#para11

rachel

Dinner on Sunday is another somber affair. Rachel isn't sure if the mood has to do with the upcoming holiday, or because Puck's not present. If it's the latter, Rachel knows she's the sole individual at fault. After weeks of stilted cordiality it's time to rectify the situation, so she sends a text. We need to talk. 

Under most other circumstances, those four words would be a loaded statement, one crafted with ominous undertones, but for Rachel they're nothing but fact. She and Puck do need to talk, or rather she needs to talk and Puck needs to listen. After a brief exchange they arrange for Puck to pick Rachel up in Brooklyn. And as thanks for the ride into the city and for listening, Rachel promises bagels and coffee.

puck

Puck's not a bad person, she doesn't think. Kind of a fuck up, maybe, and not the best at monogamy, but a good person. So when Rachel says they need to talk, she figures there's no reason why she shouldn't go and see what she has to say. After all, what Rachel said had been hurtful, sure, but it hadn't been a lie. Puck did basically keep joking about something Rachel had told her not to joke about. So, here they are. 

She drives to Brooklyn and waits in the car, texting Rachel so she'll meet her there. If she's going to drive back into the city with her anyway she's not going to go through the trouble of finding a parking space.

rachel

Rachel's watching from the window that faces the street, and considering Puck's service vehicle isn't hard to miss, she's already headed down the flight of stairs when her phone buzzes. Climbing into the car, Rachel wears a smile. It's actually genuine, because she's at peace (mostly) with what she's about to admit and she hopes Puck is willing to move forward from this awkwardness with her. 

Handing over one of the takeaway coffee cups and the paper bag with Puck's bagel, Rachel says, "I asked my mom your usual order, so if it's wrong, you can blame her." She believes mentioning Shelby right off the bat in the nature she does sets the tone for the rest of their talk.

puck

Puck greets her with a nod. It's not about the situation between them, she's just not very talkative in the morning. Or at any other time of the day, if she's being perfectly honest. But she's relaxed as she takes the offered cup, and even as she chooses not to say that if Shelby's picked it, it'll be perfect. Shelby knows what Puck likes to have for breakfast. 

"Thanks, it's good." She puts her cup in the holder and leaves the bagel nearby for later. She's supposed to give a good example, and eating a bagel while she drives is probably not the kind of example she's supposed to set. "So," she starts, putting the car in motion, "what's up?"

rachel

Rachel settles into her seat and waits until they've driven a couple blocks before starting. "Well, I assume you're aware of the impending importance of sundown this evening, and given the time year I'm here to ask for your forgiveness." She enjoys apologizing about as much as she enjoys admitting she's wrong, and Rachel takes a steadying breath before continuing. "My mother is such an important part of my world." Rachel refrains from mentioning how important Puck is in her mother's world, because even if she believes it to be true, she's learning it's not her place to pronounce such a declaration. "As such I've allowed my feelings about what I believe she deserves to cause tension in your relationship with her, in my relationship with her, and in our relationship. And--" Another deep breath-- "that's not right. 

"I don't think I'll ever understand your relationship." As Puck stated, it's five years old now. "But I don't have to, right? It's not my relationship. And since you're two, consenting adults, the least I can do is respect it, and I failed to do that. 

"And please don't misunderstand me, Naomi. When I say what I believe my mom deserves, I mean someone who loves her and takes care of her, and that is you. Do I wish it was on a more permanent basis? Perhaps, but I suppose," Rachel pauses to smile, "five years is fairly permanent. At the end of the day you're present, you love her, and you make her happy. And I'm very sorry I've infringed on that happiness for these past weeks and I do hope you'll be able to forgive me."

puck

Puck's a pretty good listener, so that's what she does as she drives in silence. She listens. And what Rachel says makes her feel... pretty good. She does love Shelby. She takes care of her. She's present. And she tries to make her happy. She kinda wishes she could give her and Rachel the whole Hallmark movie scene where she realizes her ways have been wrong and unfulfilling and she's ready to settle down and marry Shelby and maybe have a couple kids to send to Hebrew school so they won't fall for shit like her tattoo saying 'despacito' like Rachel does. Sure, she wishes that was an option. But it's not, and honestly, she's not going to apologize for doing her best. 

"Yeah, we're good. It's no big." As she said, the Hallmark movie scene is just not gonna happen. But she does figure she can maybe say a couple more words. "You know, I'm not permanent. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not here to sell the whole... commitment phobic lone wolf shtick until I find the right girl and I decide to go full monogamist and put an U-Haul on it, y'know?" Because she knows that's a popular approach, and while she doesn't give two shits what other people do with their time and their beds, that's just not her deal at all. "It's not gonna get more right than Shelby. I mean, she's it, I've peaked." Because that's the thing about 'commitment phobic until loved out of it' deal. It makes it seem like Puck's bidding her time until she finds someone better. And she knows there's no such thing as better than Shelby, so she wants to make that clear.

"Y'know, I'm kind of a fuck up. Not all the time, but... well, you know." Because they've known each other a while. Rachel's dating Quinn, the girl who taught Puck she just shouldn't ever pretend to be someone she's not because people get hurt. Rachel's seen her take like, three times as long as your average agent to get the detective promotion. Rachel knows her pretty damn well, so she doesn't need to explain. "If things stay like this, nobody gets hurt. I can save fucking up for my own time and be good for her. And she can find the permanent thing she deserves. Cause I know she does." She's not just saying that, either. Look at Evie, and Kitty, and all her other friends with benefits who found the right person. She means it when she says she wants them to find someone else. "So I just don't want you acting like I'm here using her or being a dick to her. Cause I think you know she's too smart to put up with that bullshit for five years."

rachel

Instead of sighing in frustration, Rachel takes a long drag of her coffee. She swallows down the drink and her need for rebuttal. Because while they both agree that Shelby deserves someone more permanent, there will no agreement on whom that individual is. "I don't think you're using her. I've never thought that, and not because you like to play Mr. Fix-It around the house." Rachel glances in Puck's direction and grins. The amount of squeaky hinges and dripping faucets fixed, burned out bulbs replaced and furniture building Puck has done is pretty priceless. There's not a room in the house that doesn't have some permanent touch of hers. "I'm certain someone that was using someone else wouldn't construct and build that person a custom-made shelf."

puck

The furniture she's built and stuff she's fixed around Shelby's house is one of those things they don't really talk about. Puck does it, and she knows what it means, and she thinks Shelby knows, too, but they don't really acknowledge it out loud. But Rachel does. And it's a little... she'd say it's a little like being caught mid-fuck, but frankly, that wouldn't have felt as invasive at this. This is feelings stuff. Private shit. In a way, she never thought anyone realized what was going on between her and Shelby, beyond an ongoing fwb thing. "She deserves good shelves." 

She deserves more than shelves, but shelves is the best Puck can give her, so it is what it is. She'll keep building shelves that mean things much bigger than anything you can buy at Home Depot. Because she knows she fucks things up. Ask her Ma. But the shelves and all the furniture she's ever built for Shelby... well, she can't fuck that up. It'll keep being nice and making Shelby's life a little better even without her. 

