Rachel's fathers eye each other warily as their daughter stares intently at the clock hanging next to the fridge. It's been a while since they've seen her so agitated that she's simultaneously drumming her fingers on the dining table, biting the nails on her other hand, tapping one foot against the hardwood floor and dicing the other rhythmlessly up and down.
As soon as the horn sounds outside, Rachel leaps out of her chair, presses a kiss to both of her father's cheeks and flies out of the house.
"Ready?" Kurt asks, after she's fastened her seatbelt. Unable to form words through her nervous state, she settles for nodding furiously. He places his hand on top of hers and squeezes it firmly. They'd spent the plane journey from New York the night before reconciling over glasses of champagne until being shushed by a person in the next row.
Just as Kurt is pulling away from Rachel's house, her phone springs to life. She makes a frustrated noise as she punches the screen with her index finger. Kurt intervenes before she cracks the screen and answers the phone.
"Santana?" he asks. "Yeah, we're just leaving now. She's a little nervous. I'm not sure if she's capable of talking…" Rachel sighs and reaches for the phone.
"I can talk," she says and Santana laughs. "I wish you guys were here."
"And I wish that I didn't have a judge breathing down my neck. I have to be in court in fifteen minutes. I don't trust my colleagues enough to let them have this case," Santana says and Rachel pictures her rolling her eyes. "Just tell her that we'll see her soon," Santana pauses. "Give her a hug from me?"
"Of course," Rachel says, nodding furiously again.
"Gotta run," Santana says, clearing her throat and hanging up. Rachel smiles at her phone and drops it into her purse.
Kurt takes the most direct route out of Lima and heads towards the highway.
"Have you got it all planned out?" he asks, glancing sideways. "Slow motion run, big dramatic soundtrack?"
"If I had the time and resources," Rachel begins and Kurt allows himself a smile, pleased to see some of the old Rachel emerging. "What?"
"I'm just trying to imagine Quinn's face if you actually did do that," he says and she makes a face at him, turning to look out the window. They sit in silence for as long as Rachel can manage (two minutes and twenty-eight seconds) before she reaches for the console, flicking through radio stations until she finds one that's playing Broadway hits. "There's a radio station specifically dedicated to Broadway?" Kurt asks incredulously. "In Ohio?"
Rachel stares at him with raised eyebrows.
"How did you not know this?" she asks before launching into a memory from her childhood where she would have to listen to a certain show before going to bed every night.
"Rachel, I get it," Kurt says, interrupting her when she begins to lose pace but he grins.
"What?" she asks exasperatedly.
"It's like we're back in High School," he responds. "Back to when you could ramble on for minutes at a time without pausing for breath. It's really quite shocking that you didn't pass out more." Rachel slugs him softly on the arm. "Ow?"
"I would hit you harder if you weren't driving," Rachel says, folding her arms and smiling as she turns her attention to the passing fields.
xxxxx
"Colonel Fabray?"
The voice rouses Quinn from her sleep and she glances up to see Captain Young standing above her.
"Captain," Quinn says, lifting her hand to stifle a yawn before running it over her hair, hoping that she'll look presentable when she arrives at the air base. She feels a quick moment of dread as she considers the possibility that Rachel might not be there, might not have waited.
"I'm sorry to wake you but we'll be landing at Wright-Patterson soon and we haven't had a chance to talk since…" Quinn nods, glancing around. She gestures to the seat across from her.
"We have our stories," Quinn mutters in a low voice. "We were given them before we were transported to Iraq."
"I just…"
"No, Captain, we cannot discuss this further."
Quinn's tone is authoritative and Captain Young nods, changing the subject.
"Are you nervous?" he asks, his tone low. Quinn frowns at him and shakes her head.
"Terrified," she confides with a small smile. "I'm not going to kid myself into thinking that this will be easy."
He starts to ramble but Quinn doesn't have the energy to process what he's saying. She nods along with him as her mind begins to wander back to the beginning of the week. The flight to Iraq is where she met Captain Young for the first time, another agent turning his back on The Organisation.
