A/N Bit random, but it just seemed so good for them, especially seeing as Finn always treated Rachel so badly.

Took a deep breath in the mirror,

He didn't like it when I wore high heels

But I do.

I examine myself critically in the large mirror leaning against the wall of my room. I know it isn't a proper date – might not even be a lunch-date – but somehow it does make a difference, what I wear. In a way, I contemplate, it's how Quinn and I chose to treat our lunch that defines whether it is a date or not. Our first date; or just another couple of hours enjoying each other's company and dancing around in circles like Minnaloushe and the Moon.

Could I tip the scales of our relationship just by wearing high heels and a skirt instead of jeans? Probably not. But it couldn't hurt to send a clear signal early on.

With one last look to check my make-up, I pick up my headphones and leave the room, my sanctuary.

Kurt looks up from his copy of 'Vogue' and smiles approvingly. 'You look great, Rach'.

I give a less-than-beaming smile and Kurt instantly realises the extent of my nerves. 'Honey, she likes you, you like her. You're going for lunch together to chat and there's absolutely no pressure and still the potential for everything. It's perfect!' he earnestly assures me.

I nod and give him a much more confident smile, though I can see he knows I'm not completely convinced. He crosses the room to take my hand and looks me in the face. 'You two are meant to be'.

I nod and try not to think about all the times Finn told me that.

Turn the lock and put my headphones on -

He always said he didn't get this song

but I do, I do.

With a few final words of pep-talk, Kurt waves me off, practically tearful himself.

I decide to take the stairs to give myself more time to mentally prepare myself. Eight months was a respectable amount of time right? I wasn't going to ruin this – whatever this was- by turning it into some rebound thing was I?

I smile as the spectre of Santana rises in my head and scoffs 'Berry, eight months is a freaking life-time! Get back in the game before your cherry heals over!' I pull a face at how well my imagination mimics Santana's crass mannerisms. I decide to put my ipod on to rescue myself from my own brain.

Flicking through, idly, I stop on Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand's 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers'. It appeals to my self-confessed dramatic sensibilities to listen to this as my final, final farewell to Finn and all he had entailed.

I remember him coming round to my house to pick me up one Friday night, and finding me crying at this song.

He had been bewildered and more than a little horrified to find himself alone with a weeping Rachel Berry. Unable to understand why I was so upset at the 'death of our romance', he had left me alone, and brought me a bunch of tulips the next morning (a flower I have always hated for their association with death), beaming proudly as if he had made everything right.

I think I knew, deep down, that even then we would never work. I just couldn't bring myself to see it.

Now this song was a sort of purging, like washing one's feet to enter the temple.

Walked in expecting you'd be late,

But you got here early and you stand and wave,

I walk to you.

You pull my chair out and help me in,

And you don't know how nice that is

But I do.

I am a good ten minutes early and what with Quinn coming all the way from Yale and having to navigate her way to the unknown vegan restaurant, I figured I had up to a half hour to wait.

I am surprised, then, when the blonde is already stood outside the door, waiting for me.

She looks up as I approach and gives me the happiest smile I have ever seen her give anyone.

She steps forward instantly to wrap me up in her arms in a warm hug. 'I missed you', she murmurs into my ear.

'Missed you too', I reply, and letting me go quicker than I would have liked, she smiles again. I give an involuntary shiver at the cool spring breeze and she immediately notices. 'Come on, let's go in. I'm glad you're here early too – I thought I was going to freeze!'

She opens the door and waves me through.

'Thanks. How come you're here so early? I thought your train wasn't in until now?'

She gives me a swift, conspiratorial grin. 'It isn't. I got an earlier one so I could see you sooner'. I chuckle breathlessly as her hazel-gold eyes catch the sparkle of mischief.

'You should have told me!' I scold, annoyed that I missed out on an extra half-hour with her.

She shrugs. 'You're here now'.

If it wasn't for all the other people in the line for coffee, I would just lean up and kiss her right now.

No one has ever showed me this kind of care before. Like she wants me to see how all of my life's minutiae matter to her.

You said you never met one girl who

had as many James Taylor records as you

but I do.

We tell stories and you don't know why

I'm coming off a little shy

but I do.

'You grab the table and I'll bring the coffees over? She offers.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. What are you having to eat?'

'The pasta-salad, please. Are you sure you're alright to pay? I...'

'Rach', she cuts me off. All softness and amusement. 'If you don't let me pay, this won't be a date and all of my effort to get you flowers has been wasted'.

The words take a moment to sink in and then they are perfect. 'So this is a date?'