"I'd never hurt her," she kinda blurts it out after a few moments of silence. "If I ever thought I was gonna hurt her or make her unhappy, I'd get out of her life before it happened. You know that, right?" She thinks Rachel must, but just in case. She knows her leaving would hurt her too, in a way. But she saw her father finally fuck off out of her and her Ma's life and that hurt was miles better than the one he caused when he was around. So she thinks she knows what she's talking about. She'd leave before she put Shelby through any kind of pain. "I want her happy. That's pretty much it."

rachel

"I know, Naomi. She wouldn't keep you around if you did. Hurt her that is." Rachel knows that for a fact. And she knows that Shelby and Puck have been doing what works for them for five years because there's a certain level of trust and respect, and even if neither will say it aloud, love that keeps them together. "And you wanting her happy means we want the same thing, so..." Rachel shrugs. It's a common goal on which she can focus. 

Rachel knows she and Puck will be fine after this. The tension that's brewed between them over the past few weeks will slowly burn off and soon enough they'll return to usual banter. And Rachel knows that tonight she can also apologize to her mom for affecting and invading her relationship. She can care without infringing upon autonomy. 

TEXT MESSAGES

Puck: On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is an article about your fiance having a romantic beach outing with her ex boyfriend while she was suppose to be at Disney and TMZ posting a story about it? I'm going with 10, 10 for murder.

Puck: I should also probably mention that Cedes has texts  where Sam tells her he loves her.

Rachel: 25 to life, Noah.

Puck: But what if I murder Sam and no one finds the body?

Rachel: Though I think we’d make an excellent Bonnie and Clyde tag team, I truly do not want to be an accessory to your murderous rage.

Rachel: Where are you?

Puck: If I don't tell you where the body is you can't be an accessory.

Puck: I'm at the Morrison

Rachel: I listen to My Favorite Murder, Noah. The FBI will pull my phone and text records and then where will we be.

Rachel: Is that a hotel?

Puck: This is why we need burner phones, so many perfect murders are ruined thanks to the FBI.

Puck: It's a pub

Rachel: Do you want some company?

Rachel: We could discuss details of a murder you won’t commit in person.

Puck: Yeah, I do.

Puck: Commit, not commit, we'll play it by ear.

[ a short pause ]

Rachel: Give me a few. I’ll catch an Uber.

Rachel: Is it alright if let Quinn know where I’m headed?

Puck: Alright, see you soon.

Puck: Figured you would, since you two are buddy buddy

Rachel: Okay. Be there soon.

Rachel: Order me whatever you’re drinking.

Puck: Whiskey, got it.

After the TMZ exclusive went viral, it didn’t take long at all for the news to spread around their group of friends. And while Rachel knew she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to much beyond the bubble she had been sharing with Quinn, she was still caught off guard. She knew gossip sites would run with whatever story would earn them the most hits, but Puck had disappeared, and call it her sometimes psychic tinglings, but Rachel felt uneasy. She was trying not to jump to conclusions, to draw her line in proverbial sand until all parties involved had said their piece, but her heart ached for Noah anyway, and the fact that she was in an Uber headed across Los Feliz to meet him in a pub said enough about where she stood.

Entering the Morrison, Rachel’s gaze flitted around the tables before she spotted Puck sitting on a stool at the bar. The stool beside him was open, so Rachel didn’t hesitate in walking over to claim the spot as her own. She let her elbow slide across the bar top until she could nudge Puck. “Anyone bothering you?” Since the engagement had been announced a couple weeks ago, Rachel knew Puck had been recognized. And with today’s top entertainment news story...  “I know I look small, but I’m all muscle. I can scare them off for you.”

After seeing the article on TMZ Puck knew he couldn't stay in the same house as Mercedes or Sam that night. If he did his actions would probably end up on TMZ and the morning news. Puck stuffed a change of clothes in his backpack, grabbed the guitar Sugar had gifted him and walked until he came across a pub. Walking inside he sat down at the bar and began to alternate between beer and whiskey. After an hour of mopping by himself he texted Rachel and she agreed to come keep him company, an action he'd probably thank her for poorly as the evening went on.

Felt Rachel's nudge and chuckled softly at her question. "No, I think I look like I'm gonna kill someone or sing a shitty version of All By Myself so everyone is leaving me alone." Nudged Rachel back and nodded. "Oh I know, one punch to the throat and anyone that crossed you would be down for the count."

“I’ll allow that slight about my height just tonight, Noah Puckerman,” Rachel teased, even if it didn’t really fit the somberness of the occasion. The bartender then set down a small glass with two fingers of what Rachel assumed was whiskey, and she looked toward Noah as she took the drink in her hands. “Are we shooting or are we sipping?” She hadn’t planned on really drinking too much after Vegas, but she’d do it for Puck if he needed a friend to get drunk with.

"Depends on what you're drinking to", Puck replied before downing the shot in front of him. "If you're drinking because you're happy, sip, if you've got something to get off your mind, shoot."

With that, Rachel eyed her drink for another moment and then tossed it back. She couldn’t help but grimace at the burn that lingered even as she set her glass down and used the palm of her hand to smack the bar twice. “Another!” she announced. That’s how they did it in movies, right? And as she waited for her drink to refilled, she turned her head to look at Puck, hesitated for only a moment, and then gently asked, “Have you talked to her at all?”

Smiled for the first time since the news broke, when Rachel threw her drink back. "That's exactly how they do it in the movies and since I'm buying you can do that as many times as you want", he replied. "No, I mean on the set of The Real and shit all day and she's filming Blackish tomorrow. Hard to find time to ask her what's up with love confession text messages and a secret beach date with her ex when we're the ones that are getting married in a few days."

Her drink was refilled and even though Rachel knew she should probably wait another few minutes for downing it, back it went. If she had something in her mouth, she didn’t need to talk yet, and right now she wasn’t exactly sure what to say. She didn’t know why Puck wouldn’t have gone to wherever Mercedes was this evening and demand answers or to talk. But as the alcohol burned again -- though this time in a slightly more pleasant manner -- Rachel did admit to herself that Puck likely didn’t do that because he didn’t embody the penchant for dramatics that she personally did.

With her drink downed and now swallowed, Rachel nodded as she pushed the empty glass back and forth between her palms. “Are we going to have to go all Bonnie and Clyde? Or Thelma and Louise? Drive the bus off a cliff?”

"Pretty sure Finn would follow us into the afterlife and kick our asses if we drove the bus off a cliff", he added before signaling the bartender for another drink. For a moment he looked at the menu in front of him, figuring they should eat something if they were going to be drinking as much as they were. "Want some fries?" he asked in a poor attempt to avoid addressing the issue at hand. "I… I really don't know what to do. We haven't been talking a ton and maybe, maybe this whole wedding thing isn't suppose to happen."

“Fries. Yeah, I can do fries.” And Rachel wouldn’t even inquire if the fryers were shared with meat products. At least not tonight. Pushing her glass away -- she knew she should get some food in her stomach before the next drink, otherwise Puck would have to be carrying her out of the pub, Rachel turned on her stool to face Puck. Her knees bumped against his thigh, but the added closeness seemed right, to keep their conversation between just them.

“Not to state the obvious, but talking does seem like it needs to be your top priority...” Then, cautiously, “Are you... Noah, are you just going through the motions now because that’s what you think you have to do? What’s expected of you? Or because it’s what you want?”

"Talk, so easy to say but not all that easy to do sometimes", he sighed. Puck ordered them each an order of fries, his with parmesan, hers without. "Is it bad that I don't really know? Before this trip I thought I was doing the right thing, marrying who I was suppose to be with my entire life. Now? The love is still there, I love Mercedes, but...I don't know if I'm in love with her."

