She's nervous.

She glances around the room at all their old friends - at Puck and at Finn and at Santana, who catches her eye and lets the corners of her mouth twitch up in the subtlest of smiles before glancing over at Brittany, who's chatting animatedly with Mike - until her eyes finally settle on Rachel. Rachel, wide smiled and laughing at something Kurt is saying, her small frame shaking so hard with laughter she has to grab Mercedes' knee for support with one hand as she presses another to her heaving chest, trying to catch her breath. Rachel, whose heaving chest had been doing so under Quinn's lips not six hours before, sweaty and hot and tangled up in hotel sheets and so close-

"Quinn?"

Rachel, who she knows she'll leave with hand in hand later tonight as they walk to their rental car parked next to Sam's along the curb, exchanging a quick kiss once they're inside and pulling apart only to join hands over the gear shift as Quinn puts the car in drive and heads off not in the direction of their hotel, but towards the park, where that little box weighing down her pocket will finally-

"Quinn."

Rachel, who's insistently tugging on the hem of her dress, jerking Quinn out of her reverie. "Mm?"

"Quinn," and Rachel's still beaming, turning that 1000-watt smile on her now, at her, and resistance is futile, "we're all going sing now, baby!"

And she's so excited and that smile's so bright that Quinn don't even care how stupid it sounds, and she don't even care that they're not in high school anymore, and she doesn't even care that the only times she really sings anymore are in the shower or in the car with Rachel, and the only thing she really does care about is just that: Rachel.

So when Puck settles his guitar on his lap and Kurt adjusts the lay of his bangs on his forehead and Santana's rolling her eyes, Quinn shoots her a glare - although a calming hand from Brittany on Santana's knee has already done the job - and then they're singing and it doesn't matter anymore that Artie's a journalist now, or that Tina works in the fashion industry. It doesn't matter that they're strewn all over the country and that they're adults with their own lives and their own families, or that most of them probably haven't sang like this since high school. It doesn't matter because it's Christmas and they're home and they're together, and as Rachel's voice takes the lead into the chorus of "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," Quinn feels thin fingers entwine themselves with hers and she can't help but smile a 1000-watt smile, too.

But it doesn't last, because they're in the car leaving Burt and Carole's and Rachel doesn't take her hand over the gear shift and she's staring out the window and Quinn's panicking because that little box is burning a hole in her pocket and she doesn't know what she's done wrong. "Rach?"

No reply.

Quinn lets a few more moments pass. "Babe?"

Rachel, deeply engrossed in the stars she's drawing in the condensation on the window, doesn't respond.

"Rachel!"

Rachel's fingers fall from the window and she wipes them on the seat of the car as she turns calmly to face Quinn. "Yes?"

"Are you going to tell me what I did?"

Rachel sniffs.

"That's hardly an appropriate answer, Rach."

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"I'm revoking your pet name privileges until further notice."

"Rachel, don't be stupid, I've been calling you that for years now, and I'm not going to-"

But Rachel's gone back to drawing on the window.

So Quinn drags the steering wheel to the right, both successfully pulling the car over and forcing Rachel's finger to jerk and veer off straight through one of the stars.

Rachel gasps. "Quinn!"

"Look at me, Rachel."

"Not until you apologize for ungraciously ruining my-"

"Rachel."

Rachel stops, and, setting her jaw in a pout, turns to Quinn.

"Don't look at me like that."

Rachel sighs then, face softening, and eyes darting down to watch her hands play with a loose thread on her dress.

"Babe?" Rachel doesn't correct her, so Quinn presses on. "Babe, what's wrong?"

Rachel's quiet for a moment, then "you didn't sing a Christmas song for me, tonight, Quinn."

Quinn blinks. "What?"

Rachel shifts in her seat, and Quinn sees in her posture not Rachel Berry: Broadway Baby, but Rachel Berry, the scared sophomore she fell in love with. "I just..." Rachel's quiet for a minute, and then wets her lips, "I just thought maybe you would express the joy you feel because we're together in a more festive way-"

"I kissed you under the mistletoe!"