The details of the next couple of days are hazy in Quinn's mind. They had been shut in solitary cells, all part of the act they'd been assured but Quinn had difficulty differentiating between what was real and what was fake. After four days, Quinn had begun to believe that she'd spend the remainder of her life trapped in this cell and that this was her punishment for trying to leave The Organisation; that the base had all been part of an elaborate hoax designed to lull her into a false sense of security. She grew mad with herself for being so trusting and, though she knew it was useless, started thinking of ways to escape.
Then two days ago, they'd been dragged from the cells with bags on their heads and hands tied behind their backs. Four of them. Young and two others and Quinn never asked if the other two had been part of The Organisation or if they'd been locked up for a while. There was no talking allowed. They had been bundled into the back of a windowless, airless truck and their journey began. Two hours before they had arrived at the US base, the truck had stopped and they had been allowed outside. The bags had been removed and their hands untied. For a brief instant, Quinn had considered the possibility of running into the surrounding desert to escape her captors until they had heard an English-speaking voice.
"We will be arriving at the base soon. There will be journalists waiting."
He had gone on to give them instructions, to say as little as possible and then they had been bundled back into the truck without their restraints. Quinn, distrustful as ever, had started to come up with ways of disarming the six guards sitting in the back of the truck, just in case.
After another two hours of silence, the truck had drawn to a halt and there had been shouts and the sun had been blinding as they left the truck again. Quinn had been ushered through the doors of the base, she remembers a microphone being thrust at her and that she said something about her family. And Rachel.
"Rachel," she whispers out loud, causing Young to pause in his ramble. He gives her a questioning look and she waves for him to continue, half-attempting to listen to his rambles.
The pilot's voice interrupts to inform them that they'd be landing within the next half hour. Quinn feels the knot in her stomach tighten and she tries to imagine what will happen when they land. They're prepared for journalists and photographers; they'd been through that in Iraq. What Quinn is completely unprepared for is who will be waiting. Will her mom be there? And Olivia? Olivia's family? Other family members? Friends?
Rachel?
She feels the plane begin to descend and is thankful when Young disappears back to the other side of the plane, leaving her to her own thoughts.
xxxxx
Rachel spots Judy Fabray and her eldest daughter immediately. She toys nervously with the pass around her neck and glances around, already garnering attention from some of the news reporters. Kurt stands protectively at her side, sending out the occasional 'no comment' when a microphone gets too close.
"Thank you," Rachel mutters once they're further away from the press.
"You'd think there would be more important things to report about," he says with a wink. "You look like you're going to pass out. Try to calm down."
Rachel nods, feeling her fingers shake slightly and clasping them in front of her.
A buzz of noise starts to spread through the hangar and cameras are hoisted onto shoulders. The plane has landed and from their vantage point, Rachel and Kurt watch two men in full military uniforms descend from the plane followed by one of the hostages Rachel recognises from television.
"Quinn," she whispers as the next person climbs down the steps. Rachel feels Kurt put an arm around her shoulders, steadying her as her heart begins to pound against her ribcage. Quinn is led into the hangar by two officers but breaks away from them as soon as she spies her mom. Kurt starts to push Rachel towards them but she shakes her head.
"They haven't seen each other for four years," she says quietly, watching as Judy is nearly knocked off her feet by Quinn's hug. Olivia presses kisses to the side of her younger sister's head and they stand bunched together while cameras flash and journalists are kept at bay by stern-looking officers.
After a couple of minutes, Quinn pulls back, quickly searching the hangar. Her eyes lock immediately onto Rachel's. She moves out of her mom's embrace wiping her eyes and starts to walk towards the still-shaking brunette.
Letting out a choked sob, Rachel walks forward though her legs have suddenly turned to jelly. Quinn breaks into a jog and meets Rachel in a bone-crushing hug, sweeping her off her feet. Rachel swears she hears Kurt let out a whoop but everything seems to pale in contrast to the look on Quinn's face.
