A/N: Just some birthday!fluff, since Rachel's birthday is TODAY! My birthday was three days ago, and as a belated present, you can leave a review. ;)
It starts when Rachel shows up in Quinn's bedroom with a large, purple binder. The blonde recoils a bit at the sight; the purple binder has become her cue to put away anything she had been previously doing and cancel any plans for the rest of the day, because Rachel will want her undivided attention for an inordinate amount of time. The last time it came out, they spent four hours discussing potential duets they could sing in Glee club if they changed the pronouns.
"What's up, babe?" Quinn asks, trying to seem as upbeat as possible when faced with an expected Rachel Berry lecture.
"Well, as you are hopefully aware, today is November twenty-ninth."
Quinn nods, signaling for Rachel to continue.
"This means Birthday Week starts in exactly two weeks, and I need to begin planning."
"Birthday week?" Quinn asks, raising an eyebrow.
"It's not yet a national holiday, but I suspect that it will be within the next five years. Currently, it is only observed by me and my fathers, but as my girlfriend, I believe you are somewhat obligated to partake in the festivities."
"That does sound reasonable," Quinn says with a nod, biting back a smile. Her girlfriend is insane, and she loves it. "What's on the agenda?"
Rachel flashes a bright smile and throws open the purple binder. She spends the fifteen minutes going over each day in painstaking detail, to the point where Quinn is sincerely sorry that she asked.
"I thought that perhaps on Sunday," Rachel says finally says. "We could watch the Barbra Streisand box set my dads are going to give me."
Quinn looks up from the stack of papers Rachel had given her to look over. "How do you know what they got you?"
"Oh, I bought it with Daddy's credit card and had the store wrap it. It's more fun that way."
"So, wait, you planned this all by yourself and bought your own presents?"
Rachel nods absently. "Do you think that you could convince Brittany and Santana to join us for dinner on Friday? Tell Santana we can go to Breadstix if she'd be willing to grace us with her presence."
"It's your birthday, Rach. We'll go wherever you want and Santana will deal with it. But, seriously, how long have you been doing this by yourself? It seems kind of…sad," Quinn says softly.
"My fathers are very busy men, Quinn. I've been in charge of my birthday festivities since the age of three. It's actually quite convenient."
Quinn frowns. Even her parents, despite all of their shortcomings, have always managed to take care of cake and presents on her birthday. The thought of her girlfriend having to take care of it herself, even if she does it of her own accord, makes Quinn's heart ache a little bit.
"Well, I'm sure you put a lot of work into these plans, but I'll be taking care of things this year."
The words leave her mouth before she realizes what she's just offered. Quinn really had planned to take her out to a nice dinner and a movie, like any good girlfriend would, but the idea of a week-long celebration is more than a little daunting. Especially when it's a week-long celebration that has to meet the standard of Rachel Berry. She's never been great at planning things like this, and she's pretty sure there's a high chance of this ending horribly.
However, she's also pretty sure that the smile spreading across her girlfriend's face is reason enough to give it her best shot.
–––––
Monday
December thirteenth comes sooner than Quinn finds necessary. She has spent two weeks planning what is supposed to be the best birthday celebration Rachel has ever had, and she still has a nagging feeling that things are going to go terribly awry by the time Rachel's actual birthday rolls around.
They part ways after school, even though they usually spend the afternoons together. Rachel feels that it's not a real date unless she's picked up at the front door, so Quinn has resigned herself to afternoons alone for the next week. It will all be worth it, of course, when Rachel has the best birthday week of her entire life.
She's at Rachel's house at six o'clock on the dot, with a thermos of hot chocolate in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.
Rachel opens the door two seconds after the doorbell rings, smiling brightly. "Are those for me?" she asks, eyeing the flowers adoringly.
"No, actually, is your dad home?"
Rachel rolls her eyes and takes the roses, and then practically skips to the kitchen to find a vase. Quinn suspects that she was expecting flowers, because it takes her a surprisingly short amount of time to return to the front door with her coat on, ready to go.
"You're going to get cold," Quinn says, giving Rachel a once-over. "I'm not complaining about the view, but your legs are going to be freezing, baby."