"Everyone kissed someone under the mistletoe, Quinn, Kurt kissed Santana, I hardly think-" Quinn's taken her hand now, and she glances down at it, stopping. "I just wished you would've sang me a Christmas song," she whispers.

Leave it to Rachel Berry, Quinn thinks, to throw a wrench in her plans - the one time Quinn's actually the one making them - on Christmas Eve. "Look, Rach-"

"Can we just go?" Rachel's looking out the window again. "Snow's starting to fall and I don't want to get marooned on some road in Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio."

Quinn sighs and starts up the car, pulling back on to the road. They can probably still get to the park in time, she's thinking, when-

"Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd go to the park, since-"

"I want to go back to the hotel."

"Rach, let's just go to the park just for a few minutes. Look, it's beautiful out, it's snowing, and it's our place-"

"If you don't turn around and start driving back to the hotel now, I'm going to jump out of this car and start walking."

This time Quinn doesn't bother pulling over, and it's probably a good thing it's snowing because no one else is on the road when she stops in the middle of it. "Why are you acting like this, Rachel?"

Rachel blinks and her brown eyes waver a bit and Quinn knows her voice is maybe a little too loud but she's upset and Rachel's ruining her plans and oh my God, Rachel's crying now and Quinn doesn't know what to do and-

"...and I even told Noah to be prepared to accompany you and then all you did was sway in the background like some prop instead of serenading me and so I'm sorry if I'm a little upset when now you seem insistent on dragging me around in the frigid cold on Christmas Eve!"

"I was going to ask you to marry me, Rachel!" And suddenly that little box is lying out there exposed in the palm of her hand and everything is quiet and this is sonot how she'd planned on doing it, but it's too late now and Rachel's just staring wide-eyed at that little box and at Quinn and at the box again and it really can't get much worse, can it? Except apparently it can, because now she's singing "All I Want For Christmas is You" a cappella and Rachel's just staring at her and now she's really messed it up but suddenly Rachel's grabbing her face and kissing her and are those tears?

There's a loud honking then, and the two of them jerk apart to see Santana's silver BMW swerve around and speed past them, Brittany hanging out the window, grinning and waving jovially back at them.

Laughing, they turn back to each other, faces a melange of tears and smiles and Rachel leans forward, lighting her forehead against Quinn's, and, nose brushing against hers, kisses her one more time. "Yes," she breathes against Quinn's lips, "yes yes yes yes yes."

And then they're back at the hotel, sweaty and hot and tangled up in the sheets and so close, and Rachel's easing her legs open and a tan hand, ring sparkling onthat finger, snakes up over a hipbone to take Quinn's, squeezing it, and Rachel's whispering "but what are you doing New Years' Eve?" and her mouth is right thereand Quinn moans.

Quinn moans, and Rachel stops, propping her chin up on one of Quinn's thighs. "Look who's finally awake."

Quinn stretches, taking care to avoid possibly kicking Rachel, and yawns. "Mm. Morning."

"Morning, baby." And with that, Rachel ducks her head back down to kiss the inside of Quinn's thigh, nipping lightly before lazily soothing the red spot with her tongue as her right hand slips up to steady Quinn's already jerking hips. "Good dreams?" She murmurs into her wife's skin.

Quinn wants to answer, wants to tell Rachel she was dreaming about the night she agreed to marry her, but she's lost for words as her head tips back and a hand tangles itself in Rachel's hair and Rachel smiles, humming into Quinn's folds.

But all too soon, Quinn's eyes snap open and she's jumping up, nearly breaking Rachel's nose. "Antoinette!"

Rachel furrows her brows, rubbing Quinn's thigh reassuringly. "Quinn-"

But Quinn's already grabbed her robe off the door and made her way into the hallway.

