Author's Note: Please read "In a Bit of a Blind" before reading this for context.

Quinn had barely settled into her seat, back turned towards the foyer (in an attempt not to continuously stare at Rachel to see where in the cafe the woman would end up sitting on her blind date) when she heard the hostess coming back.

With her date.

She still didn't know why she was here, why she'd accepted the ludicrous invitation in the first place. It was only, after all, day thirty-two AP.

Quinn sucked in a lungful of air as she mulled over her options.

It wasn't like Quinn was in need of someone setting her up or anything, but her assistant had seen how distraught she'd been when Pickwick had… moved on, and had invited her to their friend's party, despite not knowing each other too well. And then some strange woman that was definitely not sober had found the most unattached, wall-flowery person at the party (namely, Quinn) to exclaim accolades of their neighbour to. And Quinn had, for some reason, not found it in her to turn down either of the attempts at forced social interaction.

Probably because the person had sounded exactly like Quinn's type. Confident, beautiful, artistic… Rachel-esque...

There was that, though. At least, by some stroke of luck, when the blind date inevitably went sour, she could say she'd been able to bump into Rachel again.

(And it was totally obvious, from their conversation in the foyer, that Rachel hadn't been keeping tabs on the last decade-ish of Quinn's life like she had Rachel's, but how easy was it to stay updated on a Broadway starlet in New York? Rachel had a Wikipedia page with multiple credible sources, for crying out loud!)

Maybe, if she just skipped out on the blind date and dragged Rachel out of the cafe by her fluffy, undoubtedly hand-knit scarf (probably alpaca wool. She'd have to ask later), they could maybe find some (classier) pub with a decent happy hour, and catch up on all the years that had passed since they'd last been in contact (And maybe, after walking a slightly tipsy Rachel to her cushy New York apartment at the end of the night, as Rachel turned away, Quinn could build up the nerve to reach out, grasp the little colorful pom-poms at the end of the scarf, and spin the brunette into a toe-curling kiss)...

She had half a mind to do just that, actually, when cold hands, still chilly from being outside, covered her eyes, throwing her into sudden darkness. Her infamous eyebrow arched upwards as her lips curled into a smile at the familiar scent that washed over her when her blind date leaned forward, and drawled, "Howdy, Luce." Well, then.

Play it cool, Luce.

Breathe.

"Howdy? Really?" She reached up to peel Rachel's fingers from her face, pulling Rachel forward so that she was draped over Quinn's shoulder, hugging her from behind. "I was about to kidnap us both from our blind dates and take you out instead." Rachel scoffed, and Quinn turned to see her eyes twinkling in mirth.

"And leave some poor, loud, short, but awesome brunette alone in a strange, vegan-friendly cafe?" Said loud, short, but awesome brunette stood, extricating herself from their embrace, and crossed her arms, eyebrow tweaking upwards in challenge.

Quinn merely shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Tough luck, she'd have to deal with it." Rachel merely blinked twice, amused, as she slid into the seat across the table from where Quinn was seated. "Besides, I'd probably have left money for at least a coffee." The blonde paused a moment in thought. "And maybe a donut."

"How generous of you…" Rachel intoned sarcastically, nodding a thank you to the decidedly bemused hostess as she handed Rachel her menu. "She'd definitely know how much of a keeper you were if you did that. She'd definitely be distraught over what she'd missed out on, especially since you'd run off with another woman." Quinn stuck her tongue out at Rachel, chuckling, before turning to her own, untouched, menu in front of her, blushing slightly when her stomach gave a rumble.

"Hungry, are we?" Rachel smirked.

"A bit." So sue her if she was hungry. "Have you been here before?"

Rachel nodded, with a slight shrug. "I'm a bit of a regular." She flipped open her menu, eyes skimming the pages quickly as her fingers trailed down the page. "Annette always sets up her stupid drunken blind dates in this cafe. I swear she gets a cut, or she has stock in this place. Though it helps that they're pretty discreet..." Making a small affirmative noise in the back of her throat, Rachel flipped her menu over so that Quinn could read it, tapping one of the house specials. "If you're still the carnivore I suspect you are, they have an amazing mango barbecue sauce that I think you'd like, and I've never heard anything bad about their roast chicken…"

"Annette?" Quinn hummed, cocking her head to the side, eye's trained on the menu. The chicken did sound really good, especially with that sauce, but so did the blueberry waffles… but when had Rachel ever steered her wrong? Decisions, decisions...

"My drunken social butterfly of a neighbour that accosted you for this blind date."

Oh, the overly talkative hot mess. "Ah yes, her…" Quinn closed her menu. Chicken it was. "She was a delight to talk to." The thick, heavy sarcasm dripping from her words had Rachel releasing a scoff.

"Oh, do tell." Rachel leaned forward, eyes twinkling in intrigue, only to be interrupted by the waitress. Quinn smirked, amused, when Rachel ordered the vegan blueberry waffles and a remarkably particular fruit smoothie, before prattling off her own order. Some things, like Rachel's love of breakfast food, obviously hadn't changed. Rachel leaned forward again when the waitress left, apparently intent on continuing with the topic at hand. "No seriously, don't hold back. I need as much blackmail material as possible, she's got way too much on me."

"Oh?" Quinn's eyebrow rose reflexively in query, but Rachel waved her curiosity off.

