Quinn handed me my coffee and took a long sip of her own. I kissed her on the cheek and we stared at the arrival boards again, even though we both knew his flight had landed 15 minutes ago. I could have zoned out were it not for Quinn loudly sipping from her cup every few seconds. I turn slowly to look at her in annoyance.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She drops the cup from her lips and sighs. "It's been 8 years."

"He's the one who called you."

She takes another sip. "And I still don't know why."

"You said he wanted to get to know you. To make up for the past."

"Yeah, well, excuse me if I'm skeptical of my father who threw me out on the streets as a pregnant teenager." Her voice has hit that high mark that lets me know I'm on the verge of being yelled at.

"Hey, I dislike your father as much as the next person, but I know..." I grab her hand. "I know how much his approval means to you, even after everything."

She shakes loose of my hand. "It means nothing. He means nothing."

"Then why are we here? Why are we picking him up for a weekend of uncomfortable conversations and awkward silences?"

"Because." She stares back up at the screen as though it will tell her something new.

"Because he's still your father. Just like my grandmother is still mi abuela."

"You don't even speak to her."

"On the contrary, she does not speak to me. I've made it clear that I'm willing to welcome her back anytime she'd like. I, for one, am surprised he's come around this quickly, especially with you and I being together."

"Apparently his new church is more accepting of different lifestyles. I'm positive it's his younger girlfriend though." I shake my head.

"Well, whatever the reason, this is a good thing, Quinn."

She takes another speedy sip. "Don't be so sure."

Her father comes through the exit in front of everyone and I'm startled at how tough the years can be. Gray hair has replaced the blonde I remember.

Quinn too, seems startled by his appearance, by the obvious stretch of time they'd lost so visibly on display. When we were younger she always greeted him with an exuberant 'Daddy!', but now all she can muster is a stoic, "Hello, Dad."

He hugs her as though he hadn't shattered her favorite ballerina jewelry box on the floor as she left that night - the music box spurred to play a tortured, tempo-less version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Her arms remain at her side and I stand back a second, letting them have a moment. Quinn doesn't seem to want that though and she presses into his arms to separate them.

"You remember Santana." I reach out to shake his hand, but he pulls me into a hug.

"Hello, again, Mr. Fabray."

"Santana! I always liked your spirit." He slaps me on the back a few times.

"That's funny, if I recall correctly, you said she was the slut who got me into this mess when I told you I was pregnant."

Her father sobers. "Well that was a long time ago, Quinn. I said a lot of hurtful things I didn't mean back then. I apologize for saying that, Santana."

I lift my eyebrows and shoulders simultaneously with a smile. "Can't say it wasn't true at the time, but apology accepted nonetheless, Mr. Fabray."

"Please, call me Russell. You're not little girls anymore."

"Russell." I say to assure him.

Quinn is uninterested in our conversation. "Did you check a bag, Dad?"

"No, I travel light these days."

"Good. Let's get out of here before rush hour hits."

We make it back to our place just before 7 and I start to cook dinner, while Quinn acclimates her father.

He tries repeatedly to engage her, but she's been sticking to mostly one word answers since he got here.

I call out to her. "Quinn, I could use a hand in the kitchen."

She turns the corner, irritation pouring off of her. "What do you need?"

I stop stirring and turn to her, placing my hands on her shoulders. "I need you to perk the fuck up. Your dad is really trying in there and you're not giving him anything."

"Why are you defending him?! He hated you in high school. Hate. And now he's walking around our apartment complimenting pictures of us and asking about our jobs. I can't stand it."

"Why?" It's not that Quinn is wrong, but I don't think there's anything he could be doing right now that would please her.

"Why what? You can't just ignore me for 8 years and then act like nothing's wrong."

"How should he act? Should he be crying? Should he crawl across the rug at your feet?"

"Maybe he should! You're my girlfriend, Santana! Why are you taking his side!"

"I'm not. I'm just saying he's here. He's trying. You could say more than yes and no."

"Quinn, what's that girl you two hated, Rebecca? What's she doing now?"Her father yells from the living room and I can imagine the picture he must be looking at.