Rachel rolls her eyes and slides off the bed, not bothering to grab her robe, and, catching up to Quinn in the hallway, slides an arm around her waist, a hand slipping underneath her robe to rest on her stomach. "Quinn, baby, it's our 'us' day, remember? I marked it on the calendar over a month ago. Toni's sitter already came to pick her up," Rachel feels Quinn relax against her, and, pressing against her stomach a little as she rises up onto her toes, whispers, "so let's go back to bed."

Quinn's robe floats to the ground, and, as Rachel pulls her back to their bedroom, is quickly forgotten.

They'd planned an "us" day two months ago, when, after a particularly grueling day where Antoinette's sitter had called in sick, Quinn had been forced to take her into the office in the morning, where the near two year-old had insisted on telling all of Quinn's clients "no" until she was finally allowed to play with her blocks in the corner. Rachel had then assumed responsibility of Toni in the afternoon when Quinn was at the courthouse, taking the little girl to the theater with her. That was the day the house manager had decided no children under the age of six would be granted admittance.

Even when their daughter was in daycare or with a sitter during the day, Rachel and Quinn had hardly had time for each other: Quinn was always working on some case, while Rachel, when she wasn't at the theater, was nose-deep in a script, marking beats and scribbling out objectives. And, once the two got home, it was always their time to spend with their daughter, and by the time she was in bed, both were too exhausted to do anything else.

Hannukah had only cemented the idea: they hadn't even tried celebrating Hanukkah or Christmas Antoinette's first year, and they were starting to wish that now, when she was almost two, they'd skipped out on the festivities again. The third night, Antoinette had knocked over the candles, and on the fourth, she'd knocked over the Menorah on the mantelpiece, which had, in turn, knocked over Rachel's Drama Desk Award, and that had been the end of that.

And now, finally, their "us" day was here, and here Rachel was, crawling back up Quinn's sated figure and into her waiting arms, nuzzling her face into Quinn's neck as Quinn closes her eyes and she's just drifting off when the familiar weight on her body is suddenly gone, replaced with cold air as Rachel makes her way over to their closet.

"Babe?"

A pair of leggings sails through the air to land on Quinn's head and Rachel busies herself pulling on a pair of tights, pausing to glance over at Quinn. "Quinn, you can't possibly imagine I'd plan on spending the entirety of our 'us' day in bed, can you?"

"I had, actually," is at the tip of Quinn's tongue, but instead she just sits up, running a hand through her hair. "Where, pray tell, do you plan on spending our 'us' day then?"

Rachel's face is eclipsed by the red dress she's pulling over her head, and when Quinn can finally see it again, Rachel's beaming. "Bryant Park!"

Quinn narrows her eyes suspiciously at Rachel, sliding out of bed. "Doing what at Bryant Park?"

Rachel bites her lip.

"Rachel. What are you planning on us doing at Bryant Park?"

She reaches down to zip up her boots and Quinn hears a mumbled "ice skating" before Rachel pops back up again, meeting Quinn's quirked eyebrow. "I know you don't like it, Quinn," she adds quickly, "but I implore you. It's a traditional activity for couples to do during the holidays, and seeing as it's Christmas Eve day, I feel it would be very-"

She's cut off as Quinn, reaching behind her to clasp her bra, bumps her hip lightly against Rachel's. "You're lucky I like you so much, Berry. I would love to go ice skating with you. But only so long as you catch me when I fall."

"I don't see why you insist on using my maiden name, Quinn, when I've so willingly taken yours, but I will gladly overlook that because you're so willing to go ice skating with me." Rachel finishes tying her scarf with a flurry, tucking the loose ends into her coat, as Quinn finishes buttoning up her jacket.

Quinn smiles, holding out an arm for Rachel to take. "Only because I want to hold your hand."

Rachel's nervous.

She's nervous and wringing her hands and pacing back and forth, glancing from her boots to Quinn, who's sitting on the examination table, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, hazel eyes all but drilling a hole into Rachel's head.