"That's a story for another time, I'm desperate to hear about how drunk she was at whatever social event she found you at." Quinn merely smirked, keeping her lofty eyebrow raised. Rachel wasn't getting off the hook that easily. "Fine," Rachel shrugged. "Annette just needs to stop meddling in my perpetual singledom is all."

The waitress chose that moment to appear with their drinks and get their order. Quinn reached for her glass of water with lemon, using the straw to mash the juice from the lemon wedge into the beverage itself. The ice in the glass clinked melodically as she stirred her water. "You are aware that there's an incredibly simple solution to that problem, right?" She took a sip of her water as she watched Rachel gasp over-dramatically.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Miss Quinn Fabray!" She pointed at Quinn, smirking. "Your chickens haven't hatched yet!" Quinn chuckled, shrugging.

Not that she minded Rachel's implication either, but… Quinn put her glass down. "I only meant you could tell her to stop." Rachel scrunched up her nose disbelievingly, crossing her arms and frowning petulantly from across the table. "But anyways, I can definitely tell you about the night I met her." The mousy brown haired Annette hadn't even introduced herself, and had just sat with Quinn on the coach in the corner, badgering her until Quinn accepted the blind date, and a time and place had been chosen without much of Quinn's input, really. Quinn was surprised that Rachel's "drunken social butterfly of a neighbour" hadn't noticed that she'd only accepted the whole shebang to appease the scary drunk lady.

"I've never had the pleasure of socializing with her, so this is all quite interesting to hear about." Rachel cocked her head to the side contemplatively as Quinn assured her that there was very little pleasure involved, and that Rachel should keep it that way. "It's like she's drunkenly playing an overly convoluted game of 'Have you met Ted', isn't it?"

Quinn nodded, having to agree with her on that one. Or vying for the job of Cupid's assistant, which probably didn't pay too well... Which would explain the shares this Annette held in the cafe the two of them were sat in. Was Annette a majority shareholder? Or did she just have a handful of shares in the company? Whatever it was, considering the number of people in the establishment, Annette had to be doing well if-

"Quinn?"

Quinn snapped back into the present, turning to smile at Rachel. "Yes, dear?" She cringed inwardly; old habits died hard. Some drops of condensation from the glass had dropped onto the table, pooling into a little puddle. Quinn nervously dipped her fingers into it, drawing abstract designs onto the tabletop as an excuse for her not to look up at the brunette across the table.

Rachel's lip curled upwards in slight amusement as she folded her fingers together in front of her. "Chickens. Unhatched chickens." Quinn chuckled distractedly. "Now tell me about Annette, woman!"

"Or, as I like to call her, the obnoxiously drunk lady." Quinn winced, remembering the night she'd met Annette. "I'd been in a bit of a low mood for a while, since Pickwick had..." She swallowed, clearing her throat a little in an attempt to talk past the sudden lump in her throat, and flinched when warm fingers closed around her damp ones. Startled hazel eyes flicked over to concerned brown, before flicking away again. "Anyway, my assistant's friend's friend was having some get together and I was dragged to it. And that's where Annette was. She'd had a bit too much, which apparently happened decently often, and I saw her dance on the island in the kitchen and throw a drink onto some girl by accident..." Rachel blinked at Quinn disbelievingly. "Yeah. I mostly stayed on the couch, to be honest, so I got to watch it all. And then some guy brought her over to me, because I wasn't really chatting with anyone, and I got to babysit for the rest of the night." Rachel snorted. "But not before she basically accosted me to come here today." Which turned out to be serendipitous, but Quinn wasn't going to say that part out loud... Quinn peered back over at Rachel.

Rachel seemed amused, to say the least, but before she could open her mouth to say anything more, their food arrived, and they both tucked in with gusto.

The small talk, during the meal, basically covered the catching up Quinn had hoped for when she'd contemplated kidnapping the woman seated across from her ("what have you been doing with your life since graduation?" "Oh, you know..."), and Quinn was pleased to see that Rachel hadn't exaggerated about the flavor of the mango sauce, which complemented the roast chicken perfectly.

She said as much, and Rachel's eyes sparkled as she waggled her eyebrows playfully. "Of course I'm right, I always am!" Quinn merely rolled her eyes fondly, lips and left eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement.

When they'd settled their cheque (Rachel had insisted on paying, citing the fact that Quinn had generally paid in the past, and it would be her pleasure to start things up again on slightly more equal footing, much to Quinn's pleasure), and had stepped outside, Quinn scrawled her personal number on the back of her card. She held it out to Rachel.

"It was good seeing you again, Rachel." Rachel nodded, clutching the card tightly. "More than good... Kind of-"

"Like Fate laid a hand?"

Quinn chuckled. She'd heard that phrase used before, by a certain snarky cheerleader way back when they were teens. "Yeah. Like that."

"Well, far be it for me to deny Fate." Quinn blinked, confusedly amused, as Rachel played with her fingers nervously, looking down. "I... Wouldn't be averse to doing something like this again."

"I'd be down with that." Warmth blossomed in Quinn's chest, even as she attempted (and undoubtedly failed) at nonchalance. That was okay, though. Her smile, Quinn was sure, was only rivaled by the one beaming off of Rachel's face. "Just... Maybe without the blind part."

Rachel nodded, smiling sweetly. "Perhaps just the date part."

"I'd like that."

Fin

A/N2: Not written for Faberry Week, persay, but not only does it fit in perfectly with "Day One: Second Chances", but Faberry Week also forced me to actually finish it.