"Rachel, Dad! Her name's Rachel. She's performing in Santori on Broadway." She says the next part to me only, resentful, but calm. "We became friends after you threw me out."

"Always knew she was a talent! Even with that nose."

I kiss her on the cheek and shove her back towards the living room. I can hear the faint hum of their conversation as I finish sauteing the vegetables.

"Dinner's ready!" I shout to the other room and grab a few plates to bring to the table.

We settle in and after a few bites, Mr. Fabray smiles brightly at me.

"Wow, Santana. I should have known you'd be a great cook. Your mother always made a delicious meal."

"Taught me everything I know!"

"So, tell me, how did uh, how did you and Quinn. Last I remember-"

I decide to save him. "In college. We got together in college."

"I mean I saw the ads on tv. I want you to know I voted for Sue, Santana." Quinn rolls her eyes and I fight a smirk at his misplaced allegiance. "So I, uh, I knew that you...well, your predilection. Quinn here though, always had her eye on the football players - that idiot, Muck."

"Puck. His name is Noah Puckerman."

"Whatever his name is, I wish Quinn had realized it was you she wanted back then."

Quinn can't contain herself. "Are you saying you wouldn't have kicked me out if I was in a lesbian relationship with Santana in high school, because you're full of shit, daddy! I would have been out on my ass even faster!"

"Now, Quinn-"

"Now Quinn-nothing! I'm trying to be civil here, Russell, but I won't have you spout lies to Santana. I won't have you convince her that you're anything other than a terrible, cruel man. You can't rewrite what you've done."

Russell places his napkin on the table before lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I know that I can't change what I've done, baby, but I'm trying to start over. I just want you to see that I'm not the man I was. I can be a father to you." Quinn seems unimpressed, so he takes it up a notch. "I'd like to walk you down the aisle someday, to be the one who hands you to Santana."

I'm proud that my eyes only widen a little – we're not remotely engaged.

"Shut up, will you!" Quinn goes as red as I've ever seen her. "Santana and I...it's not like...she's not my fiance."

"I'm sorry, it's just you said college. That's got to be at least, what? 4 years."

"5" I share just to have something to say.

"5? You two might as well be common law married. You live together. What's the hold up?"

Quinn gnaws on her roll. "That's none of your business."

Russell leans back in his chair and I glance between them. "I suppose it isn't. You're right, Quinn. I don't deserve to share in your life, but I'd like to, if you'll have me?"

"I'll just go grab dessert." I get up from the table and move into the kitchen swiftly.

When I return they've reached some sort of truce because Quinn is not yelling.

Russell tells us about his new job in Florida and how happy he is with Samantha, his girlfriend. I ask lots of questions and I can tell he appreciates the olive branch, since Quinn has yet to extend it.

We climb into bed after saying our good-nights and I turn off the bedside lamp. I sink into the mattress, happy for the silence.

"You weren't a slut in high school."

"Did you think that would keep me up?" I ask, my voice filled with humor. When she doesn't respond I take her more seriously. "What's on your mind?"

"It's just, how can you shrug it off like that?"

"Quinn, that was a long time ago. We all thought and said different things. I can't say I wasn't cruel myself."

"But we were children, it's different."

"It is," I sigh, "but maybe your dad just needed more time to grow up."

It's silent for a while, just our breathing can be heard.

"Maybe."

I turn over and hold her close, pressing my lips to her temple as she stares up at the ceiling.

"I love you."

She turns her face to kiss my lips. "I love you too."

Quinn has a day planned of touring her father all over the city that has Rachel written all over it. No literally. She's typed up a schedule for us to follow on her signature stationary and I would be surprised if any other Broadway phenom had done this, but not Rachel. The moment she heard Mr. Fabray was coming she immediately began compiling a list of places she loves to take her fathers. It had to be amended of course, since not everyone has a Berry sensibility, but I could still appreciate the effort.

As we rounded out our evening at Jim's Steakhouse, I had to pat myself on the back. They hadn't fought all day and at times I could even see that glow of love the daddy-daughter duo once had.