"Why? Where are we going?" Rachel asks. She's been trying to figure out all of Quinn's plans for weeks now, despite Quinn remaining firm and refusing to give hints.
"I'm not telling," she replies. "But I will say that you are really, really going to be cold if you don't change into pants."
"You really won't tell me where we're going?" Rachel pouts. "Then I guess I'll take my chances."
–––––
"So, wait, you knowingly let your girlfriend go ice skating in a skirt?" Rachel asks in disbelief, as they walk toward the skate rental kiosk. "Your girlfriend, who has actually never been ice skating before? I feel like this is an elaborate ploy to see my panties."
Quinn ignores the stares that they get from unsuspecting passers-by and laughs. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but now that you mention it…"
Rachel playfully shoves the blonde, and then looks toward the rink. "It's not hard, is it?"
"Not at all," Quinn says, picking up their skates. "Look at all the little kids out there. You'll be fine."
Rachel silently chews on her bottom lip as they walk toward the rink, lace up their skates, and make their way toward the ice.
"I won't let you fall, baby," Quinn says, taking Rachel's hands in hers and stepping onto the ice. They start slowly, barely moving at all, until Rachel starts to relax. They gain speed and make a few laps at a fairly steady pace, with Quinn basically just pulling Rachel along.
"This isn't so bad," Rachel says with a smile, as she begins to mimic Quinn's moves. "You can let go, I think."
"You sure?" Quinn says, raising an eyebrow. "I don't mind holding on."
"I think I can handle it, Quinn," she replies, eyeing the children skating around them with ease. "I've got this."
Quinn drops Rachel's hands and watches closely as she starts moving on her own.
"Good, Rachel!" she says, as the brunette picks up speed and starts gliding with ease around the rink. Quinn skates nearby, careful not to crowd her but wanting still to be close in case Rachel loses her balance.
"You've totally got this," Quinn exclaims with a smile.
Rachel looks to her and grins. "I totally do," she says. "This really isn't hard at…"
The next few seconds go in slow motion for Quinn, who can only watch in horror as a child flies past Rachel and knocks her off balance. Her skates go flying out from under her in a manner that would be comical if it wasn't her girlfriend flailing around with a look of sheer terror on her face.
She falls with a thud, her head bouncing hard on the ice. Quinn is already on her knees beside her, making sure she's still breathing and conscious.
"Rachel, baby," she says frantically, lightly touching her shoulder because she can't think of anything else to do. "Are you okay? What's the date? Who is our current president? How many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, waving her entire hand in front of Rachel's face.
Rachel blinks a few times, then scrunches her face in pain. "Ow," she whimpers.
"I know it hurts, Rach, I know. You're freaking me out, though. What's my name?
"Quinn," Rachel says slowly.
"Yes! Good. Okay, what's your address?"
"Quinn!" Rachel repeats forcefully. "Help me up before my legs turn black and fall off," she grumbles.
"Oh," Quinn says softly. "Sorry."
Quinn drives Rachel home shortly thereafter, and sticks around to make sure that she doesn't show signs of a concussion (which she had to Google on her phone on the way home); a few hours later, she has a raging headache, a sore back, a lump on her head that deserves its own zip code, and an understandably bad attitude, but is otherwise no worse for wear.
When Quinn's curfew approaches, she helps Rachel into bed and tucks her in. "Sorry about your head," she whispers. "Nice panties, though."
"Funny. You're funny," Rachel says with a frown that suggests otherwise.
"I'm sorry, babe," Quinn says with a laugh. "I really am. Next time we go ice skating, I'll rent the whole rink and we won't have to worry about any demonic five-year-olds."
Rachel smiles a little at this, even though she clearly would rather be scowling.
Quinn's cell phone buzzes, and she steals a quick peek at the screen before sighing. "That's my mom. I really need to get home. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?"
Rachel nods and smiles genuinely this time. "Love you," she says softly.
"Love you, too," Quinn replies, kissing Rachel on the lips and then backing out of the room. As she shows herself to the door, she finds herself hoping against all hope that tonight wasn't an indication of things to come.