"I love you," Quinn mutters immediately in Rachel's ear as the brunette begins to sob against Quinn's uniformed chest. "I'm never leaving you again. I love you, Rachel."
Rachel slides her arms around Quinn's neck and holds on for dear life.
"Like I'd let you leave again," she eventually says, glancing up into Quinn's shining eyes. "I love you."
Rachel feels a gasp leave her chest as Quinn twirls her around a couple of times. Everyone else seems to fade away and as Quinn lowers Rachel back to the ground, their foreheads meet.
"What?" Rachel asks under Quinn's intense gaze. "Is something wrong?" Quinn shakes her head quickly.
"No," she says. "Everything is perfect."
xxxxx
"Colonel Fabray?"
Quinn glances up from the folder in her hand and stands, tucking the folder under her arm.
"Ma'am," she says, offering a quick salute. The woman gestures for her to enter the room and she relaxes, taking in the medical consult room. The doctor sits down at her desk and flips through a file.
"Welcome back," she says, gesturing to the chair across from her. Quinn nods and sits down, placing her folder on the desk.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
"I understand you've been back on American soil for three weeks?"
"That's correct," Quinn confirms, slightly surprised when she realises that it has been three weeks and how fast the time has passed. At times, it's been a blur: spending time with her mom and sister and meeting her brother-in-law for the first time; seeing Rachel and officially meeting her fathers; flying to Washington for medical evaluations and to discuss her future… It's already been settled that, regardless of the Medical Evaluation Board's decision, Quinn will be moving to New York as soon as possible.
"I've been reviewing your evaluations," the doctor interrupts Quinn's train of thought, "And understand that you want to begin the Medical Separation process as soon as possible, is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am," Quinn says, opening the folder in front of her. "I've completed the paperwork I was given during my last evaluation and require your signature." Quinn slides the form towards the doctor. "You don't have to give me any speeches. I'm aware of my decision."
"I wasn't going to lecture you. Far from it. Particularly after your ordeal," the doctor smiles, reaching for a pen. She glances over the forms before signing them. "You appear to be handling your return to civilian life remarkably well."
"I have a support system in place," Quinn states, "They're helping me through any issues. As you can see from the forms, I will be attending counseling sessions privately in New York."
The doctor finishes signing the forms and slides them back towards Quinn.
"Thank you," Quinn says, standing when the doctor stands, gathering up her folder.
"Good luck for the future, Colonel," the doctor says, extending her hand. Quinn grasps it firmly and, without a backward glance, leaves the room, walking briskly towards the main entrance.
She tugs the collar of her coat up, trying to shield her face as much as possible from the biting wind as she walks towards her rental car. Her hand is reaching for the handle when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she gets the distinct feeling that someone is watching her.
Calmly, she glances around, catching sight of a dark-haired man in an overcoat ducking between two cars.
"Michaels, what the fuck?" she calls, dashing towards the cars he disappeared between. The gap is empty and she whips around, watching as he strides away, hands buried in his pockets.
She hesitates, watching him round the corner of the building and walks back towards her car, opening the door this time and sinking down into the front seat. She's about to start the engine when she notices an envelope tucked beneath the wiper. Perplexed, she retrieves the envelope and slides out the note inside.
"I got your back. Always."
It's signed 'E.M.'. Quinn feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth and jumps back into the car, eager to get back to the airport and back to Lima where Rachel and her family are waiting.
xxxxx
Quinn shivers as Rachel's lips press against the back of her neck.
"Come inside?" the brunette whispers. "It's freezing and they'll be here soon." Quinn nods, taking in the view of New York for a couple of seconds more before turning and walking into Rachel's lounge. The brunette reaches for her hand, bringing her in close for a kiss. Quinn's hands immediately go to Rachel's waist, tugging at the shirt she's wearing.
"When are they…"
"Half an hour," Rachel breathes into Quinn's mouth.
