wouldn’t talk to my mother about it. That stuff is private.” “If it helps, they’ll probably have some kind of party to attend that weekend, so we would be able to have some time alone.” As of now, Rachel’s already decided. She’s going to Lima for a weekend in October. Mentally, she’s already calculating how many days away it is. “I can’t wait to see you.” It almost takes her breath away how much she can’t wait. For as much as they discussed how hard it would be to do this, Rachel’s just now realizing how much distance is really between them. “Maybe I’ll look up a countdown clock to keep track of the minutes.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “I know... that’s unnecessary. But I can’t wait, either.” “I actually think it’s kind of sweet,” Quinn says, and then Rachel isn’t the only one rolling her eyes. “It’s late. Do you have class tomorrow?” Rachel shakes her head. “No, but I do have a scene study meeting with some people from class. Not until noon, though.” “I hate to be the one to go, but I have work tomorrow... Do me a favor, Rach? Close your eyes tonight and imagine me there, holding you?” Maybe it’s sappy. Maybe it’s cheesy and awkward and not at all like her usual tough exterior, but she can’t help it. She misses Rachel so much that it physically hurts, and she has to do something or it will kill her. “Only if you promise to do the same.” Rachel props her head up on her hand. “Would you show me your tattoo again, before you go? I didn’t really get a good look, last time.” Quinn hums and holds up her wrist so Rachel can see it. “Do you really like it?” she asks softly. “I love it,” Rachel replies. “I really do.” Her tone is quiet and she’s not just talking about the tattoo. There is so much meaning in Rachel’s voice that Quinn just lays there for a second and takes it in. Finally, she sighs and says, “I’ll call you tomorrow? It’ll be early-- between work and the dance.” “I’m already counting down the minutes.”

“I’ll... we’ll do the best we can without breaking our necks. And keep it, it suits you.”