disclaimer: despite all my efforts, i remain sadly glee-less.

dedicated to: chi (unwrite), because she ships all the best pairings (for the most part) and watches the best tv shows (glee excepted) and can get me addicted to the stupidest ships (i will never forgive you for hudrose – or jeffannie). also, it was her birthday on the 3rd so happy belated birthday!

notes: this is basically a rewrite of my unfinished drabble collection Parisian Lights. highly au (basically, i wanted st. fabray and also a reason for quinn not to go crazy in senior year because what even was that), you can just pretend that the shelby/beth plotline progresses sensibly with all characters remaining sane. also, this gets stupidly fluffy near the end. don't say i didn't warn you.

Paris in the summertime is something out of a storybook, she thinks. There are flowers, there is romance, and there are croissants, and there's not much more she could ask for from a city. She doesn't hate Lima as much as she pretends, but Paris is like another world entirely – a place to be free.

"Quinn, darling, William and I are going out to the cinema!" calls her mother through the door that connects their hotel bedrooms, interrupting Quinn from her people-watching through the window. "You have money for dinner, right?"

She looks up in time to see Judy Fabray emerge from her bedroom looking like a Glamour model in her purple silk dress and the crystals in her hair. Quinn feels a smile cross her face involuntarily – it's been a long time since she's seen her mother so happy.

"Yeah, I do, Mom," she says, getting off her bed and walking over to hug her mom. "You look great."

Judy nearly squeezes the breath out of her. "Oh, I will. I'm so glad you like William, sweetheart, because he was really worri—"

"Mom," Quinn laughs, pulling away to smile at her mother, "he took us to Paris just to make you happy. Of course I like him! Now go have fun, okay?"

"Oh, okay," beams Judy, stepping past her towards the door. "Don't just stay in here working on college apps all day, though! Promise me you'll go out for dinner and meet some people."

Quinn sighs, walking over to hold the door open for her. "I promise," she agrees, smiling despite her exasperation. "I can't promise to like them, though."

"That's fine," Judy chuckles, smoothing back Quinn's hair. "Love you, darling."

"Love you, too, Mom," she calls before her mother walks out, closing the door behind her. With another sigh, she walks over to the window again, pushing the curtains further apart. It's almost evening, and the whole city sparkles in the twilight, full of laughter, full of stories.

Maybe dinner in the city of love wouldn't be so bad.

:::

Jesse St. James is the first sign of trouble. The smirk on his face is the second.

"Why, hello, Miss Fabray," he says from behind her in the café's queue, making her just about jump out of her skin. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"I – you – what?" she splutters rather eloquently, wheeling around in her spot to stare at him in disbelief. She almost doesn't recognize him without Rachel at his side, though he looks unimaginably handsome – not that she'd ever voice that thought out loud.

"Charming," Jesse grins, and Quinn starts to seriously question Rachel's taste in boyfriends. "You do remember me, I hope?"

"Hard to forget," she snaps, turning her back to him. She'd come here for a sandwich, not a lesson in how to be completely infuriating.

"I'm flattered," he says, clearly still smirking from his tone of voice. Quinn huffs and steps forward in the line. "May I ask what you're doing out here in Paris all alone?"

"No."

"Pleasant as always. May I join you for lunch?"

"No."

"I always did admire your stubbornness, Quinn."

"The answer's still no."

:::

For some reason, he sits down across the booth from her anyway.

"Can I help you?" she demands, setting down her sandwich with an annoyed sigh. Jesse smiles cheerfully at her, as if the fact that he's sitting in a café in Paris with her is completely normal.

"Not really," he informs her, making her roll her eyes. "I was just marveling at the coincidence of running into a member of New Directions out here in another continent. Though, I suppose, it makes sense that it'd be you."

Quinn stares at him for a moment, bewildered. "What does that mean?" she asks finally, her curiosity winning out over her desire to ignore him until he leaves.

Jesse smirks and settles back in his seat as if she'd extended an invitation to stay. "I just meant that, out of all of them, you're the one I'd expect to see in Paris. The pretty, popular queen bee, and all."

She rolls her eyes and aims her fork at him. He looks at least a bit startled, which is gratifying. "Look, as thrilled that I am that you're so keen on having a conversation with me, I'm really not interested. Every time you get involved with Glee club, you end up completely screwing most of us over."