“So what’s changed? Besides the not talking stuff, of course.” Because if Puck thought what he was doing before the trip was the right thing, how had that spiraled into this...mess in less a month. Rachel tried to rack her brain about certain events that stood out to her, but aside from the day they visited the military museum and the uncomfortable awkwardness that followed, there really wasn’t a particular incident she could point to.

"Well for one I think she's in love with Sam, never really stopped being in love with Sam. And I know Sam loves her", he blurted out. "And well maybe we were never in love, more in love with the idea of being in love", Puck admitted for the first time to himself and outloud. "

Lips pressed into a thin line, Rachel did recall hearing about the radio interview Mercedes had given where she was asked about first loves and she had been so candid, and in some ways cavalier in her response about Sam, especially considering her pending nuptials. “You have options, Noah,” Rachel started as she reached forward, her hand coming to rest just above his knee to offer a soft, supportive squeeze. She couldn’t make this decision for him, she couldn’t tell him what to do, but she could offer her support. Maybe all this boiled down to cliched cold feet, and if so, “Postponing the ceremony. Taking the time to figure out exactly what you both want.”

He had options, but all of them had a downside, several had pretty big downsides. Still he had to do what was right. "I can't marry someone that's in love with someone else and who I'm not even sure I'm in love with", Puck replied. "Have you have been so into someone that you thought you were in love? That everything seemed to come so easy and feels perfect? That's what I felt with Mercedes before we went on the road trip. I'm not sure I was ever in love with her, but I was in love with the thought of loving someone and someone loving me."

With a pat to his leg, Rachel shifted on the stool, hoping the dim lights of the pub wouldn’t draw attention to the way her cheeks had warmed, since at the mention of being into someone so much that you thought you were in love, she thought of Quinn. Because there was a time that summer when Quinn had cut off all contact that Rachel tried to convince herself that her feelings were born from nothing but infatuation, an intense girl crush from spending all the time that they did together. But she knew that was a lie -- perhaps like how Noah seemed almost sure now that the opposite was true for him.

“Love’s a tricky thing,” Rachel began, eyes straight ahead but a bit unfocused as moments from the past few weeks with Quinn played on a reel in her mind. “You kind of get stuck in a bubble and reality...it can twist. You don’t know what’s up or down.”

"Love is fucked up, that's what it is", he said bluntly. "How did I get to this point? Sitting in a bar, mopping about a girl not being in love with me. High school Puck would have just have gone out and found someone to fuck."

“But you’re not high school Puck anymore. None of us are who were then.” Even if it had been all too easy to slip into familiar patterns over these past few weeks. “I don’t want to say you’re a better person,” Rachel continued, pausing to lick her lips and think over her words, “because I adored high school Noah Puckerman. He was a pretty great guy.” Even when he slept with Quinn, Rachel couldn’t blame him, and she only saw red (and then green) for a couple of days.

“And you’re a great guy now, too, but we’re all...” Rachel paused again, fingertips drumming out a rhythm against the bar for a few beats before she picked up her train of thought once more. “We’re like snakes, Noah. Each year that passes we shed another layer and we learn a little something more about who we are. We’re one step closer to becoming the people we’re meant to be.” It wasn’t the best metaphor, but Rachel wasn’t sure an onion Shrek reference was suitable for this moment.

"You could have fooled me, some of this shit feels way too high school to me", Puck committed. He nodded his head in agreement, he'd hoped he'd changed, that he changed a little every year. "I really didn't know what I was doing with this relationship did I?" he asked earnestly. "I went into it full force and never paused, never thought that things wouldn't be like they were at the beginning." Saying  it outloud made Puck realize just how naive he'd been. "So much for first love."

She never had to announce her hugs with Noah, so Rachel just leaned over, really leaned into him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It seemed like he had perhaps come to a decision of sorts through talking, working out his feelings aloud, and really all she could do was support him. “First loves aren’t your only loves. I know from experience.” Though perhaps Rachel had briefly entertained the idea that maybe her first love could potentially be her last, but she and Quinn weren’t even close to that point in their rebuilding of their friendship. Relationship. Whatever they were doing.

Rachel pressed her lips against Noah’s cheek just like she had four days ago when they were celebrating in Vegas, and it was so crazy to think of how everything had seemingly changed since them. “And I’m not sure it’s entirely possible to know what we’re doing when we have two parts of us that sometimes want to guide us in different directions.” Another kiss and a squeeze. “Write some music. Make your heart and your head talk to each other.”

Put his arms around Rachel's waist and kind of melted into the hug. "You know for someone so tiny you can hold up a lot of weight. The weight of a grown man full of alcohol", he said with a slight laugh. "First love, last love, whatever way  you want to put it."

Rachel's mention of writing made Puck realize that he hadn't shared his news. "So on the front that doesn't involve a break up I've got some news for you. I kinda got offered a writing and recording deal from a label in New York."

“Get out!” Rachel’s tone had dramatically shifted from what it was just a second ago as her hands pushed off Puck’s shoulders so that she could look him in the eye. “Are you serious?!” And then she was hugging him again, well, hugging and shaking because the mood had sort of shifted. “You know if I was financially able I’d be buying a round for everyone right now in your honor. I’m so proud of you, Noah.”

Couldn't help but laugh and then grin at Rachel's reaction. "Seriously, someone posted a video of us singing at the open mic night, the label saw it and they liked what they heard. I'll be signing the deal next week", he replied. "Oh I know you would and you'd go to each and everyone of them and tell them just how proud you are."

“You know I expect a dedication on your first album’s booklet.” Rachel didn’t care if it was in actual print or just a PDF. “And a signed copy. And a seat front row and center at your first show. Aaaand, if you feel like using a certain brown-eyed girl as inspiration for writing the next big hit...” Rachel’s nonchalant shrug grew into a wide grin. “Have at it.”

"You get a whole page and a crate of records, who knows you may be one of 20 people that actually like my music. A front row seat will always be for you and I'll have a song called 'Rachel' so no one can confuse just who the song is about." Puck thanked the waitress when she dropped off their fries and proceeded to dunk a few in ranch dressing. "When you drank you first shot, you downed it, that means you've got something to get off your chest", Puck commented. "You listened to me go on about love so I'm all about welcoming you to my metaphorical couch."

Rachel easily could play off downing the drink like a shot in nothing more than solidarity and commiseration, but she figured with everything Puck had just divulged, the trust he had put in her hands, she could return it. So after sprinkling her fries with malt vinegar and dunking two in ketchup, she admitted, “I think you’re maybe a little bit psychic, too, because Quinn and I have sort of been doing a lot of kissing lately.”

"I knew it!", he said with a mouth full of fries. "You really into her or just having some fun on vacation?", Puck asked before signalling the bartender for another beer.

Mimicking the motion Puck did -- this wasn’t the time to slam her palm on the bar top again -- Rachel ate a few more fries as she considered just how much she wanted to share. But with a pint glass in front of her to match her very own-pintsize, and knowing in her heart that Noah was one of the safest people she could tell her secrets to, “I’ve been into her since high school.”

Puck was a bit surprised by Rachel's admission. She wasn't big on dating and aside from a date with a chick he thought was hot, he'd only ever known her to have dated Jesse. "Since high school? And you two didn't act on things until now?"

