A/N: WOW. I mean, seriously - EPIC WOW. Over 50 reviews for two chapters? Really, you guys? Really? I'm honored. Seriously, totally floored and honored and humbled and just... there are not enough words to explain or even begin to express how thankful I am. And I know a LOT of words. Really, it's a thing. My friends jokingly refer to me as the Human Thesaurus sometimes, and it's awkward, but it's one of those things you just have to grow into. But now I'm rambling, so, as thanks, here's a shiny new chapter! It's a little cute, a little lovely, and perhaps a little sexy. But only a little! Quinn isn't the only tease up in here. Enjoy, and as always, your reviews make me one happy fic writer, so keep them a comin'!


March

I always loved the beginnings of Spring. Even in California, which seemed like the land of endless summer, there was something about the psychological effects of Spring. It brought everything back to life, made everything new again, even if it wasn't as drastic a change seasonally as I was used to from living in Ohio and New York. California was more mild seasonally, but whenever people started talking about the changes of Spring, and I saw the calendar change, I felt a new hope, and a new sense of awakening flood my system. It lifted my spirits and brightened my moods. I could feel the joy of Spring, specifically on one day when Quinn and I went to San Francisco for a little weekend getaway. We were walking along the bay, letting the water hit our feet and soaking up the sun, thankful to be on a different span of beach than we were used to in the southern part of the state. Quinn was running a few paces ahead of me, camera in hand, taking pictures of random people, birds, waves, water, sand, and even shooting a few shots over her shoulder, determined on getting candid shots of me to add to her portfolio.

Her personal collection only, she promised, but I wouldn't have cared either way. My agent might have cared. My fans might have raised an eyebrow or two, but I certainly didn't care. The smile on Quinn's face when she was in photographer mode was unlike anything I had seen, and when she got that carefree look of utter joy, I knew there was nothing in the world I could have denied her. Not a photograph, not a million dollars, not the keys to my kingdom; there wasn't a single "no" I could have given her.

"Rachel!" Quinn called, laughter permeating every inch of her voice as she spoke. She was running backwards, somehow managing to keep her balance, and had the camera trained on me. I smiled and laughed along with her. "Rachel, you can't keep looking at the camera! This isn't the red carpet!"

I laughed again, then dropped my eyes down toward the sand. I wasn't sure where she wanted me to look, then, if not at her. The ocean was beautiful, the waves were coming in strong, the sun was shining: overall, it was a gorgeous day. Surely there would have been something that caught my eye, right? Well, truth be told, there was, but it would go against Quinn's wishes to not look at the camera to keep my eye on its current focal point. Quinn was attached to that camera, and my eyes were, as usual, locked on Quinn. She was my favorite mystery, and was slowly becoming my favorite person. We had taken steps, albeit small ones since that night at the bar when we almost kissed. We still hadn't kissed. I hadn't been brave enough to try again, and Quinn was likely waiting for me. I wasn't sure why she was waiting. If she wanted to kiss me, I was pretty sure she knew that I'd comply. The fact that she hadn't made a move, or insinuated that she wanted me to make another one caused insecurities to settle deep in my gut, made me lost to wonder if maybe, this was Quinn's way of telling me not to cross that bridge of friendship. Because our friendship really was incredible, and like nothing else I had ever known. Quinn was closer to me than any lover, any friend, and all of this had happened in less than three months.

When I was younger, I was always obsessed with the idea of love; specifically, I was obsessed with the idea of true love. I would watch romantic comedies and old romantic black and white films and daydream about when my tall, dark, and handsome leading man would come steal my heart, never asking questions, but never prepared to give it back, either. I started asking questions, grilling my fathers about how someone was supposed to know when it was the "real" thing. They'd laugh, because it was probably strange to see an eight year old asking such serious questions. I remember Leroy (my "Dad") rumpled my hair, despite my complaints and told me: "Rachel, when it's right, it's right. You just know, and you can't help yourself. You can't hold back, you can't fight, you can't do anything but just enjoy the ride."