"I'm not getting involved in Glee club," he points out, looking at her curiously. "We're a whole ocean away from Glee club, Quinn. I'm just talking to you."

Quinn sighs, sets down the fork, and picks up her sandwich again. She takes a slow bite, watching him carefully. He sips at his glass of lemonade calmly, returning her gaze with ease. The silence stretches for several moments.

Finally, she gives in. "Why?"

"I don't really know," he says, sounding almost sincere as he plays with the lemon wedge on his glass. "You're pretty," he offers as if it's an explanation. It's about the only explanation she tends to get from boys.

"This is about Rachel," Quinn guesses, and the look in his eyes proves her correct. "I guess it figures that Lima's dramas would follow me here."

Jesse meets her eyes, looking less than totally put-together for the first time since she saw him in the café line. "You can leave Ohio," he says, raising his glass in a pseudo-toast, "but Ohio will never leave you."

:::

The evening grows misty with nighttime the longer she stays in the café, but Jesse St. James is oddly compelling, and though she hates to admit it, he understands how she feels.

"The hero always gets the girl," he tells her with a smile full of bitterness. "Though it is surprising that you're not the girl in question."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Please. When is the female lead ever the popular cheerleader? We're always the villains who stand in the way of the perfect fairytale romance."

"Indeed," he says, inclining his head. "And I suppose I would be the bad boy who poses yet another obstacle to our young star-crossed couple."

She almost smiles. "You're a lot of things, St. James, but I wouldn't put bad boy at the top of the list."

"Hm, no, I suppose that dubious honor would go to the father of your child," he agrees, smirking when she shoots him a glare. "Indulge me, then – what would you put at the top of the list?"

"I don't know, a freak with bad taste in girls?"

"You wound me."

"You'll live."

:::

"Can I walk you back to your hotel?" he asks as they leave the café, and he sounds so earnest, she almost forgets her barriers and agrees.

"Why?" she asks instead, the word leaving her lips at the last second, spinning to face him once they're out on the almost-empty sidewalk beneath the glow of a streetlamp and the stars. She wonders how they look to the people passing by – a girl and a boy alone in the city of love. It's almost like one of those stupid movies she'd force Finn to watch with her all the time, except it absolutely is not.

Jesse shoves his hands in his pocket and shrugs. "I don't know, Quinn. You tell me. We're here, in Paris, a world away from Ohio, but we still can't leave the demons of Lima behind, can we? I can't just let you go in the night when you're my last link to Rachel – "

"Why do you still care about her so much?" she demands, honestly curious, crossing her arms. "She's chosen Finn over you. Last I heard, they're very happy together. Santana says they're so sickeningly cute it makes her want to throw up. And it's not like Rachel and I are friends, anyway."

He raises an eyebrow, looking far too amused for her liking. "You sound almost as bitter as I feel."

She rolls her eyes and begins walking towards her hotel across the street. "Well, we make quite the pair of scorned lovers, I'll give you that."

He follows her, staying silent for the length of the walk. His presence is comforting, in a weird way. She's spent two weeks in Paris, immersing herself in the wonders of the city and in college applications at the hotel, fighting as hard as she can to forget Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry and everything in between. And here is the one other person who had his heart broken by the kiss of show choir legend, too.

"Why are you here in Paris?" she asks as they approach her hotel. "You never gave me an answer."

He sends her a sidelong glance that she catches right before they round the corner. "I don't really have a reason," he admits. "I'm visiting friends. I'm on vacation. I'm trying to get away from high school – from Ohio."

She manages a smile. "That's quite the task."

"It's not impossible," he insists, though he sounds like he's speaking more to himself than her.

Quinn sighs and walks towards the front door, leaving him on the sidewalk. "I guess we'll see."

"I guess we will," he says, and she can feel his gaze still on her back as she steps through the door. When she looks back, he's smiling at her. "See you around, Quinn."

"Yeah, I – " Quinn pauses, biting her lip. "See you around."

Jesse shoots her a smile and turns to walk away, disappearing into the streets of Paris just as the moon begins to shine.

