[A/N] I want to start off with a big thank you to you all for giving this story a read. I've been working on this for the past few months. As a fandom we all love to watch the episodes and imagine the Faberry we never get to see-this is how I can imagine a relationship between Rachel and Quinn evolving within the canon. Each episode from Blame it on the Alcohol on is worked in and the events of each episode will have their effects in this story. Nearly everything from the season 2 universe is as written on the show-but with Faberry as the center plot point. Fuinn and Finchel still come into play, but Faberry is the heart and soul of this piece.

Thank you for reading and I truly appreciate any feedback you could provide!

Their story begins as an accident.

They're all at Rachel's still drinking long after spin the bottle has ended. Then it's 7 minutes in Heaven. They all take turns giggling behind closed doors, and Kurt and Blaine make endless "coming out of the closet" jokes, that get funnier each time- thanks to the booze.

But then Santana hollers "Fabray and the Bearded Lady Berry!" as she spills half of her vodka cranberry down her front. Rachel's stomach flips—it could be the tequila shot she just threw back, or it could be that Brittany and Puck have already pulled her to her feet and Mercedes is ushering a hesitant Quinn into the closet and the door closes behind them.

"What an inappropriate and ridiculous pairing. I can't imagine why, out of all the guests present, our teammates would encourage Santana's insensitive suggestion that we lock ourselves and-"

"Look, could you please stop talking? This party sucked before I got locked in a closet with you and you opened your mouth an a novel fell out. So if you could just shut your mouth for the next six and a half minutes we can both say we left this horrible situation unharmed. Otherwise I make no promises.

This isn't how being alone with Quinn Fabray in a cramped, dark closet should be, but Rachel is a fool for expecting anything to go differently. There's a small part of her, a part that didn't vociferously refuse Santana's idea-that hoped this would happen from the outset of the hormone driven games of wish fulfillment. Was there even a chance that Quinn, in a moment of drunken abandon, would find herself drawn to her and behind the door of the linen closet (where Rachel's dads stored her baby blanket for Christ's sake) would press that perfect body of hers to Rachel's frilly, green "monstrosity" as Kurt called it, and lose herself in a shy, yet passionate kiss that would lead to a greater exploration of the Sapphic experience? Of course not, but Rachel can't help it-she clings to the .0001 percent chance and clings hard.

"You know, you are so pretty. People lose their minds trying to make themselves half as pretty as you are and you don't even have to try. I can see why Finn-"

"Stop it." Even in the dark Rachel can hear that Quinn is protesting through gritted teeth.

"No! No no no no no no," she slurs, "let me finish! I'm just saying if I were Finn and you were you and Finn was me and I had to choose between you guys I would pick you too."

"I guess you want me to thank you now or something."

"Well, that's the customary response to receiving a compliment."

"I don't know what you're trying to get at here, Rachel, or what you're trying to do but I swear if you keep this up you are really going to regret it. I don't know if you're trying to intimidate me or ruin my relationship with Finn or somehow make yourself seem like a bigger person by pretending to be nice to me before you inevitably stab me in the back, but whatever it is you need to cut it out."

Suddenly the closet feels too small and Quinn is entirely too close and Rachel is thankful for the darkness-it hides the color rising to her cheeks and the tears she feels pricking the corners of her eyes. Crying is not a rational or reasonable response to Quinn's diatribe. She's made harsher jokes and humiliated her in worse ways, but the alcohol is making each word Quinn spits out sting worse than usual.

"Fine, I'm sorry," she mutters. And she is-not sorry about what she said, she meant it all-but that she let herself say it at all.

Someone knocks on the door, maybe it's Mike, maybe it's Brittany, she doesn't know because when the door flies open she makes a beeline to the bar to pour herself another shot.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Quinn do the same.

By two in the morning the fourteen of them have cleaned out the Berry's liquor cabinet and Kurt, their designated driver, tells them it's time to pile into the van and go home. Brittany leads the way with Santana on her back and the house is quiet. A mess, but quiet.

But when Rachel makes her way back downstairs she sees Finn asleep on the couch.

"He's out," Quinn says dryly. "I tried to wake him up but all he did was snore-and I'm sure you know how hard it is to wake him up and it's not like I can drive or anything right now." She laughs a little, "I've never been drunk like this before. I'm so drunk that I want to have a sleepover at your house-I can't even believe how much we all drank. God!"