I had a number of failed relationships throughout my life. Some lasted years, some lasted a mere month or two, but none had given me that feeling of helpless joy that my dad described. I was happy in my past relationships, sure, but deep down, if I really thought about it, there was always something missing that I couldn't pinpoint and put my finger on. Not to mention, none of the guys I dated met my fathers' approval for one reason or the other, which should have been warning signs to begin with. So, I knew my share of heartbreak. However, when the heartbreak came after the ending of a relationship, I always thought that it should have been worse. Who wants heartbreak to hurt more, really? But I did. I remembered the movies where the girl lost her love, or it ended too soon, or one of the lovers would mope and pine for the other in such a manner that I couldn't help but think maybe their heart had been torn from their chest. It had never felt that bad for me in the past. It was a sting, a mild discomfort: a paper cut on the heartbreak scale, every time. I wanted a love that would leave me breathless and hold all the possibility to devastate me. That's how I'd know it was real. I'd enjoy the ride without knowing that I was falling until I had fallen.

"Well, where do you want me to look, Quinn? I can't very well be candid when you're barking orders at me and I know you're trying to take pictures!" I called back, still laughing with my words. I was trying to pretend I was cross with her. It didn't work. It never worked.

"The water's beautiful, Rachel. Look out at the ocean. Skip rocks or something, I don't care. Just stop looking at me," Quinn said, giving her own stern impression and also failing miserably. I chuckled, then picked up a smooth looking stone, shifting it between my fingers and brushing off some of the sand.

"I don't know how to skip rocks, though," I whined.

"You're from Ohio," Quinn teased. "They don't skip rocks in Ohio? I would think that seems like a very Midwestern activity."

"Shut up," I retorted, sticking out my bottom lip for a mild pout. "I wasn't very outdoorsy."

"Surprise, surprise," Quinn teased again. "Go pretend. You're an actress. Act."

Quinn raised the camera, and I looked away before her finger could hit the capture button. I crouched down, finding another stone, then a third, and balanced all three stones in my hand. I walked toward the water, tempted to look over my shoulder at Quinn: was she still taking pictures, or was she just watching? How fair would that be if she could stare at me unobstructed, but I was forbidden? I moved a single stone to my dominant hand and moved my wrist down, and tossed it like one would throw a Frisbee. The stone sailed sideways, then landed in the water with a thump, quickly being swept away with the strong undercurrent.

"Quinn, this isn't working," I protested.

"Keep throwing," Quinn coached.

"Fine."

I picked up the second stone and tried a technique that had my wrist more at an angle. The stone went sideways again and stayed a little flatter against the water but again was demolished by the undertow. I looked back at Quinn, and she lowered the camera. Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked at me, and a small smile played on her perfect lips.

"What?" Quinn asked, taking a few steps back. I advanced toward her, knowing what that look meant, and allowing it to cause my train of thought to reach a sensible conclusion. "Rachel, why are you looking at me that way? I'm just trying to photograph you."

She looked innocent enough, but I knew better. I had been played.

"You can't skip stones in the ocean, Quinn."

Quinn's smile widened.

"Well, you can, but it's not easy," Quinn replied. "It's easier with calm water, like lakes or ponds. But it's certainly not impossible. I wouldn't give you an impossible task for my own enjoyment."

Her look stayed devious, and I continued advancing. I dropped my third stone, and ran toward her, full sprint. She reacted too late, and barely got three steps ahead of me before I caught up, grabbing her around the waist and spinning us from the momentum. We were both laughing like crazed fools, and my heart almost hurt from how much joy I contained in that very moment.

"Drop your camera, Miss," I whispered against her neck, just beneath her ear. I thought I felt her shiver, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I felt it.

"Someone will steal it," Quinn whined softly. "And there's sand."

"It's a beach. Naturally, there would be sand, and nobody's going to steal your camera."

"Someone might steal it," Quinn said. "And the shots were probably pretty good."

"So you're not worried about the actual camera so much as the film?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. Because if someone stole my camera because you were distracting me and taking my attention away from my art project, then you would just have to buy me a new one," Quinn said, her tone even and matter-of-fact.

"This is an art project?" I asked. "For what? You never mentioned any art project."

"Well, it was going to be surprise," Quinn retorted. "But you just have to keep asking questions and pushing me."

"I'll drop it," I said instantly, holding my hands up and adopting an innocent expression. "I like surprises. So please, don't allow me to badger you any further. We'll forget this ever happened."