Rachel was sure she may have audibly gulped, so she grabbed her glass and downed nearly a third of the pint. “Oh my god, Noah!” A grimace contorted her features for a moment as she willed the taste of beer from her tongue. “How can you drink this?” But then Rachel took another swig, maybe for the courage, maybe to just have another few seconds before saying, “Something happened the summer before senior year and it kind of screwed up everything. We’re only just now figuring it all out so, I know this goes without saying, but please don’t say anything. Or do that eyebrow waggle thing you do.”

"Easy, you chug it", Puck said before downing the rest of his beer. "This is why didn't go to many keg parties together in high school, you would have been useless to me at beer pong", he added. "Well shit, why wasn't I told all about your sexy lady times? I would have wanted details and a little stick people flip box." Thought for a moment and remember that there was some weirdness between Quinn and Rachel senior year but chalked it up to weird chick drama that he wasn't about to get himself into. "You know I can't control the eyebrow waggle, my eyebrows have a mind of their own."

“Control them or I’ll go all 90s teen romcom on you and you’ll wake up to no eyebrows,” Rachel teased, and then softened her tone. “Are you coming back to the house tonight?”

"How dare you!", he huffed. "Probably gonna get a hotel room. Not ready to face the music just yet."

It was understandable that he wouldn’t return to the house, but still, Rachel worried. “Will you at least text me wherever you end up?” And then, after she realized, “Or I could go with you? Unless you just want to do whatever on your own...” Rachel just sort of shrugged, not wanting to impose, but also not wanting to abandon Puck, either.

"Don't worry I'll keep you in the loop", Puck replied before finishing his fries. "Probably just gonna get a hotel room nearby. You're welcome to come, that is if your lady isn't waiting for you back at the house."

“She is,” Rachel admitted. They also had plans for morning and the rest of the day, though Rachel wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about the set tour anymore. “But I just don’t want to abandon one of my best guys in his time of need.” She shifted on her stool again, leaning in close to Puck, and softly sang, “If you need me, call me. No matter where you are, no matter how far, don’t worry, Noah. Just call my name and I’ll be there in a hurry, you don’t have worry.”

"I'll be okay, Rachel, I'm not gonna do anything crazy or get arrested." Puck leaned in and gave Rachel a hug. "Thanks for coming out and making things not suck as much."

“Always. I love you, Noah. And again, I’m so proud of you.” And Rachel meant that not only about his new contract, but also for just taking the time to sort through his feelings, to talk things out. High school Noah would have been punching walls. And possibly Sam. “One more drink?”

Kink warning: Domination, teasing, begging/desperation, spanking, hair pulling, (sort of) voyuerism, (sort of) semi-public; ‘blink-and-you’ll-miss-it’ versions of the following: slut-shaming, aftercare

Benji smiled and tugged on Franco's shirt again, pulling him so his mouth was right next to Franco's ear. "Oh, you're definitely gonna make it up to me," he teased, giving his boyfriend's ear a quick nibble. "You broke a rule, Franc," he scolded, accentuating his point by giving his ass a hard slap. "Did you forget what happens when you break one of Benji's rules?"

Franco groaned slightly, biting his lip, "I knew I would have too" he breathed back as he jumped slightly at the smack to his ass, "I didn't know there was a punishment linked to Benji's rules" he breathed, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"You didn't know there was a punishment?" Benji cooed, rubbing Franco's ass gently before giving it another hard smack. "You broke a rule, so you obviously forgot who's in charge--" another hard smack--"and I can't have that, can I?" 

He pursed his lips in pseudothought for a moment as he rubbed Franc's ass again, then gave his a smile. "Mm, you're gonna give me a little show, Francie... You're gonna play with yourself for a while like a good little plaything, and then I'm gonna make sure you never forget who's in charge again."

Franco jumped and groaned with every hard slap, "For a man with one hand, you sure have a good slap on you" he hissed out. He listened to Benji's words, "You want me to jack myself off? Right here? In your lounge?" he asked, clarifying what he'd heard, "As if I don't know you are in charge" he breathed out.

"For starters," Benji confirmed with a grin. "You're gonna open yourself up for me too, Babe. And get me hard." He hummed, already palming himself over his pajama pants. "I want a good show too. I'm not afraid to call out demands, but I'd much rather watch you be a good little slut all on your own."

Franco moved backwards, resting his head on the arm of the sofa and tilted it, "Wait, I have to do all the hard work?" he asked, confusion on his face. Benji was always the dominant one and this was a new request, "Like you want me to what... finger myself?"

"Mhm," Benji hummed, palming himself as he watched Franco get into position. "C'mon, Babe. Give me a good show."

Franco groaned a little as he watched Benji palm himself and he nodded, removing his clothes, leaving him naked on the sofa. He bit his lip as he started to work his own cock with one hand and brought the other around too his whole, sucking his fingers first before starting to slowly play with himself, "Like this..." he breathed.

"Just like that," Benji praised, his cock already hardening from the sight. "Look at you, Franc... Playing with yourself for me just like I asked, being such a good little toy for me... Be honest, Babe. Do you like being my little toy?"

Franco wasn't normally one for playing with himself, sure he wanked but never like this. He found he got turned on by Benji's words and the fact Benji was enjoying this and soon enough he was rock hard, "Of course I do" he breathed, through his gritted teeth, "Always yours.... Always"

"That's it..." Benji whispered, his cock hard against his pajama pants. He sat up and slapped his boyfriend's ass. "Hands off your cock, Franc. Just focus on that hole," he whispered. "So hot, Baby... And all mine. I love it."

Franco jumped with the slap but nodded, removing his hand from his cock and starting to work his hole, "Fuck babe" he breathed out, "I ain't never done this to myself before" he breathed as he slowly inserted another finger.

"Such a greedy hole. Does it feel good, Babe? Tell me how it feels," Benji smirked, palming himself through his pajamas as he watched. "Mm... Get it nice and ready for me, Baby."

Franco continued going, arching his own back as he went, "Feels so fucking good" he moaned, one hand returning back to his cock, "So fucking good" he repeated, his head thrown back and biting on his lip

"Ah ah ah," Benji scolded, giving Franco's ass another slap before rubbing it gently as he continued. "No touching your cock. Be good and follow my instructions, Babe."

Franco groaned but moved his hand away and put it under his back, removing temptation as he continued to work his hole, "Fuck babe.... You know I'm a rule breaker".

"Don't forget who's in charge, Baby. You're not allowed to break my rules." Benji scolded lightly, finally pulling his pajamas down enough to reveal his cock. "Mm... you almost ready for me, Baby?" he purred, slowly jerking himself off.

Franco moaned, taking a deep breath as he continued to finger is hole, "Yeah and what happens if I break the rules babe" he breathed out as he watched Benji get his cock out, "I'm always ready for you babe".

Benji moved forward and pulled Franco into a deep kiss, intertwining his hand in Franco's hair. "I'm not gonna hold back, Baby," he whispered, turning Franco onto his stomach and starting to kiss his neck as he lined up his cock with his boyfriend's hole. "So tight," he whispered, thrusting inside.

Franco moaned as Benji gripped his hair and he turned with Benji easily, his chest now resting on the arm of the chair. As Benji lined up with his hole and thrust in, he let out a loud moan, his hands instantly reaching for his own cock and stroking it, not caring about the rules, "Yes, fuck Benj" he spoke out, almost lost in his moans.