"Do you-do you want to stay here?" Quinn laughs even harder, even though she had made the same suggestion first. Rachel isn't sure how to take that laughter but it's contagious. She's doubled over with her hands on her knees wheezing with laughter at nothing. She realizes then that even after spending almost every day with Quinn after school in the choir room, she's only seen her laugh, truly laugh, a few times. Her teeth are so straight. So straight.

"I can't believe I'm going to say yes."

"Well, you're welcome to stay. I can get you a sleeping bag and you can stay down here with Finn if you want."

"Actually, can I sleep upstairs? Finn snores like lawnmower that has something stuck in its blades and I won't be able to sleep."

"Sure," she replies as casually as she can. Quinn needs her and that thought alone makes her heart beat faster. She wants to sleep in her room, rather than in the basement with her boyfriend and nothing turns Rachel Berry on more than being needed.

Rachel leads her upstairs and they don't even get to the light switch before Quinn trips and Rachel tries to catch her and they topple over together. They start laughing and can't stop until Quinn's lips find their way to Rachel's and Rachel kisses back hard.

They pull back at the same moment and meet each other's gaze-Quinn's eyes look hazy, maybe with desire, maybe with booze- before Rachel pulls her dress over her head and Quinn's shirt is flung to the corner of the room. Quinn rips Rachel's bra trying to get it off faster and pulls Rachel's earlobe into her mouth. She groans when Quinn's teeth bite the skin then travel down and latch onto her neck.

Within minutes they're naked with their fingers unceremoniously buried inside each other, rolling on the floor, each trying to gain leverage over the other, thrusting their bodies against each other's hands.

Rachel drags her tongue down Quinn's torso and jokes "don't worry-you still have abs" before delving down, diving deeper and gripping Quinn's thighs as she kisses her way closer to where she's dying to be. She squeals with surprise as Quinn digs her fingers in Rachel's hair and pulls her head, hard, between her legs and she moans, and god, Rachel has never been so wet in her life. She's throbbing while her tongue traces her folds. Quinn and she tastes so good. It's heady and earthy, but tart and Rachel can't get enough of the tang dancing on her tongue or the way Quinn's body is reacting to Rachel's finger insider her, pulling it in deeper and clenching it tighter.

Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the cover of darkness, but Quinn starts talking and doesn't stop.
"God Rachel yes, right there. Jesus, yes, please. Oh god I've wanted this for so long. How did you- have you done this bef-YES fuck yes! RIGHT THERE DON'T STOP OH GOD DON'T STOP RACHEL."

The sound of her name on Quinn's lips as she comes gets Rachel so close to the edge. She rocks her body against Quinn's smooth thigh and comes almost instantly, throwing her head back and letting her moan bounce off the bedroom walls as the room spins around her.

She collapses on top of Quinn with her hair brushing against her arm and across Quinn's chest. Quinn brushes it back and places a kiss on Rachel's cheek before closing her eyes with her arms wrapped around Rachel's small body.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah Rachel?" Her voice sounds far away, as if she's already sleeping.

She wants to ask if this really just happened-she doesn't believe she just had sex with Quinn Fabray. And now she's laying stark naked on her carpet, holding Rachel in her arms and Rachel refuses to believe that this happened only hours after their excruciating tete-a-tete in the linen closet. But maybe she doesn't want an answer. Maybe she just wants to live a little longer in this hazy afterglow before things get complicated. She could pull a trademark Rachel Berry and ask Quinn question after question about her feelings and how this came to be and what percentage, if any, of this decision was impacted by their inebriated state and what percentage would be considered "other". Instead:

"Should we move to the bed?"

"Yeah," Quinn says sleepily. She strokes Rachel's back, which sends chills up her spine. Can she just kiss her? "That's probably a good idea ...because floors are hard and the bed-beds are for sleeping."

"Do you need anything? Water?" Another orgasm?

"Pyjamas?" She says it like a question, like she's afraid Rachel might say no and refuse her a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. "I'd just put my underwear and shirt back on, but I think those panties might be ruined and I think you ripped my shirt."
Rachel snickers and Quinn pulls Rachel's head down to meet her lips and, yes, it's real. She can feel Quinn's teeth on her lips and she can hear little murmurs playing in the back of her throat. Rachel lets her thumb stroke the spot behind Quinn's ear.

"Rachel, Rachel Rachel Rachel..."

"I'm a total bitch," she slurs. She's still drunk-tipsy at least, so maybe they can keep pretending this will end well.

"No. You aren't," Rachel murmurs soothingly. She kisses Quinn's shoulder ands tastes the salty sweet of sweat.