"Hmm, okay," Quinn said, and I barely noticed she was backing away from my embrace before she was almost completely finished with her task of taking off her cardigan and placing it on top of the sand to cushion her precious camera. Once the camera was in place, she moved back toward me and leaned forward, moving her lips right against the nape of my neck. Unmistakably, I did shiver.

"Sucker," she whispered before she sprinted toward the ocean, running and kicking up sand everywhere as she left me in her dust.

"Quinn, wait!" I called, then chased her into the waves with abandon. "We're not wearing swimsuits! And it's probably freezing!"

"I don't care, it's fun!" Quinn called back. She ran into the water until it covered her knees. Her pants that she had rolled up previously were already starting to get wet at the cuffs, but she walked just a little deeper. "And it's only a little cold. You'll be fine, come join me!"

"But I don't have a swimsuit!"

"Neither do I!" Quinn said. "Clothes will dry. That's what all this sunshine is for! Now come on, Rachel Berry, or are you chicken?"

I froze in my tracks. How dare she call me out like that? Like I didn't have the courage to jump into a perfectly fine ocean just because it was cold enough to give me frostbite.

So I ran. I sprinted, moving as fast as my legs (which were thankfully long for my short stature) would take me, splashing in the water moments later. I made sure to fling a few well-placed splashes directly at Quinn, who held up her arms as if it would ward off my onslaught. She was laughing, then started splashing me back, and I tried to take cover, but couldn't, and we were both soaked within minutes.

I barely felt the cold until we were standing still and wet clumps of my hair stuck to my forehead. I knew I probably looked a mess, but I was hoping it was at least a hot mess. Quinn looked at me, and she tilted her head to the side in that very Quinn way and pursed her lips. I watched her eyes narrow, just a little bit, and her brow furrowed a second later.

"You're so going to pay for this later, Fabray," I said, attempting to sound indignant. Menacing, perhaps. She didn't fall for it, either way. She smirked at me and sent another hearty splash between the distance of our bodies and connected with incredible accuracy.

"Oh, really?" Quinn teased, arching a perfect eyebrow defiantly. That look always got my attention. All of my attention. "I'm going to pay for showing you some harmless, carefree fun that you probably haven't experienced in, I don't know, years?"

"What makes you think I don't have fun? I have fun. I have lots of fun."

Quinn took a few steps closer, and suddenly, the water didn't feel so cold.

"You work. You go to events, galas, charity auctions, photo shoots. You pal around with your cast-mates and co-stars, but let's face it, most of them annoy you. Every now and then you'll get a relaxing spa day or you'll go see a movie that you've actually wanted to see with a friend, but you're always looking over your shoulder, waiting for paparazzi to strike. But today, I haven't seen you do that. Do you realize that? Not even once."

She was right. She was always right. I hadn't thought about the possibility of someone noticing me, I hadn't been wearing a disguise of any kind. I had been completely out in the open, splashing around on a very public beach in a very open area with a very wonderful, lively girl. My publicist would kill me.

"You make my life sound so dull, Quinn. When really it's..."

"Structured," she said, cutting me off. "Regimented. You're so careful, controlled, and it's beautiful and admirable, but when I met you in that coffee shop, you looked at me like you wanted me to release you from all of it. You wanted me to help you, I don't know, find the fun a little? We needed each other."

The conversation flipped so quickly, that I hadn't even seen it coming. It caught me by surprise, in a way that only Quinn could pull off. The girl could go from zero to a thousand in the blink of an eye, and it stunned me and captivated me every single time.

But I didn't want to be having this conversation. I didn't want Quinn to know exactly how much I felt that I needed her, because it would make me look pathetic, and Rachel Berry wasn't pathetic. I hadn't been pathetic since Lima, since high school, since everyone saw me as an outsider who had bigger dreams than she knew how to cash. But I cashed them. I cashed all of them, and they were probably staring at my shadow in stunned silence. That thought kept me strong, kept me powerful, kept me motivated, and I promised myself when I started to launch my career that I would never allow that girl to show her face again. Rachel Berry was a powerhouse these days, not a meek, starry-eyed teen with an overly romanticized view of the world and a song in her pocket.