Quinn had adored her father when I met her and she was his golden child. Until the moment that Cheerios skirt became a stitch too tight it wouldn't have been false to say they were each others' favorite people.

I knew Quinn wasn't apologizing for her father last night. She was apologizing for loving him so much that his ideas were her own back then. She only realized how dangerous that could be when those razor sharp insults were thrown her way – when she couldn't disentangle what he thought of her from what she thought of herself.

Quinn excuses herself to use the restroom as Russell waves the waiter over to refill his glass.

"Quinn's right. I didn't speak very highly of you all those years ago, Santana."

"I'm not sure I spoke very highly of you either, Mr. Fabray. I think 'hypocrite asshole' was a common placeholder for your name." I take a sip of my wine. "Perhaps we're even."

"It's Russell." He corrects. "Or hypocrite asshole. Whichever you prefer."

Our laughter dies down. "She's in love with you, you know."

"Well, I'm in love with her too."

"When she was a little girl she would play with her Barbies for hours and hours, running all over the house, harassing me and her mother, brushing their hair and changing their clothes...she made a , what do they call it?" He gestures with his hands, but only he can see what the hell he is making. "...a ummm, a gazebo, out of popsicle sticks. With the stains and everything – glued it together and put these dandelions all over the roof. It was too short, they couldn't go inside, but she would have them stand out front – Barbie and Ken – and she would marry them. She'd ask me the words all the time – she'd always say 'And death do us part' I thought that was funny, ya know, instead of 'Until'." He sighs, letting go of the memory. "I guess what I'm getting at is, she may not say it, Santana, but my daughter wants to be married and how she is with you..."

Quinn leans in to kiss me on my cheek. "What did I miss?"

I'm still too stunned by what Mr. Fabray was alluding to.

"Oh, nothing. I was just telling her about that summer you tore into Mrs. Fisher's garden chasing that rabbit and trampled her tulips."

"I said I was sorry!" She turns towards me to plead her case. "It was a white bunny. I was only 5!"

I quirk my brow at her skeptically. "Alright, then, Alice."

Russell laughs, "We called her that for weeks! She hated it!"

"Whatever, I suppose there are worse stories you could've told"

I perk up. "Really?"

Quinn frowns. "That wasn't an offer. Besides it's late, we should get going."

I'm about to protest since Russell just got his wine, but I notice the cup is near empty. That could explain a lot.

I grab Quinn's coat and hold it up for her to put her arms into. Russell catches my eye and holds my gaze, obviously harkening back to our earlier conversation.

I try to ignore the intensity of what he said – try to shake it off, but what if he's right. We have been together for 5 years.

We climb under the sheets.

"You seemed happier today."

She can't keep the smile from her face. "Did I?"

"You did. I'm glad you're giving this a chance."

"What you said made sense. Maybe he just needed more time. I wish he was like this for my mother though."

"Do you think he could have been?"

"No, it's just. Being kicked out. My parents breaking up. It ruined all my fantasies...about love, about everything."

"About marriage?"

She thinks on it for a second. She seems hesitant to answer. "I mean, I guess. It used to be something I saw myself doing."

"And now?"

"Why are you asking? I saw the look on your face yesterday. You'd sooner jump off a cliff than get married."

"That's not true. I was just surprised."

"If by 'surprised' you mean 'frightened', then yeah, you were surprised."

"I've just never thought about it."

Note to self: Never ever, ever, tell your girlfriend that you've never thought about marrying her.

Quinn looks at me for a moment completely offended before turning her back on me and switching off the lamp.

I speak into her hair. "That's not what I meant."

"No, it is what you meant. Goodnight, Santana."

I reach for her shoulder and she leans away from me.

Russell is in the kitchen by the time we walk out of our room the next morning wearing my apron that exclaims in italics 'Muy Caliente!'. Quinn's mother gave it to me and I'm secretly amused that they have the same bad taste.

"Hope you don't mind, I thought I'd make you ladies breakfast for hosting me."