To say it was Rachel's fault would be wrong. Rachel hadn't meant to attempt a triple pirouette on the ice (well, okay, she had), and Rachel hadn't meant to do so directly towards Quinn (and okay, she'd meant to do that, too). But what she really hadn't meant to do was fall directly on top of Quinn - she'd only meant to fall into Quinn's arms, and that was Quinn's own fault if she hadn't been prepared - and she certainly hadn't meant for Quinn to try and keep Rachel on her feet while simultaneously taking the brunt of the fall for her.

But - fortunately or unfortunately, Rachel couldn't tell yet - she had, and was now sitting in the doctor's office with a sprained ankle, looking less than pleased with Rachel and awaiting a prescription for pain medication.

(Rachel secretly hopes the doctor overmedicates Quinn to the point where Quinn forgets she's angry with her.)

Neither of the two have spoken when the doctor comes back in with Quinn's prescription paper, but when he informs them that Quinn is to spend the next few days in bed, there's more than enough noise to make up for it.

"I have a two year-old who's celebrating Christmas for the first time tomorrow!" and "You mean I have to wait on her?" echo through the room at the same time, and immediately after she's spoken, Rachel feels Quinn's eyes trained on her, and, looking back down at her feet, bites her lip.

The doctor leaves the room immediately after that.

The taxi ride home is quiet, but Quinn lets Rachel rest her head on her shoulder, and, as Rachel turns her head to press a few apologetic kisses to her neck, reaches down to give the other woman's hand a soft squeeze, and that's all either of them need.

Rachel says she wants to carry Quinn up the stairs in front of their building after the taxi stops and they climb out, and so before Quinn knows what's happened, there's a slim arm bracing her lower back and Rachel's stooping down to sweep her up, but she pauses first and Quinn takes that moment of hesitation to remind her that they can't take care of Antoinette if both of them have sprained ankles. Rachel quickly concedes, then, and agrees to just let Quinn drape an arm around her as they make their way up the steps, into the elevator, and into their apartment together, but not after Rachel nearly slips on a patch of ice and drags them both headfirst down the stairs.

Quinn's asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, and Rachel only leaves her side to answer the door when their sitter gets home with Toni.

It's New Years' Eve, and Quinn is kissing her wife. They'd stayed home this year because of Rachel's pregnancy - "I'm pregnant, Quinn, not an invalid," Rachel had protested - and while yeah, Rachel was pregnant, there was nothing stopping Quinn from giving her wife a New Years' Kiss. Or two. Or three. Or four, she thinks as she mouths along Rachel's collarbone, adjusting her position on the couch with respect to Rachel's pregnant belly, when suddenly everything's all wet and Quinn knows she's good, but she's not that good, and she doesn't think getting that wet is even anatomically possible, so that must mean...

"Baby," Rachel's voice is still lower and a little huskier than normal, but she's catching her breath at least, "I think my water just broke."

Quinn's on autopilot from that moment on and she doesn't remember much until much later at the hospital when the baby is crowning and Rachel is screaming at her that if she knew three years ago when she asked what she would be doing doing New Years' Eve that three years later this would be it, she never would have agreed to marry her in the first place except now there's a baby in her arms and it's a beautiful baby girl. And Rachel says she wants to name her Antoinette and Quinn says it's perfect as she bends down to look at their new daughter in Rachel's arms, big brown eyes open and staring at the both of them, taking in her mothers for the first time in her life and it's funny and it's ironic and it's perfect because all of them are crying except their baby, except Toni - and when Quinn asks Rachel why Toni and Rachel looks at her as if it should be obvious, because the Tony Awards, really, Quinn doesn't even have the strength to swat at her because this is their baby girl, their daughter - but it doesn't matter because it's the happiest day of any of their lives, and later, when Antoinette is tucked safely away with the other newborns, Quinn slides under the covers with Rachel and pulls her close.