Benji grabbed Franco's hair as he thrust into him again, using it as leverage as he found his rhythm. "Fucking take it," he groaned out, tugging at his hair with every thrust inside. When he saw Franc's hand go to his cock,  he let go of Franc's hair and gave his ass a hard slap. "Hands off, Babe," he growled, his pace never slowing.

Franco groaned harder as Benji thrusted into him and tugged on his hair, he loved his hair being pulled like that and it made him scream out a little, the screams becoming loud moans. He jumped slightly as he felt the slap and moved his hand away, bringing it up to the arm of the chair and resting his head on it to try and stop him going back, "Fuck babe, so fucking good" he moaned.

Benji moaned, biting down on Franco's shoulder as he sped up his thrusts, Franco's moans turning him on more than he could explain. "You're all mine, Baby," he groaned, pulling Franco's body closer for more leverage. "No one else's. All mine."

Franco groaned hard when Benji bit him, biting down on his own arm as the thrusts got faster and he was pullled into Benji a bit more, "Always yours" he breathed out, "Always fucking yours".

Benj kissed Franco's neck, leaving a line of hickeys down the side of it as he took his boyfriend's cock in his hand, slowly jerking it odd. "Wanna cum, Babe?" he purred, his thrusts never slowing. "You know what you have to do if you wanna cum, Francie."

Franco groaned with every mark left on his neck and then clenched his fist when Benji grabbed his cock, "Fuck" he breathed out, "Fuck Benji I wanna come so hard right now, please" he said, loudly knowing Benji liked him when he was loud

"Mm, so hot when you beg, Franc," Benji whispered, his eyes closing. "C'mon, Babe. Cum for me." He turned Franco's head and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, thrusting his hand faster as he did.

Franco threw his head back, giving Benji more access to kiss him as he gripped his hands together and moaned through his orgasm, cumming on Benji's hand, his whole body moving from catching his breath, "Fuck babe" he breathed out.

Benji groaned and thrust one more time before cumming, his hand falling to Franco's waist. "Fuck," he whispered, starting to catch his breath as he pulled out. "It's been weeks... I missed you so bad."

Franco moaned as Benji came and he turned back over to look at Benji properly, "I missed you too, so freaking much" he breathed, "I needed that baby".

Benji grabbed Franco's waist and pulled him so he was in Benji's lap. "I needed it too." He smiled, leaning in and giving him a kiss. "Mmm, I've never heard you moan that much. So, so hot, Baby."

Franco sat with Benji and smiled, "I don't know, it just felt so much more intense" he said. He knew why, he knew it was cause he was finally clean, "I... I enjoyed that babe".

Benji's smile went wide, giving Franc another kiss. "Well I'll have to write down what I did tonight. I definitely want more of that," he teased, running his good hand down Franco's body. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Baby... So hot..."

Franco nodded, "Hmmm, you could do that to me all the freaking time and I wouldn't complain". He bit his lip and smiled at Benji, shivering slightly with the touch, "Hair pulling, lots more hair pulling"

"Noted," Benji replied, pulling Franco into a soft kiss. He pulled back and smiled up at his boyfriend, breaking into a soft laugh. "Wanna hop in the shower? ...And then we'll need to clean the sofa too."

Franco smiled and nodded, "I need a shower" he breathed, "But I ain't cleaning the sofa... I don't do cleaning" he said, pushing himself upwards.

Rachel is still riding the wave of bliss from her (yes, absolutely a date) date with Quinn when she makes the decision to gather her friends together in one place so she can drop the Quinn-bomb on them at the same time. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the wisest decision, because now she's going to have to actually face them and their collective reactions all at once and with nowhere to escape since she'd invited them to her own apartment to do the deed.

She'd extended the breakfast invitation (because she may be trying to butter them up with food) for eight a.m. on Saturday morning—a necessity for her to be able to make her matinee performance—and while Santana had bitched and moaned about the early time, she isn't one to pass up free food. Though she won't come out and say it, the fact that they haven't seen one another in nearly two months might have played into her eventual agreement.

So Rachel had cooked up a hefty batch of her famous—well, in her own mind—banana pancakes, which are currently waiting inside a ceramic warming dish, sliced up fresh strawberries and bananas for the topping, and even fried up a portion of disgusting bacon and sausage links for her meat-loving friends. The coffee is brewed and ready to be poured, and Rachel is currently pacing her living room and feeling like she needs to throw-up.

Maybe she should have taken Stephanie up on her generous offer to be here for moral support, but it's too late for that now—as evidenced by the sound of her intercom buzzer. Taking a breath, Rachel answers with a nervous, "Hello."

"Buzz us up, Berry. It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra out here," comes Santana's irritated voice.

Brittany's voice soon joins in with, "Don't witches get burned at the stake, though? Wouldn't their tits be, like, super hot?"

Giggling nervously, Rachel presses the button to unlock the door to the building and tells them to, "Come on up," before she returns to her pacing while she waits for them to make their way up to her apartment.

All too soon, there's a rapid knocking at her door, so Rachel steels her shoulders and opens it, immediately stepping back as Santana barges inside with Brittany at her side, announcing, "We're here."

Rachel rolls her eyes at the typical uncouth entrance, but manages to smile at Brittany when she bounces inside with a grin and stops to give Rachel a quick hug with a cheerful, "Hey, Rach."

"Hi, Brittany," she responds laughingly, always happy to be on the receiving end of one of Brittany's exuberant bear hugs, even if her stomach is currently churning with anxiety.

Kurt and Blaine follow directly behind them, and Rachel's eyebrows inch up. "Oh…I didn't realize you'd all come together."

"We met them at the door as they were coming in," Kurt explains, pausing to give Rachel a hug in greeting.

"So you can reassure Hummel that you're not preggers or something," Santana cuts in, unbuttoning her coat, "'cause he seems to think you've got some big, life-changing announcement to make."

"Kurt!" Rachel barks with a frown, stepping back. "I already told you I wasn't!"

"And I've told him he shouldn't ask a woman that," Blaine offers with an apologetic smile, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Rachel's heated cheek. "It's rude," he directs solely to his husband.

Kurt huffs, shrugging out of his own coat. "She's my best friend. I'm allowed to ask her about her life."

"And gossip about it, apparently," Santana mutters as she tosses her coat over the back of Rachel's sofa.

"I wasn't gossiping," Kurt defends. "I was speculating. I mean, you have seemed to be glowing lately, Rachel," he points out, eying her intently. "When you're not looking green around the gills, that is."

"And it does look like you've packed on a few extra pounds there," Santana adds with a smirk.

"I have not!" Rachel screeches, pressing a hand to her stomach. Okay, maybe she shouldn't have eaten the whole box of homemade chocolates she'd bought on Monday, but they'd been so good.

"She's still pocket-sized, San," Brittany argues supportively. "She's just wearing a really unflattering sweater today."

"True dat," Santana agrees with a grin while Rachel surrenders to her urge to glance down at her simple, striped sweater self-consciously. "And she knows I'm just messing with her, don't you, Berry?" Santana asks, directing her gaze back to Rachel. "Because you've obviously got something cooking, or you wouldn't have dragged our asses here at the crack of dawn."