–––––
Tuesday
On Tuesday, she feels a little more relaxed. With Santana's help, there were no Slushie facials, with Puck's help, Jacob was terrified to come anywhere near her girlfriend, and with Kurt and Mercedes' help, the club put together a surprise number musical number in Rachel's honor. She couldn't have asked for a more perfect start to the day.
Why she expected it to stay that way, she'll never know.
Quinn is driving Rachel home from school, and as per usual, Rachel has taken over the music. It's been so long since Quinn had any say over what she listened to that she's not actually sure if she can name a single song in the top forty at this point.
Just as they're pulling into Rachel's driveway, she claps excitedly and turns the volume dial up; this is her signal that she wants Quinn to listen to this song and feign intense interest.
About a minute in, she notices that Rachel won't stop staring at her. At first it was strange but cute, but now Rachel looks a little angry and it's kind of frightening. She tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace, which seems to only upset Rachel more.
"What do you think of this song, Quinn?" she asks icily.
Quinn furrows her brow. "I…it's…I love it?"
Rachel nods thoughtfully, pursing her lips together. "Why do you love it, Quinn?"
"Because…it's from my favorite musical," she says with an enthusiastic nod. "I love Evita."
The look of fury in Rachel's eyes is enough to cause the blonde to actually cower a bit in her seat. That was not the right answer.
"This song is from West Side Story," she says quietly, before grabbing her backpack and yanking the door open. "West Side Story!"
Quinn watches in absolute shock as Rachel runs up the front steps and into the house, slamming the front door behind her. When she fully processes what just happened, she immediately runs after her; she's immensely glad that Rachel was too distraught to think to lock the front door.
She dutifully makes her way up the stairs, towards the bedroom where she can hear Rachel weeping behind a closed door.
"Baby," she says, knocking on the door. "Rachel, come out, okay? Let's talk about this."
"I don't want to talk!" Rachel wails.
"What happened? I don't…I'm sorry, Rach, but I just don't know why you're this upset."
"Really?" Rachel demands. "Really? West Side Story, Quinn."
Quinn blinks. "Uh-huh?"
"Need I remind you of our very first date?" Rachel says. "We watched West Side Story and America was on when you kissed me for the first time."
"Oh."
Rachel scoffs loud enough for Quinn to hear it loud and clear. "Yes, oh."
Without thinking, Quinn lets a small laugh bubble up. "That's like thirty minutes into the movie. We really didn't waste any time, huh?"
Rachel cries harder.
Quinn simply sighs and runs her hands through her hair. She really sucks at Birthday Week.
–––––
Wednesday
After giving Quinn the silent treatment for most of the day, Rachel finally sits next to her in Glee on Wednesday and announces that she is willing to grant her temporary, conditional forgiveness; she has until ten o'clock tonight to prove that she is truly sorry for the events of the previous evening. Quinn is pretty sure Rachel just doesn't want to miss out on another night of festivities, but she wouldn't dare call her on it at this point. Instead, she simply smiles, thanks Rachel for her benevolence, and hopes to God that her plans for this evening are enough to get her back in Rachel's good graces.
They once again go to their respective houses after school, and Quinn once again picks Rachel up at six o'clock. Quinn had previously told Rachel that the attire for this evening would be formal, and as she expected, the sight of her girlfriend walking down the stairs leaves her breathless.
"You look amazing," Quinn says, taking Rachel's right hand and kissing it demurely. "Absolutely amazing."
Rachel blushes and ducks her head slightly, biting her lip. "Thank you," she says softly. "As do you, Quinn."
Quinn smiles, taking Rachel's arm and turning to the front door. "Shall we, my lady?"
Rachel blushes again, and Quinn grins. She is totally out of the doghouse.
–––––
Quinn takes Rachel to a trendy and horrendously expensive vegan restaurant a few towns over, and Rachel's excitement is enough to make Quinn forget how much she wants some real food; there will be time for a McDonald's run after she drops Rachel off, so she's not about to let on to the fact that she finds all this rabbit food fairly disgusting. She forces it down for Rachel's sake, and hopes that this is proof enough that she is really, terribly sorry for every single thing she has ever done wrong in her entire life.