Quinn smiled at me, gently, and I knew it wasn't meant to be anything but one of her many accurate assessments that brought me comfort in how well she knew me. She wouldn't see me as pathetic. She probably would have loved the old Rachel Berry. Perhaps even more than Hollywood Rachel. That was, if she did love Hollywood Rachel. It was another of my assumptions that I tried to stay away from, lest I become that old, starry-eyed teenager once more.

"What happened to carefree fun, huh?" I teased, hoping this would be enough to throw her off the scent. But, with Quinn, it rarely was. Those tricks hardly ever worked; the girl was like a dog with a damn bone, and once she got a whiff of something remotely interesting, she teased and coaxed and smiled and cajoled until even the most iron-willed people would crumble and offer her anything she wanted. It wasn't forceful, her way of doing things. It was remarkably gentle, because of her innate ability to earn the trust of anything and anyone that crossed her path.

"Who says this isn't carefree?" Quinn asked softly. "I'm having a wonderful time with you, Rachel."

She purred my name. She purred it, and I was instantly lost. No human should be so powerful, ever.

Maybe it was the sunlight hitting her eyes and causing all the green to reflect across the surface. Another possibility that it was the moment, how close she was standing, how fresh the air was, and how that smile always got underneath my skin, burrowing deep and taking prisoners. I found myself with the courage to reach for her again, just like I had once before, when I was rebuffed. Quinn stayed still, and I waded through the water that separated us until I was looking up at her, since she had a slight height advantage.

I cupped her cheek with my hand, and leaned in until only a whisper lingered between us. I waited for her to stop me. I waited for one of those hands to return to my face and delay my path, delaying what I felt was inevitable yet again. She didn't. She just looked at me, an unmistakable challenge laced hand-in-hand with unbridled affection surging through those perfect eyes. I couldn't help myself. She made me weak. She made me weak in ways I never wanted to be weak, but made it so I didn't fear the consequences. I didn't think long enough to fear them. I only considered negative courses of action long enough to know with absolute certainly that she would catch me.

This time, it was my turn to purr, to set her senses on fire for a change.

"Oh, I'll show you carefree, Quinn."

I hooked my index finger under her chin and guided her lips to mine, stroking those chiseled, high cheekbones with my thumb an instant after our lips met. This wasn't an overly passionate kiss we shared. It was, in my opinion, the way all good first kisses should be. It was slow, tentative, and exploratory in its sweetness and understated emotion. Quinn's lips reacted to mine like I had brought them back to life after a long slumber, and we traced one another. Tongues weren't needed, just the feel of her lips sliding along mine, leading then following and leading again was enough, more than enough. Her hand moved to my hip and pulled me in a little closer, but in a way that was different than any man had ever kissed me. It wasn't commanding, and it wasn't out of a need to possess. She just wanted me close to her. She wanted to feel my body next to hers. She did this even when we weren't kissing. I wondered, for a moment, if she would catch on that I noticed how her hand always seemed to brush against mine when we walked. If I knew how her hand would rest lightly on my lower back when we were standing in line, or she was moving to walk around me. I caught every nuance, every linger that lasted a moment too long. I understood Quinn's need to be close to me, because I had come to crave that closeness, and furthermore, had become dependent on it. I missed her touches when they didn't linger. I felt a pang of disappointment when she wasn't staring at me, even innocently. I found myself waiting for that simple, almost accidental brush of her hand along the back of mine.

Quinn sighed as we parted, and her eyes remained closed for another moment. She spoke without opening them.

"That was the moment I was waiting for," she said simply.

I laughed and allowed my arms to encircle her slender waist. I kissed her chin, then mewled in the back of my throat, wordlessly demanding her attention, and she maneuvered forward, even with her eyes closed, and managed to place a perfectly placed kiss to the bridge of my nose. She nuzzled me there, then pulled me in so I was nestled against her, lips happily resting in the hollow of her throat.

"The water's starting to feel cold," I commented after we stood there for a few more minutes in complete silence. It was a fleeting thought, but I always had the propensity to speak my mind without a filter.