Eggs and bacon sizzle in the pan as toast pops up golden brown. I'm more than pleased to pour myself some hot coffee.

"Thank you, Russell. This is very sweet."

"Yes, thanks, dad."

"It's the least I could do." He turns back to the stove and I reach for Quinn's waist but she steps away from me toward the fridge.

"Did you sleep well, Mr. Fa-, Russell?" I ask while pouring Quinn a cup of coffee.

"I did. Thank you for asking. What about you ladies?"

I can't resist. "Ya know, it was a little cold."

Quinn looks at me with a glare for the hidden complaint as she pours herself some orange juice. She hands her father a cup as well. I pout at being left out.

Mr. Fabray turns off the burners and plates the food . We each take a plate and head into the dining room to sit.

Quinn reaches over to hook a finger around the apron he still wears and Russell blushes, quickly taking it off.

We eat quietly before falling into conversation about the performance art piece Rachel tricked us into seeing where a man in nothing but overalls did ballet all over an abandoned ship yard before dousing himself in black paint. She said it was a Ship Yard Tour.

"What did he say at the end? 'She is..." I can't remember his stupid line.

Russell is cracking up, but fake shouts between breaths, "She is sea-worthy!"

Quinn couldn't remember either. "Right! Right! She is sea-worthy!"

Our laughter settles down and crumbs are all that remains on our plates. Russell wipes at his mouth with his napkin.

"Again, I just wanted to thank you both for welcoming me into your home and giving me a chance. I know this wasn't easy and I know it will continue to be difficult, but I have some news to share that I hope will help."

I look between he and Quinn, scared of what he will say next.

"Samantha and I, we're having a baby! A boy. He's due in November." He can't contain his excitement and the moment he says it I switch my entire focus to Quinn's reaction.

She's shocked at first. That's natural. I'm waiting for it to melt into her next emotion and I'm surprised by what I see.

"That's great news, daddy! Congratulations!"

He's surprised as well. "Really? You mean that? I was so worried. I didn't want you to think this would affect how I feel about you. I know I have possibly been the worst at showing this, but you're my daughter and I love you with all my heart."

"Of course I mean it." I'm still trying to gauge her sincerity.

"He...I want you to be in his life, Quinn. I...to be honest, I've wanted to...to see you for a few years, but it seemed selfish. It is selfish, I recognize that. But I did it for him, I really want him to have you in his life. I had to try."

Mr. Fabray has teared up at this admission and Quinn is equally moved.

"You're sure I won't be a bad influence?" For all he's displayed here this weekend, she still doesn't believe he's changed. I can't say I blame her.

His face is mottled with tears and he wipes them away to beam with pride.

"You'll be the best influence! Samantha and I. We're so excited to have you in his life. His older sister is a Yale graduate! She's beautiful and smart and married to... I mean, I'm sorry, with someone beautiful and smart. Not to mention, who could be cooler than an older sister in New York!"

Quinn wipes at her tears and laughs, astonished. "A little brother?!"

"You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that you want him in your life, Quinn. I hope this means I can start to be in your life too."

I'm glad he recognizes the difference.

I think she appreciates it too. "We have a long road ahead of us, but this is a great place to start."

He stands to hug her and she does the same. Russell reaches out for me after a moment and I join the group hug, a little awkwardly.

"This is a new beginning!" Mr. Fabray announces and for once I think Quinn believes him.

We clean up after breakfast and Russell packs up his things for the trip home. All of our conversations have naturally shifted to Samantha and the baby – baby showers, names, prenatal care – which I had somehow forgotten Quinn knows quite a bit about.

I hug Russell and hop back into the driver's seat to keep the police from yelling at us. I can see Russell embrace Quinn tightly then lean back to say something to her. She listens and nods before he kisses her nose and squeezes her once more.

She hops back in the car after he goes through the sliding doors and I put my hand on her thigh.

"Big sister!"

She smiles at me and covers my hand. I decide it's best to leave it at that. As exciting as this is, I'm sure she is experiencing some level of mixed emotions.