The evening goes extremely well, with Rachel seeming to have forgotten that she was ever mad at Quinn for anything by the time they leave the restaurant and start heading toward Lima. It's about a forty-five minute drive, and they spend the first thirty happily chatting and being kind of ridiculously adorable; Santana would throw herself off a bridge if she witnessed the adoring glances that the two keep shooting each other.
There comes a point, however, when Rachel suddenly grows very quiet. Quinn is terrified that she has once again unwittingly earned the silent treatment, and she's honestly a little afraid to address Rachel at all. She steals a quick glance in Rachel's direction and then takes a deep breath. "What's wrong, baby? Was it the dessert I ordered? You didn't seem into it, but I really thought…"
"Ugh, don't talk about dessert," Rachel moans, squeezing her eyes shut. "Take me home. Go as fast as you can."
Quinn frowns. "What did I do, Rach? I really have no idea what…"
Rachel shakes her head furiously. "No, Quinn, just…just pull over. Quickly."
"You are not walking home, Rachel. And really, this is about tiramisu? This is absolutely…"
Quinn stops short when, to her great surprise and horror, Rachel's hands fly to her mouth and she starts heaving. "Pull…over," Rachel manages, doubling over in her seat.
Quinn does as she's told this time and quickly pulls to the side of the road. Before the car is even fully stopped, Rachel flings her door open and leans out the side. Quinn rubs her back gently as she empties the contents of her stomach.
Eventually, she slumps back against the seat, her face sweaty and colorless, and turns her head to Quinn. "I didn't want to say anything, but the cashew curry tasted a little off."
Quinn leans her head against the steering wheel. She is so, so not out of the doghouse.
–––––
Thursday
On Thursday, Rachel's fathers keep her home from school. It seems quite likely that it was just food poisoning, but according to the text message update Quinn received that morning, Rachel had spent most of the night heaving and was in no shape to get up and around by the start of school.
They exchange text messages and quick calls all day, and by the end of the school day, Rachel says that she is feeling good as new. Quinn suspects that she's just trying to convince her dads that she can come to Glee, so she gives Santana and Brittany the movie tickets she had purchased and calls Rachel to tell her that they're just going to have a quiet night in.
"Can we scrapbook?" Rachel asks, after hesitantly agreeing that she would feel better just taking it easy for the night.
"If that's what you want to do," Quinn replies with a laugh. "I'll bring some movies, too, so maybe we can act like normal teenagers at some point in the evening."
"Ha ha ha," Rachel says flatly. "Scrapbooking is a hobby for all ages, Quinn."
"Did you hear that from someone in your knitting circle?" Quinn teases, holding the phone to her ear between her shoulder as she unlocks her front door.
"You are so mean to me!" Rachel cries, adding a 'hmmph' for good measure.
"You know I do it with love, baby," Quinn says with a smirk. "Listen, I just got home and I'm going to hop in the shower real quick. I'll be by your place around five, okay?"
"Sounds good. I'll have the scrapbooking paper out! Love you!" she says happily.
"Love you, too," Quinn says, before flipping her phone shut and tossing it on the dining room table, next to her backpack. She tries to ignore the unsettled feeling in her stomach as she makes her way upstairs and into the bathroom. The feeling grows during her shower, and by the time she's done, she feels tired and a little achy, too. She has thirty minutes before she has to be at Rachel's house, so she lets herself sink into her bed, for just a few minutes.
When she opens her eyes, it's dark outside and she feels like she's been hit by a truck. "Oh, no," she moans, looking to the clock beside her bed and hoping to God that somehow it's wrong; there's no way she's been asleep for three hours.
When she gets downstairs and finds six missed calls and five new text messages, she wants to give up on life. How is this possible? And why does she feel like she's about to puke?