"Yeah, I really am. I'm a huge bitch, especially to you. I was so mean to you in the closet and there wasn't even a reason. I'm just not a good person and I get mad too easily."

"Well, maybe you had a right to be. I don't remember exactly what I said or how I said it but I'm sure it was insensitive and-" the high is wearing off and reality starts to creep back into focus.

"No, you're great. I'm the asshole. Tell me I'm an asshole." She sounds too sincere, as if she really wants Rachel to somehow make her pay for her guilt and this is getting weird and uncomfortable. Rachel never imagined what it would be like after her imagined hook ups with Quinn, but she had assumed there would be cuddling and declarations of affection...not this.

"Quinn...let's just go to sleep."

Rachel tosses Quinn something to sleep in-she gives her a Wicked tee-shirt, her softest, and bright pink shorts and dresses herself in a tank top and flannel pants. Quinn holds out her arms, like she's a child waiting for her mother to pick her up, and Rachel pulls her to her feet. They're both a little unsteady but they manage to dress each other and crawl into Rachel's bed.

Rachel doesn't sleep at all that night. She watches Quinn's chest rise and fall with her slow, steady breath, and feels her anxiety climbing. Her head start to ache as the sky outside her window pinkens. At seven Quinn is still lightly snoring next to her and Rachel is dying for a glass of water and an aspirin. She carefully climbs out of bed and pads down the hall and fills three glasses with water and opens the jar of pills. She shakes out two for herself, two for Finn, and two for Quinn. The thought of Finn still asleep on the couch, completely unaware of what has happened makes her queasy, but she tiptoes down the basement stairs just the same and leaves the water and pills on the table. She scrawls a note letting him know that Quinn is upstairs sleeping and makes her way back to her room.

God her eyes sting and she wants to close them and drift off to sleep next to the beautiful girl in her bed but she can't stop shaking and every time she lets her lids droop she sees simultaneously Quinn's naked body spread beneath her and the look of confusion and fury on Finn's face when he inevitably discovers how this triangle managed to get even more complicated.

She must have dozed off, at least for a little while, because she opens her eyes to sunlight streaming into the room and a very naked Quinn Fabray scouting for her clothes.

"You're still here," Rachel whispers huskily. The truth is that she's delighted. Her assumption was that Quinn would sneak out as soon as she woke up and be out the door with so much as a "see you on Monday."

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm just looking for my stuff before I head out."

"It's okay. I'm a notoriously light sleeper." At that she hears Quinn let out a low, heavy breath. "Do you want anything? I could make breakfast or coffee or-"

"Rachel, my head is killing me. Just let me find my clothes and I'll get out of your hair, okay?"

"You don't have to rush, my dads won't be back until the end of the week and I don't mind the company." Once the words start coming she can't seem to hold any back. "I can get you a towel if you'd like to shower and if you need to borrow anything let me know and-"

"Please Rachel, just don't, okay?" Rachel sits up on the bed and she feels suddenly naked in her thin tank top. She wraps her arms around her bent legs and rests her head on her knees. "l'm going to leave and we never have to talk about this, or anything else, ever. We can just forget this ever happened."

Something starts boiling inside of Rachel and claws its way up her throat hot and fast and she worries she might vomit but when she opens her mouth the only thing that comes out is a sharp, loud "No."

"Excuse me?" Quinn counters with a raised eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"I said no. This isn't how this is going to work. We don't spend half the night indulging in latent carnal desires and then act like nothing's different."

"Is that what you think?" Her tone is so nasty that Rachel can barely string together a memory of the vulnerability she had heard fall from Quinn's lips that night. "Because I don't think that's up to you, Rachel, and if you're smart you'll keep your mouth closed and not leak a word of this to a soul-which I know with a mouth that size will be a challenge."

Rachel wants to point out that Quinn had no problem with the size of her mouth last night, but the moment isn't right. A joke would make things worse.

"But I have questions and I need answers! How can I just go about my life like this didn't happen? Damn it, Quinn, that was my first time and you're just going to rip it away?"

"Rachel, it doesn't count. Don't be so dramatic. We were drunk and made a mistake. Just forget it," Quinn heads for Rachel's bedroom door, and Rachel makes every effort to block the exit.

"I'm not letting you just walk out of here before we talk about this!"

"Oh yeah? Watch me." With that Quinn pushes past her and hurries down the stairs, no doubt to collect her boyfriend and speed away back to her easy relationship and forget about the moments that Rachel is sure will stay with her forever.