"I think it's sausage," Brittany decides.

Santana tilts her head, taking a deep, appreciative breath. "Hmm. Yeah. And is that bacon?"

Rachel nods, attempting to forcibly calm her nerves by focusing on breakfast. "Yes. I also have coffee and banana pancakes whenever you're ready."

Brittany claps her hands together. "Oh, I love bananas."

"Well, damn. Fork us up some of that," Santana demands, turning for the small dining area outside the kitchen.

"Santana," Kurt calls out after her. "Really, how can you think of food at a time like this?"

"Maybe because I'm hungry," Santana calls back, forcing everyone to follow her to the table before she finally stops and turns, hands on her hips. "If Rachel's gonna tell us she's doing some stupid-ass thing like moving to California to be on some shitty T.V. show or dating some jerkface like Jesse St. Jackass again, I'd rather hear it on a full stomach."

Kurt crosses his arms with a frown. "Well, I certainly can't be expected to enjoy my meal with this suspense hanging over us! I've been waiting months to find out what Rachel's secret is."

"Months, huh?" Santana echoes, turning her assessing gaze on Rachel.

Rachel can feel her entire body trembling under the scrutiny, and she wrings her hands together. "Can't we just…enjoy our breakfast first? Please?" she begs, needing the extra time to gather up her courage now that she's facing four curious and slightly annoyed faces.

"Kurt, honey," Blaine soothes, laying a hand on Kurt's arm. "She made us pancakes."

"With bananas," Brittany chimes in, batting her eyelashes at Santana.

Santana's posture relaxes slightly, and she nods. "I vote we get our eats on before I have to deal with the latest Berry-flavored drama."

All eyes turn to Kurt, who releases a long suffering sigh. "Fine."

Granted a momentary reprieve, Rachel distracts herself by dishing out their breakfast while her friends take their seats around the table. Apparently, it's been at least a month since the two couples have really had a chance to catch up with each other's lives as well, so they manage to carry on a conversation that doesn't really involve Rachel very much. Of course, she manages to join in here and there while they eat, but her mind keeps wandering to the various versions of the speech that she's mentally composed to tell them about Quinn.

Before she realizes it, an hour has passed and everyone's plates—with the exception of her own—are clean.

"Breakfast was really good, Rachel," Brittany compliments before popping one last slice of banana into her mouth.

"Thank you, Brittany."

"How do you get your pancakes so perfectly round?" Blaine asks, smiling.

Pleased that he noticed, Rachel smiles back—though she suspects it's a little wan compared to her other smiles. "The trick is to use a turkey baster to dispense the same measurement of batter every time."

"I never thought of that."

"Yes, and if you…"

"I don't mean to interrupt this awesome episode of my boring kitchen," Santana cuts in, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, wait, I totally do. Now that my stomach isn't writhing with hunger pains, and I'm at least sixty percent awake, I'm ready for this big announcement of yours."

"Yes," Kurt practically shouts, raising his hand in mock praise. "Thank you, Santana."

"Are you leaving New York, Rachel?" Brittany asks with a frown. "Because I think that would make me kind of sad."

"I'm not leaving," Rachel assures them.

"Then what the hell is this about?" Santana presses. "You called us all here, plied us with food, you've apparently had Kurt's panties all bunched up for months," she observes, pointing over at Kurt who's actually nodding in agreement, "and it's been all quiet on the crazy Rachel front at Casa de la Pierce-Lopez since the holidays."

"Santana misses you," Brittany informs her.

Santana scoffs, shaking her head in denial. "I don't. I'm just used to the noise," she explains, her cheeks growing ruddy. "It's like background music at this point. I get twitchy when it's too quiet…like that moment in a horror movie right before the monster jumps out and kills you."

There's an audible gasp from Kurt's side of the table, and Rachel glances in his direction to see wide, horrified eyes and fingers pressed over his mouth. "You're not dying, are you?" he whispers in dismay.

"No," Rachel is quick to deny. How had this conversation even spiraled to that? "No…I'm fine, Kurt. Perfectly healthy. Really. It's nothing bad. At least, I don't think it's bad," she insists, frowning when she realizes that, "Okay, admittedly, at first it was confusing and incredibly frustrating, and I certainly can't say it was particularly good, but now…now it's really the best thing," she assures them passionately, trying to organize her words into some semblance of the coherent speech she'd intended to make. "And I think, once you get over the…um…the surprise…you'll feel the same way."

When she finally stops rambling, four sets of eyes stare at her in confusion until Santana tosses up her hands and says, "Okay, nobody has any idea what the fuck you're talking about."

"Did you realize that you're really a Raymond?" Brittany asks her solemnly. "Because we'll totally support you."

Okay, so there was absolutely no coherence in her speech after all, and Rachel concedes that with a defeated, "No. I…I'm seeing…someone. Romantically," she announces stiltedly, feeling her heart rise into her throat.

"I knew it!" Kurt shouts triumphantly.

"Yeah. Like you knew she was knocked up?" Santana challenges, rolling her eyes.

"I was speculating."

Santana shakes her head at him, turning her attention back to Rachel. "So, you're seeing someone. What's the big deal?"

"He has to be married," Kurt decides with a concerned frown before Rachel has the chance to respond.

"Or she is," Blaine offers.

"Or shim," Brittany adds, and when everyone only looks at her, she shrugs. "What? It's a valid pronoun."

Santana pulls her eyes away from her wife, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "Or it's someone you know we'll hate."

"You promised you weren't seeing Riley again," Kurt reminds her.

The churning in Rachel's stomach grows worse, and she prays her pancakes aren't going to make a reappearance. "It's not Riley. It's…" she pauses, licking her lips and swallowing down the lump in her throat. "It's Quinn."

Silence meets the revelation, though Rachel can see Santana's expression darkening in instant comprehension.

"Is that your new costar?" Blaine asks innocently.

Kurt looks equally perplexed. "You've never mentioned any…oh," he stops himself, eyes widening in comprehension. "You can't mean…?"

"The fucking bitch who bailed on us when Finn died?" Santana supplies with a scowl. "Are you serious right now?"

Rachel presses her palms against the table and draws in a fortifying breath. "Okay….you…you don't understand. Just let me explain…"

"You're dating our Quinn," Brittany repeats, studying Rachel with mix of hope and bewilderment.

"She's not dating our anything," Santana refutes bitterly. "Quinn Fabray is as good as dead as far as I'm concerned."

The statement slams into Rachel with the force of a physical blow, leaving her breathless with the knowledge of how close Quinn had come to actually being dead. "God…don't. Don't say that. You don't know…" she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

"And I don't want to know," Santana informs her bitterly, leaning forward in her chair. "Jesus, Rachel. I know you can still be a doormat sometimes, but I can't believe you'd even give her the time of day after what she pulled. She wasn't here! She didn't even give a shit that you lost Finn…that we all did. Not even a fucking sympathy card. Puta!" she yells, slamming the flat of her palm against the table and making them all wince. Brittany inches closer and rests a hand on her wife's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but Santana is too consumed with anger to be swayed by the gentle touch. "What sewer did she even crawl out of that you tripped over her pathetic ass again?" she wants to know.

Rachel drops her pained gaze to the table top, lifting a hand to quickly brush away the tear that's escaping from the corner of her eye. "I…I saw her…completely unexpectedly…at the Jets game I sang at," she admits guiltily.