She dials Rachel's number as fast as she can and doesn't wait for her to finish the word 'hello' before she starts in on her apology. "Oh God, Rachel, I'm so sorry. I fell asleep somehow, I don't even know how, and it's seven-thirty and it's…oh God, it's so cold in my house and I think I might…I think I'm going to…oh, shit, I've got to go," she says, not even bothering to end the call before she runs down the hallway, toward the bathroom.
The next thing she's truly aware of is Rachel hovering over her, placing a cool, wet towel on her forehead and cooing over her like she's a baby or something. She tries to sit up, but Rachel gently pushes her down.
"Looks like even the unconquerable Quinn Fabray isn't immune to food poisoning," Rachel says with a small smile.
Quinn groans, letting her head hit the pillow. This cannot be happening. "What time is it?" she mumbles.
"Almost nine. You've been asleep off and on for the past hour or so, since a little after I got here."
"I'm so sorry," Quinn says. "This is stupid. You shouldn't have to hold a cold towel to my head right now. Totally stupid. Really, really, really…stupid."
Rachel laughs at Quinn's fever-induced vocabulary deficiency and runs a hand over her hair. "You did the same thing for me, though. I don't mind."
"I mind," Quinn grumbles.
"You don't want me here?" Rachel asks, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown.
"No," Quinn sighs. "I mean, yes. I mean, I'm glad you're here because I think my mom would just let me die and also because you're my girlfriend and I always want you here, but I don't want to be sick during birthday week. It's not fair to you."
"Well, there's nothing you can do about being sick," Rachel says. "So just relax and let me nurse you back to health."
Something about this sentence is hilarious to Quinn in her delirious state, and she breaks out into uncontrollable laughter. "You do that, babe," she says between giggles. "You do that."
She falls asleep twenty-two seconds later, and dreams of Rachel giving her a sponge bath in a sexy nurse costume. She still feels absolutely horrible for ruining yet another night of birthday week, but she can't deny that it wasn't the worst night's sleep she's ever had.
–––––
Friday
Friday confirms that Quinn likely had food poisoning as well, as she feels infinitely better when she wakes up that morning. She's not going to let another day of Birthday Week go to waste, so she picks Rachel up at seven o'clock, after instructing her to wear warm clothes (and then clarifying that this means she actually has to wear pants this time) and to eat beforehand, because she probably won't like much of what their destination has to offer.
Initially, Rachel is unbearably excited and can't stop begging for hints and bouncing up and down in the seat every few minutes. However, as they head out of town, she seems to deflate a bit, and this continues with every turn Quinn takes. When they pull into the open field doubling as a parking lot and their plans for the evening become clear, Rachel has sunk down low into her seat and takes in a deep breath, slowly letting it out a few seconds later.
"Rach? Are you okay?"
Rachel turns to Quinn and nods quickly. "Oh, uh, yes. I'm fine. I just…it's been forever since I've gone to the winter festival. I'm just…really excited."
She flashes a perfect Rachel Berry grin, and Quinn accepts it. "Excellent. Let's go!"
They exit the car and walk hand-in-hand toward the entrance, though Quinn almost feels like she's dragging her most of the way.
Once they're in the fairgrounds, however, she finds that Rachel is all too eager to keep up the pace. She holds Quinn's arm tightly, and refuses to be away from her for even a second. When Quinn gets in line for hot chocolate and suggests that Rachel find them a table, the color drains from her face.
"Oh, but you can't carry the cups by yourself! I'll stay with you," she says with a firm nod.
Quinn raises an eyebrow. "I've got two hands, Rach. I think I'll manage. If you hurry, you might be able to find a spot close to the bonfire."
Rachel eyes the seating area warily, but quickly puts on a smile when she turns back to Quinn. "Okay. Just…be quick," she says, giving Quinn's hand a tight squeeze before slowly making her way across the field.
Quinn waves every time Rachel looks over her shoulder, until she can no longer see the small girl among the throngs of people. The line for drinks is long, and when she finally has the cups in her hands, she begins hurrying through the crowd. She could tell that Rachel didn't want to be away from her, and she wasn't sure why her normally confident and independent girlfriend was being so clingy, but she isn't going to question it during Birthday Week.