"It's the perfect moment, Rachel. There's no such thing as cold water here," Quinn replied, and I could feel her voice rumble against my lips. I sighed, content, and realized that she was right again. It was funny how she could change the temperature of the water like that. Or at least, make my mind believe that it had changed, since that was exactly what it felt like. Quinn was magical.

I fidgeted in her arms when the cold returned, and she kissed me again, sliding her tongue against my bottom lip this time, but teasing me with entrance by staying away from taking that step. I wanted her to deepen the kiss, and I tried, but she would linger a moment, then retreat a split second later. Nobody had ever kissed me the way Quinn did. By our second kiss, she had already perfected a technique of giving me exactly what I wanted, then teasing what I wanted even more and keeping me constantly on edge, wanton and needy, until I found myself digging my fingertips into her hips just a little. I whimpered when she withdrew, offering me the tiniest scrape of her teeth against my lip as a consolation prize, and looked up at her through hooded eyes.

"Let's get back to dry land, shall we?"

"But you're so happy with being in the perfect moment and now so am I," I replied.

Quinn laughed and hugged me. I breathed her in, loving the smell of salt and sunshine more in that moment than I ever had previously.

"Our stuff is just waiting to be stolen. I was keeping an eye on it before, but now I find myself pleasantly distracted by how damn beautiful you are," Quinn said, and I grinned widely.

I gasped, adding to the playful feeling that was building in my chest.

"You swore!"

"I did," Quinn said. "Don't get used to it."

When she untangled herself from me, I felt the loss, but I still followed her all the way to shore. For me, it was quite the view. She leaned down to pick up the camera, and her jeans were soaked all the way to her knees, starting to wick up to her mid-thighs. Her hair was messy and disheveled, slightly frizzy from the moisture in the air and developing a natural wave that framed her face. I bent over next to her and rolled my pants up a little higher, even though they were starting to constrict my legs.

"I think I brought a skirt with me. It's in a bag in my car. I might have an extra pair of pants, too, if you want," I said, trying to be thoughtful. Quinn snapped a few more pictures, and I blushed at the thought that she was capturing me in vulnerable positions. But really, when wasn't I vulnerable with her?

"Your pants would be shorts on me," Quinn said with a playful, harmless chuckle. "But thank you for offering. These will dry."

"I'm not that short!" I argued.

"You're delightfully short," Quinn said decisively. "Now let's get back to the car so you can change into that skirt. I like you in skirts."

I raised an eyebrow; I loved how kissing her had seemingly opened up an entire new set of boundaries. Now she was flirting and I loved it. I had never seen her be overly affectionate or overly flirtatious. She was always shrouded behind this iron will and steeled control. I almost wondered what was so torturous that she held back so much, but now, the floodgates were open, and if I had been crazy about her before, I knew now that I was absolutely, completely doomed.

"I'll wear skirts every single day," I suggested.

"You'll kill me if you do."

"Surely I wouldn't have that profound effect on you," I retorted, smirking when she caught up to my pace, settling her naturally lazy stride to my quick, brisk "city walk." Her camera was carefully perched around her neck by the thick, padded strap, and a second later, her hand was reaching out for mine. It wasn't the same careful brush I was used to. No, this was deliberate; her fingers were seeking mine out, wanting and encouraging me to tangle them together, like intricately woven strands that belonged to the same tapestry.

I was well aware that I couldn't deny her anything, and I did not want to deny her this. I didn't want to deny myself, either. Not at all. The warmth of her hand enveloped mine and I looked down for a moment, wanting to see the physical proof that we looked amazing together. Which we did, naturally. We were suited wonderfully, a perfect contrast. A casting director couldn't have fit a better pair together. This much, I knew from experience.

We got to my car, and I rummaged through my bag for a few, brief seconds before I found the skirt that I was hoping was hidden among my numerous cosmetic products, sunscreen, a hairbrush, cell phone charger, random CDs, and my essentials that were scattered about in my large Coach bag. It was a little wrinkled, but it was free-flowing cotton, so I knew that with enough time, the breeze would work its magic. Besides, a little wrinkle here and there would only do to cement me as a Bohemian beauty on the arm of my hipster... girlfriend?