"In October!" Santana shouts.

"Rachel, why didn't you say anything?" Kurt asks at almost the same time, the hurt evident in his voice.

Rachel shakes her head helplessly, lifting her increasingly blurry eyes to Kurt. "It's…complicated…"

"Bullshit," Santana spits. "It's not complicated at all. You just say, 'hey, I ran into that bitch, Quinn Fabray.'"

"One of the Jets cheerleaders kind of looks like Quinn," Brittany suddenly interjects, looking to Rachel with questioning eyes. It catches Rachel off guard to realize that Brittany might have recognized Quinn before Rachel even knew she was living so close to all of them, but whatever Brittany sees in her expression gives her the answer she was looking for, and she breathes out a quiet, "Oh."

"Wait…you saw her?" Santana asks her wife, flabbergasted.

"I…um…I've seen some games on television," Brittany confesses, "but, like, I never could tell for sure if it was her. I mean, they don't really show the cheerleaders for very long...even though they totally should."

"Why the hell didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I know how upset you get when anyone mentions Quinn," Brittany points out before looking back to Rachel. "And how sad you always get, Rachel. Well…got, I guess, since you're dating her now, and you seemed more nervous than sad before Santana starting yelling at you. It makes me sad too that she left without saying goodbye," she admits, turning her gaze back to Santana, "but we can't force her to be our friend if she doesn't want to be, San."

"I don't want to be her damn friend," Santana growls, shrugging off Brittany's touch. "She bailed on us. Friends don't do that." Santana's angry gaze moves back to Rachel, and she points an accusatory finger in her direction. "And friends don't fucking keep this kind of information from one another for over four months!"

Rachel knows that her reason for keeping this a secret for so long isn't one that any of her friends will find acceptable right now. Santana is obviously pissed, Brittany looks heartbroken, and Kurt is hurt and angry. Blaine is the only one who looks like he might actually be open to hearing Rachel's explanation, but even he seems confused by the whole thing.

"I wanted to tell you," Rachel chokes out, battling the tears that she can feel stinging her eyes as she looks around the table at her oldest friends. "God, I wanted to so, so much, but…but I only saw her for a few minutes in October, and it left me reeling. I was angry too, Santana. I was so angry at Quinn…and hurt," she admits shakily, feeling her tears beginning to spill over her cheeks.

"I needed an explanation from her…to find out where she'd gone and why. But I didn't even have a way to contact her at first, and when I finally did manage to get in touch with her..." Rachel trails off, shaking her head as she recalls Quinn's emotional confession in that bathroom. "I ended up with even more questions," she acknowledges. "But I did find out that there was a good reason for Quinn's disappearance."

Santana huffs out an angry breath. "Oh, I'm sure she fed you some bullshit reason that you bought right into."

"Santana, please," Kurt appeals resolutely. "Let Rachel explain."

Rachel turns grateful eyes to him. "Thank you, Kurt."

His cool gaze meets hers steadily. "Oh, make no mistake. I'm not thrilled with this information either, but I want to hear all the facts before I remind you that Quinn Fabray has never done anything but cause you pain."

"That's not true," Rachel automatically defends. Logically, she knows that no one else can possibly know just how happy Quinn has made her in the last few months, but she hates how they all just assume the worst of Quinn without even listening what Rachel has to say.

"What did Quinn tell you, Rachel?" Blaine asks kindly—and okay, maybe one of them is actually listening. "Why did she lose touch?"

Santana huffs again, narrowing her eyes. "Losing touch implies it was accidental. Bitch purposely cut us out."

"San," Brittany murmurs. "You don't know that."

Taking a breath, Rachel hastily wipes at her tears. "No, Brittany. Santana's right," she admits grudgingly. "Quinn did make the decision not to contact us." She doesn't tell them—can't tell them yet—that Quinn still doesn't want any contact with anyone but Rachel for the time being.

"I fucking knew it," Santana hisses, clenching her jaw in anger. But Rachel knows her well enough after all these years to see through that to the pain she's feeling—the attempt to keep her own hurt from transforming into tears that she can't allow anyone but Brittany to see.

"She didn't do it to hurt us…or…or because she didn't care," Rachel is quick to explain. She feels sick at the thought of verbalizing this—Quinn's private struggles—but she reminds herself that Quinn had given her permission to tell them. "She…she experienced a mental break when Finn died."

"Yeah, right," Santana mutters skeptically, glaring at the wall.

"What does that mean exactly?" Kurt asks evenly.

"It means that Quinn suffers from bipolar disorder," Rachel reveals, pausing a moment to let that sink in. Santana's eyes snap up to hers, doubtful, while Brittany chews on her lip quietly, looking puzzled. Kurt stares at her blankly, but Blaine's mouth falls open in apparent understanding, though he doesn't say anything.

"Finn's death triggered an episode," Rachel continues carefully, "which kept her from being able to come back to Lima for his memorial service. But she didn't get properly diagnosed for…for a while," she supplies vaguely because she still doesn't know exactly when Quinn was finally diagnosed, "and that only made things worse for her."

"So that's it?" Santana questions into the silence. "She claims insanity, and you just forgive her for everything?"

"Quinn isn't insane," Rachel fires back heatedly. "But she does have a mental illness that she's on medication for, Santana. It's real, and you need to respect that," she demands firmly. "I…I wish I could explain it better, but I'm still learning about it myself and learning how to…how to be there for Quinn."

"Great. So it's real. She had a nervous breakdown or whatever," Santana dismisses with a shrug, refusing to acknowledge Rachel's reprimand. "Unless you want to tell me it lasted six years and kept her from using a phone, I really don't give a shit. She still fucking disappeared on us."

Rachel opens her mouth to argue, but she's stopped by Blaine. "My cousin has bipolar," he reveals, turning to Kurt. "You remember Justin, don't you?"

Kurt frowns. "Vaguely."

"It really messed him up for a long time until he got diagnosed," Blaine continues, offering a sympathetic smile to Rachel. "He'd have these manic episodes that made him do really dangerous things, like playing chicken with a train on his motorcycle. But then he'd lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone for days at a time. And he was…um…cutting himself too. He couldn't control it at all. My uncle thought he was suicidal for a long time, and he did…um…try that once before he started taking medication," Blaine finishes sadly, and Rachel feels her stomach twist into knots at the similarities to what Quinn had told her.

"Did Quinn…?" Kurt starts to ask in concern, stopping himself at Brittany's sad whimper. Even Santana appears suddenly cowed.

"She was in a really bad place," Rachel shares brokenly. "And she didn't feel like she could…or should…drag any of us into her problems." Once again, she doesn't share the fact that Quinn didn't really believe any of them would give a damn anyway. "It's taken four months for her to open up to me even just a little about that time in her life, and there's still so much that she's not ready to talk about yet. But she's getting there…slowly. That's why I haven't told you about her sooner. She wasn't comfortable with anyone else knowing and asked me to wait until she was ready."

"Of course she did," Santana mutters. "And you just do whatever she wants even though we're the ones that have been around for you this whole time."

Santana's tone is suddenly less angry and more hurt, and Rachel feels a familiar stab of guilt because—yes, in a sense, she had chosen Quinn over her friends.

"I'm so sorry. I've felt so awful keeping this from all of you."