She scans the seating area once, twice, and then a third time before her pulse quickens a bit; she can't find her. She scours the area frantically, barely apologizing when she pushes her way through the crowd. There are just so many people and Rachel is so tiny, and she made them split up even though Rachel didn't want to, and now she has lost Rachel. She has losther girlfriend.
Quinn turns around and begins making her way in the other direction, thinking that maybe Rachel had gone to find her. She walks for roughly half a minute before she comes upon a mass of people congregating in the middle of a walkway. Quinn finds this completely unacceptable and quickly bypasses the group, but on her way past, she sees a flash of brown hair and hears a pained voice that she would recognize anywhere.
"That's my girlfriend," she growls, shoving through the barricade of people to find Rachel doubled over, alternating between sobbing and gasping for breath. An older woman is trying to calm her down, and Quinn quickly takes her place. It takes Rachel a moment to realize that she's in Quinn's arms, but when she does, she grips the blonde tighter than Quinn thought possible.
"Rachel, baby," she says softly. "What's wrong? What's going on?"
When Rachel tries to speak but continues weeping instead, Quinn pulls away from the embrace and gently leads Rachel through the swarm of people, until they find a spot away from the crowds and noise. Quinn lowers herself to the grass behind a tree and pats the ground next to her. Rachel ignores her suggestion and instead climbs into her lap, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder.
"Okay," Quinn says quietly. "What happened?"
Rachel takes a shuddering breath. "I couldn't…I couldn't f-f-find you," she wails.
Quinn frowns. "I told you I would come find you," she says gently. "Did you think I left you or something?"
Rachel's eyes go wide at this, and a fresh batch of tears start spilling over. "I hate fairs," she says with a sob. "I'm sorry, Quinn, but I hate them so, so much."
"What? Why? And why didn't you tell me?"
"When I was five," Rachel says before pausing to take a deep breath. "my dads brought me here for my birthday. They had taken two separate cars because Daddy had to work late. When they left, they both thought the other one had me, and…"
Quinn tries to suppress her surprise, but doesn't do a good job of it. "They left you?"
Rachel nods. "They left me. They didn't realize until they both came home, obviously, so I had to wait in the ticket booth with a carnival person for almost an hour. I thought my incredible talent had worked against me and that they had sold me to the circus."
Quinn resists the urge to smile at this, because really, only baby Rachel would come up with that, and instead pulls the girl closer. "I'm so sorry, babe."
"It was the scariest thing I have ever experienced, and years of therapy haven't cured my intense fear of carnivals," she says with a sniffle.
"Why didn't you tell me as soon as you realized where we were going? If I had known…"
"I know this week hasn't exactly gone as planned, and I just…I could tell how excited you were about this, and I wanted you to think that I was having fun. I'm sorry," Rachel replies. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."
"Yes, you should have," Quinn says quietly, wiping a tear from Rachel's cheek. "Now, let's get out of here."
The drive home is extremely quiet, with Rachel still recovering from the evening's trauma and Quinn feeling so guilty that she can barely breathe. When they pull into Rachel's driveway, they sit in silence for several moments.
"Your dads said that I could stay over, so that we could get started early tomorrow. I understand if you just want to call it a night, though," Quinn says quietly, staring at her hands.
Rachel scoffs. "Don't be silly, Quinn! Of course I want you to stay the night!"
"Even though I accidentally made you feel like a contestant on Fear Factor on the night before your birthday?" Quinn says with a heaving sigh.
"'Accidentally' is the key word there, I believe," Rachel says with a slight smile. "Any anyway, you can spend the rest of the evening making it up to me."
Quinn laughs and reaches in the backseat for her overnight bag. God, she loves this woman.
–––––
Saturday
December eighteenth arrives, and not a moment too soon. Quinn is truly ready to get this week over with. One more day is just one more chance for one more thing to go wrong, and if one more thing goes wrong, she's going to have a nervous breakdown.
Today is going to be perfect. It has to be perfect.