:::

"Who was that boy you were talking with?" asks her mother almost immediately after her entrance into the hotel room. Quinn jumps, feeling rather tired of being surprised by seeing people, and looks over at where Judy and William were standing in the connecting doorway, smiling knowingly at her.

She groans and drops back down onto her bed. "Mom, it was Jesse St. James. Rachel's ex-boyfriend. Remember, he helped Mr. Schue run Glee club for a while last year."

"Oh, yes, I remember him," Judy says, laughing as she and William move into her room. "You didn't mention he was so handsome."

"Because he's not!" Quinn says, scowling at her mother. Judy raises her eyebrows, and Quinn sighs. "Okay, a little. Don't get any ideas," she adds warningly.

"He seemed rather interested," William says diplomatically before Judy can reply. "Though I suppose you wouldn't date a friend's ex-boyfriend?"

Quinn scoffs. "Rachel's not my friend."

"You know, Quinn," says her mother, sighing long-sufferingly as she sits down on the bed, "it's your senior year. Have you thought about maybe letting go of the past?"

"I'm trying," she insists. "I thought you wanted me to enjoy Paris, though?"

"And did you enjoy yourself today with Jesse?" asks William.

Quinn opens her mouth to deny it, but stops herself. "I – well… maybe a little," she admits reluctantly. Their chat in the café had been… enlightening, at the very least. She might have even laughed a few times.

"That's all that matters, isn't it?" Judy says with a smile, patting Quinn on the knee before getting up to leave. "Sweet dreams, darling."

"Good night," Quinn calls to their retreating backs, her voice faraway and her thoughts somewhere between the café across the street and the halls of McKinley all the way back home.

:::

She finds him in the park two days later, playing with two little children, a boy and a girl. Her mother smiles at her and nudges her forward before walking off hand-in-hand with William, leaving Quinn to walk gingerly over towards Jesse, her hands playing with the tassles on her scarf.

"Quinn," he says in surprise upon noticing her. The little girl, who looks to be about six years old, clambers onto his lap and looks up at her, blinking curiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just touring," she says airily, gesturing towards her mother and William. "That's my mom and her new boyfriend over there. What are you doing here?"

He smiles wryly. "Babysitting. The friends I'm visiting, well… they really needed some alone time."

The little boy chooses that moment to tug on his sister's – well, Quinn assumes they're siblings because they have the same red hair and freckles – pigtails, inciting a shriek and earning a shove from her. Jesse sighs, watching them chase each other around in circles.

"They do seem like quite a handful," she says, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. "It's sweet of you to do this, though."

He looks over at her, smiling almost warmly. "I'd say thanks, but they're paying me," he admits, and this time, she actually laughs out loud. "Join me?" he suggests, motioning towards the empty space on his bench.

Quinn sits down primly, folding her hands in her lap. "It's a beautiful day," she says for lack of anything better to say.

Jesse quirks an eyebrow. "We're not really going to talk about the weather, are we?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

He grins cheekily at her. "I think we should sing about our feelings."

"I think we'd be laughed out of the park."

"You have no imagination."

"You have no sense of normal social behavior."

"…Are we going to sing or what?"

:::

They don't sing, but the afternoon melts away in a flurry of conversation about show choir and her hair and his hair (he really liked talking about his hair) and college and why little children felt the need to scream so loudly.

She might not ever say it out loud, but she actually enjoys listening to his absurdly self-satisfied point of view on everything from Broadway to politics. He's amusing, in a way most of McKinley's population isn't, and his sense of humor manages to surprise giggles out of her more often that she cares to admit.

"Do you miss him?" he asks after a lull in their conversation as they watch the children playing tag. Bria and Mason, he's informed her, children of old family friends whose house he's staying in this summer.

"Miss who?" she asks, so relaxed in her seat that she doesn't take the time to connect the dots from him to Finn. Jesse looks over at her with a slight smile devoid of humor.

"Finn," he says simply, and she sits up straight in her seat.

"You mean like now, or…?"

"In general."

She stays quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Her relationship with Finn had been the cherry on the cake of her life in sophomore year, being head cheerleader and dating the popular football jock. And last year, it had been something new, something different, something it hadn't been before.

Last year, it had been her he'd wanted, despite all the obstacles. Her, not Rachel, and it had felt better than anything at the time.