They stay like that, just the two of them, for a long time, until: "Quinn?"

Rachel's facing her now, and, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Quinn lets her hand linger on Rachel's jawbone for a moment. "Yeah?"

Rachel's eyes flit down for a minute before she looks back up at Quinn, reaching up to take her hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, when you..." She bites her lip now, "you know, did this."

Rachel's words hit Quinn hard, and before she knows what's happening, her eyes are tearing up, and she's gingerly pulling Rachel into her, and, burying her face in her hair, Quinn cries.

She wakes up to a sharp pain in her ankle.

"Rachel! Shit! That hurts!"

A pair of chocolate brown eyes partially obscured by a stray brown curl blink owlishly up at her. "Shit?"

Shit. Not the pair of brown eyes she'd been anticipating.

Antoinette picks herself up off Quinn's ankle - Quinn cringes, but manages to bite her tongue this time - and toddles up towards the pillows, where she plops back down. "Shit."

Quinn reaches a hand out to smooth her daughter's hair. "Antoinette, sweetie, don't say that word."

Antoinette swats Quinn's hand away. "Shit?"

"Yes, sweetie, that."

But Antoinette's already busied herself by bouncing on the bed and informing her mother at the top of her lungs that "Santa's here! Santa came!"

Then, of course, she trips over Quinn's ankle again.

Shit. Well, she's obviously Rachel's child.

And that's when Rachel stumbles through the door.

This time, when Antoinette happily exclaims "shit!" Quinn agrees wholeheartedly.

Rachel, clad in bright red footie pajamas that perfectly match Antoinette's, is literally dragging their Christmas tree with both hands, and not even her glancing over her shoulder stops her from running into the doorframe with a loud thunk.

"Mommy!" Antoinette's arms are in the air now, and she's all but bouncing on Quinn's ankle, and this has to be greatest fail of a Christmas morning ever, Quinn thinks, sitting up and plucking her daughter off of her ankle and settling her up on the pillows before sliding out of bed to grab the tree before it falls on top of Rachel.

"Quinn!" Rachel's screeching now, and again, Antoinette is definitely Rachel's daughter, "you aren't supposed to be out of bed!"

"Rachel, this tree is twice your size, and-"

"Are you calling me short?" Rachel's struggling to get the tree through the doorway now, her words coming out in ragged pants.

Quinn really can't resist. "No, but you do kind of look like an elf in those pajamas-"

"Well you know what Quinn?" Rachel bends over to pick up an ornament that's fallen, and Quinn can't help but tilt her head to the side for a better view of Rachel's ass, "I'm glad you're tall. I'm just delighted. It means," she finally gets the entirety of the tree into their room and starts dragging it to the corner, "there's more of you for me to dislike."

Quinn just laughs at that, falling back onto the bed, and, with a quick glance at Antoinette, who's now ogling the tree, raises an eyebrow at Rachel. "I thought you said yesterday morning you loved every inch of me, babe."

Rachel huffs, and, ignoring her, stomps out of the room and down the hall.

Falling back on her pillows, Quinn wraps an arm around Antoinette, who cuddles up to her. "What's your mommy up to, huh?"

Antoinette leans forward to kiss Quinn's nose, but before she can say anything, Rachel reappears in their room, arms full of the presents that had been under the tree, and dumping them unceremoniously beneath it in its new location, pads back to the living room to get the rest.

With Antoinette momentarily contented and snuggled in her arms, Quinn finally gets the chance to look around the room. There are Christmas lights around their window that hadn't been there before, a gingerbread candle burning on the bedside table, and Christmas songs escaping from the sound system in the corner. Their stockings - two big red ones with Quinn and Rachel's names on them and a smaller one with "Toni" emblazoned on it in gold, star at the end of her name included - are hanging from the shelf, and the tree looks like it could've been there the whole time.

