These strange steps

33

Her hair goes, two days after she's back.

She feels strangely naked, when she snaps a quick picture to send to Quinn later that night, and within ten minutes is then actually naked-probably because that's the only logical way to respond to Quinn's breathy, "I can still pull on it, and fuck, look at your neck-I'm going to be all over it the next time we see each other, Rachel. Better buy some turtlenecks."

It's hard to say what she gets off on; the part where the idea of Quinn marking her is making her blood feel like magma, or the part where Quinn very casually drops that whole next time thing.

Maybe it's just the fact that Quinn somewhat mockingly says, "Yeah, you like that; you're going to come in a second, aren't you?", and-damn it, then she actually does.

Her hand is tired, unexpectedly cramping up, and she laughs when she realizes it's more because of her keyboard playing than because of what they've been doing. She curls it up on her chest afterwards anyway-limply-and then says, "How's Amelia settling in?"

"Talk about a total change of subject; I mean, responsive as your-you-know-what is... imagine the polar opposite in my cat, if you will," Quinn says, with a deep sigh.

Rachel smiles. "You'll win her over."

"Yeah? You think?"

"Well, you won me over," Rachel says, and Quinn sort of chuckles and sighs at the same time.

"Bewitched or Buffy?"

"Neither, actually. I have-some lyrics I'd like your thoughts on, if that's okay," Rachel says, after a moment.

Quinn audibly perks up at that and says, "Of course; I mean, I can't promise I'll be helpful but I'll definitely aim for constructive. Are these-about me again, or..."

"In a way, but they're much more generically about-what it's like to be high on something, and knowing you have to give it up."

"So, Xanax," Quinn says, softly.

"Yeah, but-the summer was a high on its own, really," Rachel admits, and then hits send on her email. "I'm not sure if there's something for you to relate to here, but-"

"What did you think dancing was for me?" Quinn says, and then her voice takes on that distracted, academic tone of voice that makes Rachel horny all over again. "I like the meter of this-I mean, it's slow, right? When I read this I just picture this... drippy R&B crooner but-with acoustic guitar in it?"

"Yeah; like, the Weeknd meets ... Mazzy Star," Rachel says, after a second. "That's how I picture it, but Puck's still sorting out how much beat we even want in this."

"Do something slow-like a pulse, but dying," Quinn says, after a moment.

"That's ... you're so morbid sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I did spend the entire summer looking at corpses," Quinn says, before making a small noise. "I-this is really good, Rachel. I mean, lyrics come to life when you sing them, but even then there's just something about that chorus that's-"

"Yeah, there is, isn't there," Rachel says, and wonders if it's all right to admit now that she wasn't all that far off from begging Quinn to do exactly that-no, please, you've got to let me come down for a while-over the summer, or if it even matters.

"Your heart's bigger than your brain," Quinn finally notes. "It shows here."

"Thanks, I really-hey!" Rachel says, and then they both laugh. "Well, I didn't do much to prove you wrong there."