"I miss…" she sighs, choosing her words carefully. Jesse watches her expectantly. "I miss what we used to be. But I think we're both happier apart."

"Hm," he says noncommitally. Quinn settles back , waiting. He has to crack eventually.

Sure enough – "You think Rachel's happy with him?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Rachel thinks he's the love of her life. Of course she is."

"She used to say that about me," he says wistfully, but he doesn't sound upset, which she thinks is a step up.

"And Finn used to say we'd be together till the end of high school," she says, curling her fingers into a fist around the fabric of her sundress and trying not to think of everything that had gone wrong. "Things change."

"That they do," Jesse muses, and his arm settles around the back of the bench, unnecessarily close to her shoulders, but she doesn't really mind.

:::

OMG, Rachel is completely freaking out because St. James posted a picture of you on Facebook! What's happening in Paris, Q? Why didn't you tell us you met him?!

OMG, calm down! We just happened to run into each other, that's all. Nothing's happening. Tell Rachel to stop being silly. She has a boyfriend, anyway.

Bitter, much?

Shut up, Santana.

Tell me, though – is his hair still ridiculous?

Of course it is.

You were smiling in the picture, you know.

That's what people tend to do in pictures.

…How often have you seen him?

Four times, okay? Shut up.

You don't like him do you?

Me? Jesse St. James? He wishes.

Britt thinks he likes you.

Britt also thinks dolphins are gay sharks.

No, listen, she thinks he likes you because literally the only other girl he's posted a photo of that's not a group photo of Vocal Adrenaline is Rachel. And we know he used to like her…

I don't see your point.

Oh, come off it, Q. He's handsome, he's available, and you're in the city of love, for God's sake!

I'm going to stop texting you.

Don't do anything I wouldn't!

You'd do everything.

That is very true. Miss ya.

Miss you, too.

:::

"When are you headed back to Lima?" he asks her the fifth time they see each other, this time in a fancy seafood restaurant they're both eating at with their respective households. He's seated directly behind her , but his chair is shifted so they can talk properly.

"Next week," she says, taking a sip of her iced tea and studiously ignoring the smiles Judy and William are sending her. "You?"

Jesse looks over at her mother, noticing the looks for the first time, and flashes his most charming smile. Quinn rolls her eyes. That was exactly how Finn had dazzled her parents the first time they met. Of course, he'd been a bit more bumbling about it, all those years ago.

"In two weeks," he replies. "Are you free tomorrow?" Though his voice is casual, his fingers are tense as they rip up his straw wrapper.

She sends him a sidelong look, unsure how to take the question. "Um, yeah, why?"

"There's this play at the cinema and… I hear it's pretty good," he says nonchalantly, shrugging. "Do you want to go see it with me?"

Quinn bites her lip to hide a smile of amusement. "Jesse… are you asking me out?"

"Only if you say yes," he replies promptly, and she laughs.

"What if I said no?" she challenges.

"I'd serenade you with a passive-aggressive song, probably."

"In that case, yes."

His grin is insufferable, but she smiles anyway. "I knew I'd win you over."

"Oh, shut up."

:::

The play is really very good, an original put on by a small theatre company based in Paris whose name Quinn can't pronounce despite being fluent in French. She's pretty sure there was a shy but beautiful ingenue involved, as well as a dashing, dark-haired prince, and a star-crossed romance between them, but if she's being honest, she spent most of the play being hyper-aware of Jesse's arm brushing against hers.

"What did you think?" he asks her casually when they step out, his hands in his pockets and breezes ruffling his hair. Quinn glances sidelong at him, fighting a smile at the sight. She wants to tell herself that it's just the Parisian atmosphere, except maybe it isn't and maybe it's him.

"It was lovely," she says after a pause, having forgotten for a moment that he'd asked her a question. She's not entirely sure how that happened; it's unlike her to get tongue-tied over a boy, but then he smiles at her and she feels the faint stirrings of butterflies inside her.

"Thank you," she adds, and Jesse nudges her shoulder with his own, a grin on his face that is stupidly charming and so unlike his usual arrogant smirk. "I had a great time tonight."

"Quinn," he says suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and drawing her aside. "You don't have to act like this was a proper date."

She blinks at him. "I don't?"