Rachel reappears and drops the rest of the presents underneath the tree, and, after pausing for a moment to purse her lips at Quinn (which, Quinn notes, she does terribly, since her eyes soften the moment they land on both her and Antoinette), disappears again, only to reappear a few minutes later, with a tray of hot chocolate. Settling it on the table, she kneels on the bed, and, with a small smile, lifts up Quinn's ankle to adjust the pillows underneath it and slips back under the covers, curling up next to Quinn with Toni in between them. "Merry Christmas, baby."

Quinn's murmured "merry Christmas, babe" is drowned out by Toni's "merry Christmas, mommy!" and little arms throw themselves around Rachel's neck before she can say anything else.

Rachel catches Quinn's eyes over Toni's head and Quinn smiles, mouthing a simple "I love you," before leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of their daughter's head.

Quinn's touch seems to jerk Antoinette out of whatever reverie she's in, because suddenly she's back to bouncing - and finally, Quinn thinks, Rachel's here to pull her away from Quinn's ankle - and shouting "Santa came! Santa came!"

"Should we open some presents, then?" Rachel's sat up and is bouncing a little bit too, beaming at their daughter, and it's moments like this, Quinn thinks, when she knows that she made the right decision when she vowed to spend the rest of her life with Rachel.

The right decision, she thinks, even if Rachel is a little bit crazy and does things like completely redecorating their entire bedroom at the last minute. "So why the sudden change in decoration?"

Rachel looks up from where she's devolved into playing a game of Patty Cake with Toni. "What?"

"Why move all this," Quinn waves a hand around the room, "in here?"

"Because," Rachel drops Toni's hands now, and climbs to her knees, crawling up towards Quinn, "you can't get out of bed-"

Toni's followed her, and is situated precariously on Rachel's back now, looking at Quinn carefully, and even though neither Antoinette nor Rachel can see it, Quinn notes that they're wearing the exact same expressions and smiles despite herself.

"-and so I brought Christmas to you." She leans forward, and reaching a hand up to balance Toni, presses her lips against Quinn's gently. "Merry Christmas, baby."

Antoinette's passed out by now, arms clutched tightly around a new stuffed lamb, ribbon still around its neck, and mouth sticky with peppermint as Rachel carries her to her bed, tucking her in, before she goes back to sit on the bed across from Quinn.

"I've gotta say," Quinn starts as soon as she gets back, straightening against her pillows, "I'm surprised at how well you did today."

Rachel's eyebrows furrow a bit, "and why is that, Quinn?"

Her wife shrugs. "I just didn't think you would be able to pull off putting someone else before yourself for a day is all. Hey!" she exclaims when Rachel pokes her, "you know just as well as I do that you'd much rather be giving orders than taking them."

"To your credit, Quinn, you weren't nearly as demanding as I'd anticipated."

Quinn laughs. "I don't see why you can't just take a compliment instead of turning it into an insult and throwing it back at me. But seriously, Rach. You went above and beyond. You didn't need to do all this," she murmurs, leaning in closer towards Rachel.

Rachel beams proudly.

"Moving Christmas in here, wrangling Antoinette all day and making sure she only jumped on my ankle a total of thirteen times, forgetting to make her lunch until it was time for dinner, bringing me dinner and promptly spilling it all over the sheets... I don't know how you managed it all."

Rachel's scowling at her now, and, when Quinn grins and leans in to give her a quick kiss, turns her head so that Quinn only catches her cheek.

"I do, however, have one question," Quinn admits, sitting back up. "How on Earth did you find where I'd hidden all the Christmas presents I hadn't put under the tree yet?"

Rachel grins mischievously, proudly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You have no secrets from me, Quinn. I know all of your hiding spots."

Quinn's only response is to raise one eyebrow, and Rachel's confused for a moment until Quinn leans over to reach under the bed, coming up with a small, wrapped box. "Except the most obvious one, apparently," she says, grinning, and holding the package out to Rachel.

Rachel opens it, and it's a necklace with a small silver ice skate - with a tiny diamond laid in the heel - dangling from the bottom.