I looked at Quinn, then looked back down at our intertwined hands. It was too soon for labels, I decided. This, whatever it was, was better than anything I'd known my entire life and it was still so new. I didn't want to ruin it by premature labeling. That was the old Rachel's method of operation.

"Found it!" I said, raising the skirt high above my head like a treasured trophy. Quinn smirked, then turned around, like the faithful, respectable thing she was. "Quinn, wha-?"

"You're changing. I'm being courteous," she replied.

"I'm changing in a car near a public beach. There are women in bikinis that are more scantily clad than I'm about to be, and also, you're a girl, too," I argued. Why did I care so much, anyway?

"Right, but it's different," Quinn replied. I sighed, knowing that we were back in the land of enigma and clouded answers. If it wasn't so endearing, I might have gotten annoyed. But again, magic Quinn kept me from getting to that point of complete frustration.

I opened one of the back doors and climbed into the backseat, shifting slightly on the seat to remove my soaked jeans and saw that Quinn was still averting her eyes.

"How is it different, exactly?"

"You're a girl that makes me feel things. Lots of things, and out of respect, I'd rather save looking at you whilst scantily clad for a more appropriate context."

"Ooh, big words, you're turning me on," I teased as the jeans finally released my confined legs, leaving me half nude other than my underwear on the cloth backseat of my vehicle. In that moment, I should have really been worried about paparazzi, but Quinn was doubling as an effective body block, so I could at least be grateful for something. I slid the skirt up and over, settling it low and comfortably on my hips and then tapped Quinn on the shoulder.

"Sometimes, I wonder why we're friends. What with you teasing the way you did just then," Quinn said, her trademark smirk fully in place so I'd know without an ounce of doubt that she was kidding.

It was that moment, I think, that I decided that if Quinn was going to play, I was going to play. And I always, always played to win.

I traced my finger along Quinn's collarbone when I stood up to my full height, which would always be shorter than her (not that I minded – quite the opposite, actually), and looked up at her through my long lashes, fluttering them a bit for good measure.

"There's nothing wrong with teasing, Quinn. It's an excellent motivator. Teasing can... tantalize and keep somebody interested for a very, very long time before anything actually reaches a boiling point. Teasing, when done correctly is like extended foreplay, and I don't know about you, but I think foreplay is absolutely delicious. When done correctly, of course."

I kept my voice low on purpose, making her have to lean closer to listen to me, just as she had done so many times before. She thought she had perfected that technique, probably. She likely thought it was hers and hers alone, but I was an actress, and I had learned that sometimes, method acting was one of the most useful things in our toolbox of skills. It was certainly serving me well at that moment.

My finger continued down, slipping just slightly beneath her collar and traveling down past the first two buttons of her shirt that she had left undone to the third, which was left buttoned and continued in that pattern all the way down to the hem, button by glorious button, for decency's sake. I felt her shiver, and I knew it wasn't a mistake or a fluke that time.

"Rachel, what are you doing?"

"I think it should be obvious that I'm teasing you, Quinn," I retorted coyly. "After all, you made me wait for our perfect moment, and I am glad for that. But now, I'm going to make sure you have all sorts of thoughts of, what was the phrase you used? Oh, 'appropriate context' situations where you might have the chance to see me in all sorts of debauched states. Which result from, I hope, those seemingly capable hands you've got."

Quinn gulped, and I removed my hands. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and offered her a playful little wink before grabbing my purse and closing my car door. I noted that she was still frozen in place, a stunned look fixed on her flawless features as I hit the automatic lock on my keyring and started down the beach.

"Where are you going?"

Her voice was strangled and a little weak, but I could still hear it even with the slight distance I had put between us.

"I'm suddenly feeling very warm. I think I saw a food truck down the way, and I'm sure they'll have something to cool me off. Are you coming?"

Quinn nodded, and when she started walking toward me, I started running away.

I made her chase me all the way to the food truck, and was surprised that she managed to keep up pretty well, despite the camera weighing her down and making running awkward.

When we got to the food truck, Quinn enveloped me in her arms from behind. I felt the sun's rays kiss my skin as she kissed my shoulder, and in that moment, I felt everything I loved about spring wash over me.

Rebirth was always such a lovely concept. In that moment, Rachel Berry was reborn.