"But your lady boner for Quinn always trumps everything else, right?" Santana needles, shaking her head. "You know, I used to think it was funny when we were kids, and then kind of sad when you finally figured out five years too late that you actually wanted to bang her. But now…Jesus, Rachel! Is your obsession with her really worth taking a ride on the crazy train?"

"She's not crazy!" Rachel snaps back angrily.

"Fine," Santana concedes, throwing up her hands. "She's not crazy, but it sure as hell sounds like she's still a complicated mess who always manages to find a new way to screw up her life. If you get involved with her, she's just gonna drag you down with her, and you shouldn't have to deal with her baggage. You deserve better than that."

Oddly enough, Rachel recognizes that, in her own backhanded way and despite her clear anger with Quinn and the entire situation, Santana is concerned about her because they are friends. It's the only thing that keeps Rachel from losing her own temper at the thoughtless insult to Quinn—and to Rachel, for that matter.

"I respectfully disagree," Rachel informs her stubbornly. "Quinn is putting her life back together beautifully, and I'm happy that she's letting me be a part of it. I really care about her, Santana. And underneath all of your anger and hurt," and, of course, Santana scoffs audibly at that, "I know you still care about her too. Yes, she made some mistakes, but I've forgiven her."

"Well, I haven't," Santana declares, loudly scraping her chair against the floor as she stands. "And I'm done with this conversation. Come on, Brittany. We're leaving," she announces, stalking toward the living room without looking back.

Brittany sighs, resignedly pushing herself up from her chair. "I'm sorry, Rachel. You know how Santana gets. She's hurt right now, so she's being all sharp and pointy," she explains sadly, walking over to Rachel and reaching out to give her shoulder a supportive squeeze. "But once her edges smooth out, I think she'll understand that you're just trying to protect someone you love."

Rachel sucks in a little breath, eyes glistening at Brittany's astute observation. "Thank you, Brittany," she says gratefully, reaching up to lay her hand over Brittany's and give it a grateful squeeze.

Brittany nods. "Can you tell Quinn…?"

"Hurry up, Britts!" Santana shouts impatiently.

"Just tell her I've missed her," Brittany urges sadly.

"Of course," Rachel agrees, wondering how Quinn could possibly believe these people don't care about her.

Brittany nods again, bending to press a quick kiss to Rachel's cheek. "Take care of her, Rachel," she whispers.

And then she's gone, heading out to join her still-upset wife. The sound of coats rustling and a whispered argument can be heard between the two women before the door slams shut, leaving the apartment in silence once again—until Kurt says, "I'm very upset with you."

Rachel already feels emotionally drained, and she's not sure she can deal with Kurt's anger and disappointment on top of Santana's right now. She's grateful that he at least waited until Santana had had her say, and she presses a trembling hand to her forehead, breathing out his name in exhaustion.

"You know Quinn Fabray has never been my favorite person," he continues unimpeded, "after everything she put poor Finn through…not to mention you." Rachel shakes her head, dropping her hand, because she'd forgiven Quinn for all of that when they'd still been in high school. Kurt holds up a hand, silently asking her to let him have his say, and she supposes she owes him that. "Her absence all these years has never particularly bothered me, but I know how hurt you were by it. So forgive me if I'm having some trouble wrapping my head around you going from that to…to dating her…in the blink of an eye."

"It didn't happen in the blink of an eye, Kurt," she corrects him tiredly.

"And that's what upsets me most," he informs her. "That you've kept this enormous secret from me for months."

"Only because Quinn asked me to."

"And you find that acceptable?" he challenges with a raised brow.

"No. Actually, I didn't," Rachel admits. She'd asked Quinn to let her tell her friends about her more than once before Quinn had finally agreed. "But I understood why she was asking, and I made the decision to respect her wishes during the delicate period when we were rebuilding our friendship and learning to trust one another again."

"But you're dating her!" Kurt exclaims, incredulous.

Despite the wringer she's just been pulled through, Rachel can't help the tiny smile that forms on her lips at the reminder that she is, in fact, dating Quinn Fabray. "That part of our relationship is a very recent development."

Kurt shakes his head as he stares at her. "Since when is Quinn Fabray even attracted to women?"

"Since always, apparently," Rachel answers, her smile growing a little wider.

Blaine shakes his head at his husband. "You know not everyone realizes their sexual preferences as early as you did," he points out.

"I'm a perfect example of that," Rachel reminds him.

Kurt purses his lips thoughtfully. "Well…a longstanding mutual attraction would explain a lot of things about your relationship with Quinn that are otherwise pretty unexplainable," he acknowledges. "But honestly, Rachel, I'm far more concerned about the bipolar thing. Honey, Santana isn't entirely wrong. Dating someone with a mental illness seems like a lot to take on, and I can't help being worried about you."

"I know, Kurt," Rachel says with a sigh. She'd known this was coming, and honestly, sometimes she worries about that too, "But I'm handling it, okay? I want this. Quinn is…she's so smart…and…God, she's still so, so gorgeous," she gushes, smiling again as she imagines Quinn's beautiful face smiling back at her in encouragement. "She takes my breath away. And not just because she's beautiful, but because she's so incredibly strong, even after being broken so many times, and knowing everything that she's been through only makes me lo…admire her more," she amends at the last moment, not wanting that particular confession to be made to anyone but Quinn. "I mean, she's going to school to finish her degree, and she's working as an editorial assistant, and she's…well…she's a professional cheerleader," Rachel ends with a blush.

Blaine grins at that. "We'll definitely need to check out a Jets game now."

"Heaven help me," Kurt murmurs, looking up to the ceiling for help despite the fact that he's still an atheist.

"I...I think I've wanted to be with Quinn for a really long time," Rachel confesses softly. "I just didn't realize it, but Fate is giving me another chance with her, and I can't ignore it. Not when she makes me feel…she makes me feel so much, Kurt. Things I haven't felt since…since Finn died."

Kurt's eyes go instantly soft. "Oh, Rachel, honey," he coos, reaching across the short expanse of table that separates them and holding out a hand that Rachel eagerly grasps onto.

"I have to see where this goes," she tells him, squeezing his hand, "even though I know there'll be challenges in being with her. Please tell me you understand."

"I…don't completely," Kurt admits with a sad smile. "But I can see how much she means to you, so I'll support you, Rachel. Just promise me that you'll be careful."

Rachel nods. "As careful as I can be." Especially when she's already falling hard.

"For what it's worth," Blaine chimes in, "my cousin has been in a pretty stable relationship for about a year now. I don't know all the details, obviously, but he's said that they just make sure to keep communicating with each other when he's going through an episode. Of course, he also says it helps that his girlfriend has the patience of a saint."

"Well, that could be trouble for you, Rachel," Kurt attempts to joke.

"Don't tease her, Kurt," Blaine chastises with a frown.

Rachel laughs a little, shaking her head. "It's okay. Being patient with Quinn has been…really hard," she admits. "But she's worth it."

"She'd better be," Kurt tells her, "because you deserve someone worthy of that Diva-sized heart of yours, Rachel Berry."

Rachel can see that Kurt is still worried about her and unconvinced that she's making the right decision, but she's grateful that he and Blaine are at least trying to understand. It seems like Brittany understands her too, but she's not sure how long it will take Santana to come around—if she comes around. Rachel only hopes Santana doesn't do anything stupid like try to track down Quinn on her own. She can't imagine Quinn would be okay with that.