We stop to go grocery shopping and to pick up Quinn's dry cleaning, before deciding we'd rather do carry-out than cook any of the food we just bought. We settle on Thai and after unloading the car, we're finally back at the dinner table.

She is a little quiet, but I decide that's normal and leave her be.

Towards the end of dinner, her bites slow and she puts her fork down to look up at me.

"You've really never thought about it?"

Mr. Fabray claimed I was smart, but a smart person would have taken all this baby-distraction as an opportunity to come up with why they told their long time girlfriend that they'd never thought of marrying her. I was not that smart person.

"I don't know. We're gay. It's not even legal." That's what I came up with...real smart.

"That's not the point and you know it."

"I love you, Quinn. I don't want anybody else."

"But you've never thought of marrying me? I've imagined marrying you."

I suppose I should have inferred that she had thought of me in that way given her offense, but I hadn't.

"You have?" I'm embarrassed that I sound so very insecure right now, but it also reveals the root of why I had never thought about it.

Her father's story about the Barbies and the popsicle shack were easy for me to imagine, but where did I fit into that fantasy? I'm no Princess Charming, never have been.

I had seen Quinn struggle with her old feelings for me this weekend - reconciling how she could have thought so terribly of the person she now loved, but I had brushed it aside as something she needed to deal with. I was sure I had dealt with already – In truth, I had just ignored that part of our relationship all these years. Pretended that if she was with me now, then it didn't matter.

It was blocking me from imagining forever though.

Tears spring to her eyes for the second time today and unfortunately, with me, they aren't happy.

"You think that's easy for me to tell you after you looked like a deer in headlights when my dad mentioned being engaged?"

I'm deep diving in long held feelings of inadequacy with her and she's swimming on the surface.

"Quinn, I just said I love you. That I don't want anybody else. It isn't that I don't want to be with you forever, I just-"

"You just can't imagine marrying me?!"

I need her to come down here with me.

"Let me finish! You hated me! You hated me! And don't say I hated you too, you know it isn't true." Quinn is silenced by my sudden emotion, by the drudging up of the past. "You think I can just forget that?"

I can see that she's here with me now.

"But I love you. You don't believe me? We've been together for five years. My father comes here for a weekend and suddenly I'm Quinn Fabray, HBIC, to you again?"

"I'm just telling you why, Quinn. I haven't imagined us married because I never thought you had."

She just stares at me and I don't like it. I stand up and start to clear the table. I grab her plate and glass and she just watches me.

I rinse each item before stacking them in the dish washer and drying my hands. I feel exhausted. This weekend was already so much and now Quinn and I are in a fight I didn't see coming. A fight that could be bigger than any we've ever had.

I'm under the covers with my reading glasses on, finally getting to the good part of this book, when she comes in from watching the nightly news. I don't know why she watches it, you can find out everything they talk about and more with the click of a button and yet she sits through an hour of it every night. Maybe it's a Fabray thing. Her dad did it with her the last two nights.

She stands in front of the bed and I'm forced to put my book down after throwing in a bookmark.

I watch her as she reaches into the closet and pulls out a shoe box from the top, opens the lid and pulls out something before putting it back. I roll my eyes at her for making me put my book down for this, but when she turns back to me there's a look I've never seen on her face.

She rounds the bed and I can suddenly see that what she has is an even smaller box, the tiniest of boxes. The kind only used for one thing. She gets down on one knee beside the bed and opens it towards me.

"Santana Lopez, will you marry me?"

I never played Barbies. I always got an off color dress in that swirl game where you married Brad Pitt. My abuela told my mother in a fit of cruelty that I'd never be a bride.

But here I was, in my well-worn Cheerios National Championship t-shirt, my hair a mess and my glasses perched imperfectly on my nose having all my dreams I never knew I had fulfilled.

Quinn looks so scared, so hopeful, and I couldn't have imagined this moment because it's more than my heart could have handled.

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you!"

I practically fall on top of her as I leap out of the covers to hug her, completely ignoring the ring – it was beautiful, but who cares.

I was marrying Quinn Fabray.