"Bedroom," Quinn mutters, lifting Rachel up and carrying her out of the lounge.
"While I was worrying myself to death over your whereabouts, thinking that you were dead…" Quinn quirks an eyebrow as she lays Rachel down and all but rips the buttons of the brunette's shirt before lying down between her thighs. "Not knowing if I'd ever see you again…" Quinn rolls her eyes and starts to kiss her way up from Rachel's navel to her neck, teeth nipping sharply at a sensitive spot on Rachel's collarbone. She feels Rachel gasp. "It's really hard to be mad at you when you're doing that, you know."
"I know. Maybe you should stop pretending to be mad," Quinn grins, capturing Rachel's lips in her own, leaving the brunette whimpering when she moves away again, unbuttoning her jeans, loosening them enough to slide her hand between the tan skin and… "You're not wearing underwear."
"No," Rachel says, "Is that a problem?" Quinn shakes her head and lets her fingers drag through the wetness she finds. "I thought they'd get in the way when we…"
"You planned this all out, didn't you? Seducing me right before our friends arrive?" Quinn grins and traces her finger over the brunette's clit.
"Jesus," Rachel breathes out. "I'm hardly the one doing the seducing," she murmurs, lacing her fingers through blonde hair. "Stop distracting me from my thoughts. While I was worrying myself to death… you were holed up in a gym."
"Only to stop myself from spending every waking moment thinking about you," Quinn drawls, teasing Rachel's entrance, feeling the petite woman straining up against her.
"Did it work?" Rachel gasps as two of Quinn's fingers slide deep inside her.
"Not even slightly," Quinn admits. Rachel's moan sends a jolt of pleasure through her and she begins to thrust harder, briefly wondering how many times she can make Rachel scream her name before their friends arrive.
"More," Rachel is panting and Quinn obliges, adding a third finger and curling her fingers. "Fuck."
More words stream from Rachel's mouth but Quinn can't differentiate between one and the next and hides her grin by lowering her mouth to the brunette's chest. Rachel's hand falls away from Quinn's hair and quickly opens the front clasp of her bra allowing the blonde to take an already stiff nipple into her mouth.
"Quinn," Rachel moans, her voice rising musically as teeth scrape across the sensitive flesh. "Quinn…"
Quinn feels the body pinned beneath her jerk upwards as she thrusts harder and the denim clad thigh rubbing between her legs causes her to moan around Rachel's nipple, sending vibrations through the petite brunette's body. As Rachel's pants become more ragged and higher-pitched, Quinn pulls her hand away and slides down the bed, pulling Rachel's jeans down around her knees.
Positioning the brunette at the end of the bed, Quinn kneels on the floor and spreads Rachel's legs.
"Please Quinn," Rachel begs, her body twitching almost painfully from need.
Quinn complies, running her tongue over the throbbing clit. With Quinn's name on her lips, Rachel cants off the bed as her orgasm rocks through her, collapsing back on the bed.
The doorbell buzzes moments later. Quinn finds herself giggling as Rachel swears loudly in the direction of her upstairs neighbour and helps the brunette off the bed, leaving her to clean herself up.
"You're mine later, Fabray," she hears Rachel call followed by the sound of drawers opening and closing in the bedroom as she walks down the hall to let their friends in. Rachel has changed her shirt and jeans by the time the others reach the door. "Mine," Rachel whispers, catching Quinn in a quick kiss before pulling the door open.
Santana barrels past her to throw her arms around Quinn, leaving everyone else gaping at her.
"Uh, Santana… you saw her three days ago, remember?" Rachel pipes up.
"Shut up, Berry," Santana says without malice, her voice muffled by Quinn's hair. "Nice JBF hair, by the way."
"JBF?" Rachel enquires, reaching up to touch her hair.
"Just been fu-"
Rachel clamps her hand to the top of her head, blushes furiously and dashes to the bathroom to check her reflection.
"Santana, be nice," Brittany says, dropping a kiss to Quinn's cheek as she passes on her way to the lounge.