"I know how much you love necklaces, Rach - I mean, you got one with my name on it when we started dating senior year - and I know how much you love ice skating, too, so I got this for you with the intent to promise to take you and Toni ice skating on New Years', but," she laughs, "you kind of beat me to the punch."

Rachel's eyes are wide and watery and she's looking up at Quinn with that look she gets, and Quinn just smiles, taking the box out of her hand, and, taking the necklace, reaches up to fasten it around Rachel's neck as she leans forward. "There," she breathes, and now Rachel's leaning forward again to capture her lips with her own.

They kiss for a moment, slowly, languidly, Rachel's whispered "I love you"s and Quinn's breathy "I know"s breaking the silence every time they part for air, Rachel's hands warm against the flat plane of Quinn's stomach.

"Babe," Quinn pulls away suddenly, a glint in her eyes that Rachel's grown to both love and hate at the same time, "I do have one demand for you."

Rachel runs a hand through her hair. "Do you really have to do this now, Quinn?"

Quinn, pouting a little bit, ignores Rachel's comment. "It's just really cold here, Rachel. D'you wanna, I don't know, warm me up?"

Rachel gets it, then, and grins, sliding a knee over Quinn's legs, straddling her. "I think I have an idea that just might work..." Bringing her lips down to the hollow of Quinn's neck, she murmurs, "let me know when you're feeling hot," and her thumb's making small circles along Quinn's hipbone and her other hand is pushing up Quinn's camisole and Quinn thinks it's all going really well because somehow they're both naked now, and Rachel's thumb is circling her clit and she's arching her back and-

"Rachel, fuck!"

Rachel, whose mouth is otherwise occupied, doesn't respond.

"Rachel! You just kicked my ankle! Ow, fuck! You just did it again!"

Rachel's lips disconnect from Quinn's nipple with a slight pop, and, hair stuck to her forehead, she looks up at Quinn, confused.

"Rachel," Quinn growls, "Your. Foot. Is. Pressing. My ankle. The wrong. Way."

"Oh!" Rachel immediately rolls off of Quinn, and scrambles down to the foot of their bed to check on her ankle. "I just... You said 'Rachel, fuck,' and I assumed- Well, I assumed it was the other kind of 'Rachel, fuck,' baby. I'm so sorry..."

Pressure no longer on her ankle, Quinn laughs. "It's okay, Rach. Let's just... Take a break, yeah?"

Rachel nods and climbs back up to lie next to Quinn, arms barely touching.

"That doesn't mean you don't have to touch me, Berry. I'm still cold, you know." Almost instantly Quinn finds her arm tightening around her wife as Rachel cuddles up next to her, carefully sliding a leg between Quinn's and resting her head on her chest. "I'm sorry I ruined your Christmas, Quinn," she whispers, burying her face in Quinn's neck.

"You didn't ruin Christmas, baby," Quinn laughs, "you just made it more interesting, is all."

Rachel, head still buried in Quinn's neck, sniffs.

"Oh, stop it," Quinn pulls back to look at Rachel, expression softening. "You know you could never ruin Christmas, baby."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Quinn leans down to peck Rachel's nose. "What'd I tell you five years ago?"

There's a pause, then, "that you wanted to take me to the park?"

Quinn purses her lips at her, but Rachel's already all but leapt forward to kiss them, and when Rachel pulls away, no matter how much Quinn wishes she wasn't smiling, she is. "Stop being difficult, Rachel."

Rachel just looks at her innocently and blinks.

Quinn sighs. "All I've ever wanted for Christmas," she starts, eying Rachel wearily, "is you, Rachel Berry. So as long as I still have you here to throw a fit when I'm trying to propose or name our baby after some stupid award or sprain my ankle for me the day before Christmas, the holidays will never be ruined, okay?"

Her only response is another kiss, and, as snow begins to fall outside their window, a "can that break be over now?"