She wakes up on the Berrys' couch a little before seven, and carefully extracts herself from Rachel's surprisingly heavy slumbering form. Rachel scowls in her sleep at the sudden lack of contact, but her face relaxes when Quinn shoves a pillow in her arms. She smiles fondly as she smoothes out Rachel's hair and pulls the blanket up to the brunette's shoulders, then slowly backs out of the room.
The plan is to have breakfast ready when Rachel wakes up, lounge around the house for a bit, and then be on the road to Columbus after a light lunch. The fact that Quinn had managed to find tickets to sing-along Sound of Music on such short notice was miracle enough, but the fact that she had kept it from her super-sleuth of a girlfriend was absolutely incredible; if all goes according to plan, this is going to be greatest best birthday surprise she's ever pulled off.
If all goes according to plan.
She enters the kitchen and finds Rachel's fathers sitting on barstools at the island, sipping coffee and chatting quietly. She knows that something is wrong the second they look at her. They both offer sympathetic smiles and then Leroy's eyes flicker toward the small television on the counter.
Her gaze settles on the images flashing across the screen: cars skidding down ice-packed streets, snow drifts that nearly reach the roofs of nearby homes, and trees split in half from the weight of the elements. The news anchor announces that this is the worst snowstorm Allen County has seen in almost twenty years, and her stomach drops.
"No," she whispers. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."
"Sorry, honey," Hiram says softly. "They're advising everyone to stay off the roads unless it's an emergency."
Quinn runs to the window, as if there's some chance that this is just a huge mistake. When she can't even make out where the yard ends and the street begins, she wants to cry.
Instead, she walks out of the kitchen and down the hall, toward the entryway. She doesn't even bother with shoes before she flings the door open and marches outside. The white is blinding and her whole body is immediately so cold that it burns, and she doesn't care.
"No, no, no, no, no," she chants, kicking at the drifts of fluffy, white disaster. Snow wasn't even in the forecast. There is no way that this is real life. Today was supposed to be perfect.
She continues abusing the snow for what feels like ages (probably because the temperature is in the single digits and she's not wearing shoes), until it becomes clear that she has attracted an audience.
Rachel is standing in the doorway, her face fixed in a sleepy, confused frown.
Quinn pauses and takes a deep breath. "Happy birthday, baby."
"Are your feet cold?" she asks.
Quinn freezes, and then looks down at her bare, bright red feet. "Not really," she says. They're actually kind of numb.
"Get in here," Rachel demands. "Right now."
Quinn's shoulders slump, and she slowly makes her way inside. She goes in for a good morning/happy birthday/sorry-you-had-to-see-that hug, but Rachel backs up and points toward the stairs.
"Get changed into warm clothes before you freeze to death."
Rachel walks away grumbling about hypothermia putting a real damper on her birthday celebration, leaving Quinn standing in the entryway, shivering cold and convinced that the universe hates her.
–––––
When she comes back downstairs (in sweatpants and a hoodie, since they are obviously not going anywhere), she finds Rachel in the kitchen, drinking her morning smoothie and happily conversing with her fathers. She looks to Quinn and smiles, before gesturing to the steaming mug on the counter next to her. Quinn accepts it gladly, taking a sip and screwing her eyes shut, trying to regroup.
"Feeling better?" Rachel asks with a kind smile, when she opens her eyes.
Quinn almost nods, but then she remembers: this week, she's given her girlfriend a concussion, a near-panic attack, food poisoning, insulted her, and although she doesn't quite remember the events of Thursday night, she thinks she might have puked on her. And now the one thing that was supposed to make her happy is ruined. She puts her coffee down and buries her the sleeve of her sweatshirt, trying desperately to hide the fact that her face has crumpled miserably and she is seconds away from tears. This was not part of her plan. At all.
Rachel gathers Quinn in her arms and places a kiss to her cheek. "What's wrong, Quinn?"
"We can't go to Columbus," she announces sullenly.
"What were we going to do in Columbus?" Rachel probes, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Sing-along Sound of Music," Quinn replies sadly. When Rachel pulls back and grins wildly, Quinn frowns. "Don't smile! It's not happening!" she snaps.
"But that was plan? You were going to take me to Columbus to sing-along Sound of Music?"