She looks a little shy now, scuffing her toes a little. 'If you want that too?'

I pretend to consider the offer for a moment and she watches me, anxiously. 'Depends on the flowers' I tease.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. Pulling, a bouquet carefully from the top of her bag, she presents me with the fullest bunch of daffodils I've ever seen. Bright yellow and blooming like there's no tomorrow.

'Thank you. They're my favourite', I tell her, joyfully sinking into their spring smell. And they are.

'Now, shoo! I'll bring the stuff'.

Feeling brave, I reach up and peck her cheek, before turning to find a table with my lovely flowers.

I know she is blushing from the stuttering order she gives the barista and I giggle at her cuteness.

When she eventually sits down opposite me, there is a moment's quiet as we just stare at each other, unable to believe we're doing this.

Boldly, she stretches her hand across the table and invites mine. I give it to her and she entwines our fingers until I can't tell whose are whose. Which is just as it should be.

'When I was little, I did this with Puck when we were in the car, and then I got cross with him so I tried to bite him so he'd let go of my hand, but I bit my own fingers instead', I admit, sheepishly.

She giggles. 'You must have been quite a handful'.

'I was, but Puck was worse. Half the times I got into trouble were because of him. There was this one service when we were both six...'

She's watching me intently, leaning in to engage totally, not even noticing that the waitress is bringing our food to the table.

She wants to hear.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid.
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did.
I've been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end;
But on a Wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it begin again.

As we eat, she tells me about her 'man-mistake mark III' as she calls her Psychology Professor.

Ever since Santana had let it slip that the girl had been sleeping with her professor I had been worried, but Quinn had hastened to assure me that it was all over now and she fully realised how stupid it had been. 'The thing is Rach', she explains, and I smile just as I do every time she calls me by by name or a term of endearment – I suspect I'll never stop getting pleasure from the substitution of these for the old insults. 'You had Kurt, and now Santana, and your dads were always calling to check up on you and everything. I only had my mum at home who did her best, but she didn't want to be over-bearing. It was...' she pauses, looking for the right word. She tilts her head at me and admits, a little embarrassed, a little vulnerable: 'lonely. And scary'.

I reach out this time and touch my finger tips to hers, to reassure her. 'I agree it was a mistake, but, I do get it' I tell her. And I do. For someone as bruised as Quinn, finding herself alone again must have been beyond terrifying. I know that maybe if we'd all been there for her more, If I'd been there for her more, she wouldn't have been taken advantage of that like that. She would have been stronger, less afraid.

There is a pause and I struggle to fill it, desperate to stop her dwelling and to prove to her that I really don't judge her for her actions. 'At least you chose someone like that', I try, lamely. 'I mean, look at me. When I was lonely I latched on to our creepily-Finn-obsessed, rapping, inspirational-quote-loving glee coach!'

I smile and Quinn bursts out laughing. It makes me feel so incredible to be able to cheer her up like that. I'm never usually very good at it. People either don't like my straight-talking or aren't impressed by my inspiring mottoes. Finn always told me I was rubbish at cheering people up because I didn't understand people. But, somehow, I understand the girl that no one else does. And she understands me like no one else ever has. I guess that makes us perfect for each other.

Just as I am thinking this, Quinn shyly bumps her knees against mine, smiling naughtily.

I can't help but smile back as she sneakily tangles our legs together, somehow cementing this as the start of us for real this time. Only now do I realise how important all these little signs are with Quinn. She's not a big gestures kind of girl – she thinks it's all a bit fake, coming up with over-blown cliches copied from eighties rom-coms. But what she does is better. A thousand tiny ways of showing she's thinking about you, that you are hers.

I've been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end;
But on a Wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it begin again.

Quinn grins, smug to have made me laugh so hard that I choke on my food. I've never seen her like this before, slyly mimicking our old class-mates perfectly but without malice – her Sue Sylvester is terrifyingly convincing.

She gives me the most adoring look anyone has ever sent my way, and it takes all the breath from my laughing.

'Rach'.

My name sounds different now. Somehow exquisitely lovely from her lips. 'Yeah?' I breathe.

'I love you' she husks, simultaneously filling me with elation and the desire to jump her right here.

'I love you too', I reply without even realising until I say it how true it is.

I've been in love again all this time and not even realised it. Me- who always wears my heart on my sleeve. How about that?

And we walked down the block to my car and I almost brought him up,

But you start to talk about the movies that your family watches

every single Christmas and I want to talk about that.

And for the first time, what's past is past.

A/N I know it could be better, but please review anyway?