Jesse sighs, leaning against the ivy-covered wall of a closed bakery. "I'm glad you had fun, Quinn. But let's face it, as much as I – I mean, you're beautiful. And I like spending time with you. But we … we're not – "

"No," she agrees, "we're not."

And before she can change her mind, she reaches out, sliding her hands up his arms, and presses a kiss to his cheek. Jesse freezes, and when she pulls away, he's staring at her, looking stunned. It's an unusually adorable expression on him.

"I'll see you around," she smiles at him, more than slightly satisfied that at least she still has flirting skills in tact, and walks off, wondering if that was actually a grin she saw on his face before she left.

:::

Their first kiss happens on a Tuesday, in the windy park with no particular clichés – there's no rain, no fireworks, no Eiffel Tower in the background. He's Jesse, and she's Quinn, and it's Paris, so she takes the chance anyway.

(He tastes like hazelnut latte, and she wonders how Rachel could have ever let him go.)

:::

"Summer romance," he suggests the day she leaves in the lobby of her hotel while she's waiting for her mom and William to finish packing. She feels like she's in a movie, all dressed up in her favorite purple coat with a neatly-packed suitcase at her side and her handsome not-so-French lover in front of her.

"Exactly," she agrees, and then she smiles and he smiles back, genuinely. "I'll miss you."

"Might see me at Nationals," he tells her with a wink, running a hand through his curls.

"You think we'll make it?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, running your Glee club did show me how well your little group of misfits works together. If any underdog team could make it, it's yours."

"I'll pass on the compliments."

He grins, and then his eyes soften. "You know, Quinn … being here, with you – I kind of forgot about Rachel."

She thinks her smile could substitute for the sun. "Well, we're not in Lima," she offers, stepping closer. "I think it's time to leave the past behind."

"I think you're right," he agrees, and then his lips are on hers again and the glittering lights of the hotel lobby fade from her vision for one glorious moment where nothing exists except Jesse and the memories of Paris.

"Quinn," he says when he pulls back, taking her hands in his and intertwining their fingers. "You are going to be amazing."

She takes a breath and smiles. "I know," she says, and she means it, and then she kisses him again because right here, in Paris, she can do anything in the world. On the plane, she'll set to work on her Ivy League applications, and soon, she'll be back in Lima where nothing matters except the music.

"And one day, I'll see you again," he murmurs against her lips. "And you'll have everything you ever wanted."

"Including you?" she asks quietly, her fingers trailing down his shoulders to play with the buttons of his jacket.

"If you want me."

She doesn't bother with the cheesy declarations of love. Romances come and go, but these are the moments that'll stay with her forever. So she kisses him again and thinks that maybe they'll end up together and maybe they won't, and maybe in the end it doesn't matter. Today is still theirs.

:::

At Nationals, he's wearing too much hair gel yet he still looks handsome in the chandelier lights, and it takes her a moment, but she finds the courage Glee club has instilled in her and walks up to him despite feeling the stares of her friends on her back.

"I got into Yale," is the first thing out of her mouth when he turns to face her. Quinn half-wishes it had been something sweeter, more romantic, but they're not in a movie, and he smiles anyway.

"I hope you don't expect me to be surprised," he says lightly, and then he sweeps her into his arms for a hug, which is about as platonic as it gets with him. She can still hear the rest of the club start to grumble somewhere in the distance, but she's finding it hard to care.

"Thank you," she tells him sincerely when he pulls back. "For last summer. For everything."

"I think I should be thanking you," he says, leaning his forehead on hers. His breath is sweet – caramel instead of hazelnut, probably because he's picky about his hazelnut lattes. "Your club's Golden Couple is staring."

Quinn laughs. "Who cares?" And then she kisses him like the world's stopped spinning, even though she's pretty sure Finn and Rachel are already planning to sit her down for a talk about how she's going to Yale and what is she doing with Jesse St. James when she's going to Yale and what even happened last summer anyway, Quinn?

"So, this summer," Jesse whispers after they break for air, "I was thinking Venice?"

She smiles and says, "Only if you take me on a gondola."

"Deal."

He kisses her again, and this time he only stops when the show begins.

a/n: I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE FLUFF OKAY. please review if you read it, i'd really appreciate the feedback, thank you!

and DON'T favorite without reviewing, please and thank you.