Quinn nods, and in turn, Rachel squeals. "That's amazing," she says. "I can't believe you thought of that! It's perfect! Not that it surprises me that you came up with a perfect gift, but, I just…it's perfect."
"Yeah, well, hopefully it's the thought that counts, because it's not happening." Quinn hates that she's in such a bad mood on Rachel's birthday, but this is ridiculous and she can't even begin to put on a happy face. Not even for her adorable girlfriend, who is currently bouncing up and down at the mere thought of a gift that she's not even getting anymore.
"It is, Quinn," Rachel says brightly. "And now that I know that you'd be willing to accompany me to things of that nature, I can buy season tickets for Broadway in Columbus! Stomp is coming in January!"
Rachel looks to her fathers with a wide grin and her fingers weaved together in a pleading gesture.
"My wallet is in our armoire," Hiram says with a good-natured roll of his eyes.
"Thank you!" Rachel says, nearly breathless with excitement, before taking off toward the stairs. "This is the best birthday ever!"
She once again leaves Quinn standing alone, still convinced that the universe hates her, but considering now that Rachel's blind adoration might make up for it.
–––––
Many hours later, after a day of snowball fights, cuddling by the fireplace, multiple board games, more cuddling, an impromptu sing off between Rachel and Leroy, and even more cuddling, they are curled up on the couch, with Sound of Musicplaying on the television across the room. They're only forty-five minutes into the movie, and Rachel is already fading fast; this is unsurprising, as it's almost ten o'clock and Quinn has never seen Rachel fully conscious past nine. Still, she insisted that they have their own sing-along tonight, and she was just so adorably excited that Quinn could do nothing but acquiesce.
When Rachel starts lightly snoring shortly after Maria starts singing about her favorite things, Quinn begins to pull away from the brunette so that she can turn the film off and get her girl to bed.
"Stay with me," Rachel mumbles, pulling Quinn closer again and nuzzling against her neck. "You are a few of my favorite things."
"Just a few, huh?" Quinn says with a smirk. "Truthfully, after this week, I think I'm lucky to be counted among your favorite things at all."
"You are all of my favorite things, Quinn Fabray," Rachel says quietly, opening her eyes and staring directly into Quinn's. "Don't even let yourself think differently. This week has been perfect because I've spent it with you." Her eyes are already closed again by the time she finishes the sentence.
Quinn feels heat spread across her face, and she can't help but bite her lip bashfully; leave it to Rachel to woo her while half-asleep. "Let's go upstairs, birthday girl," she whispers. "You're exhausted."
Rachel's eyes snap open again. "They haven't done The Lonely Goatherd yet! That's my favorite part. One of my vocal instructors once told me that my yodeling skills are comparable, if not superior, to Julie Andrews'," she says, hunkering down in the cushions.
Quinn doesn't press the matter further, because now she's pretty sure she wants to hear her girlfriend out-yodel Julie Andrews before the night is over.
"You can fast-forward to that part if you want, though," Rachel murmurs, resting her head on Quinn's shoulder and suppressing a yawn. "If you're tired."
"I'm good," Quinn says. "I'll wake you when it's time."
"Mmkay," Rachel says with a nod. "Oh, hey, Quinn?"
"Yes?"
"This has been fun, but think I should resume my position as executive activities planner during Birthday Week next year."
Quinn laughs. "Me too, babe. Me too."
Rachel's response doesn't resemble a single word found in the English dictionary, and within the minute, she is fast asleep. Quinn pauses the movie and turns the TV off a few minutes later, and snuggles closer to the smaller girl. They can yodel tomorrow.
That night, Quinn has nightmares involving the multiple different ways she might accidentally destroy the television and/or the collector's edition Sound of Music DVD before they get to watch Rachel's favorite part. She jerks awake around three in the morning, after a particularly stressful dream where she somehow manages to launch the disc across the room and right into Rachel, who keels over on the spot.
After making sure that Rachel hasn't been killed by an airborne DVD, she takes a deep breath and sinks back into the couch cushion. She really, truly loves her girlfriend and thanks God for her existence every single day, but birthday week? Can suck it.