"I'm always nice," Santana replies, finally pulling away from Quinn, who gives her a grin.
"You guys are first," Quinn says, pushing the Latina towards the lounge as Rachel comes out of the bathroom, hair smoothed down appropriately.
"You could have told me," Rachel hisses as Quinn reaches for her hand, following her into the lounge where Brittany is already sprawled across one couch pretending to nap.
"Britt, come on," Santana is trying to push Brittany's legs off the couch but failing miserably. With a mischievous glint in her eye, the brunette descends on the taller woman, tickling her sides until she squirms over to one side of the couch
"Not fair," Brittany says, pouting as Santana makes herself comfortable. "You know I have a fear of being tickled."
Quinn raises an eyebrow which Santana glares down before the brunette turns to her fiancée.
"Sorry, baby," Santana says, leaning in for a kiss.
"Glad to see nothing's changed," Quinn says, flopping down onto the other couch, dragging Rachel with her.
"Well, some things have changed," Santana says, disengaging from Brittany for a second to look at the other couple with a raised eyebrow. The buzzer sounds again.
"Yeah, I don't remember you ever being on time for anything," Quinn says, hauling herself off the couch. Santana lobs a cushion at her and misses, knocking a photograph from Rachel's shelves.
"Sorry, Rach," Santana says, jumping off the couch to retrieve the photograph. She smiles down at the photo of Quinn and Rachel taken all those years ago and sets it back on the shelf next to a photo of her and Brittany.
"Any damage?" Rachel asks, as Santana sits down.
"None," Santana grins. "I obviously didn't throw it hard enough."
There are voices from the hallway as Quinn greets Mercedes and Kurt, laughter that sounds like music to Rachel's ears. The newcomers sweep into the lounge and welcomes are exchanged before they settle down into the remaining chairs. Rachel glances over her shoulder, frowning when she notices that Quinn isn't in the room.
"Drinks?" Rachel asks, climbing off the couch.
"Red!" Kurt and Mercedes say together and start laughing.
"Beer?" Santana asks and Brittany makes a face.
"White," she says with a smile. Rachel makes her way to the kitchen where she finds Quinn finishing a phone call.
"Everything okay?" Rachel asks after Quinn has pocketed her phone. She reaches up for wine glasses and feels Quinn's hand close around hers.
"Yeah, just army stuff," Quinn shrugs. "I have to fly to Washington on Monday."
"Have they made a decision already? It's only been two weeks since you submitted all of the paperwork," Rachel begins to ramble nervously, ignoring the drinks to turn and face her girlfriend. Quinn shakes her head, lacing her fingers through Rachel's.
"I don't know, Rach," Quinn replies. "I won't know until I'm there."
"What if they say no? You can't go back…" Rachel's hands squeeze Quinn's and the blonde smiles.
"I'm not going back," Quinn says firmly. "I said I wasn't going to leave you and I stand by that. Look, let's enjoy tonight and this weekend and what happens next week, happens. We'll deal with it then."
Rachel nods and the pair meets in a soft kiss before the brunette pulls away, returning her attention to the drinks, teeth worrying her bottom lip.
"Hey, it's going to be okay," Quinn says, sliding her arm around Rachel's waist. "Don't worry." Rachel fixes her with a look and Quinn smiles, "Try not to worry too much."
"I'm coming with you," Rachel says decisively, "I want to be there."
"Of course," Quinn says, pressing a kiss to Rachel's temple. She grabs another beer from the fridge and helps her girlfriend carry the drinks into the lounge. After Rachel finishes distributing the drinks and grabs a few bags of chips from the kitchen, she sinks onto the couch. Quinn's arm immediately takes up residence on her shoulder and she smiles, glancing around at her friends.
Quinn squeezes her shoulder as she reaches forward for her drink.
"Love you," she whispers low enough that no-one else hears and Rachel's smile splits into a grin. Quinn's right, of course. No amount of worrying will change what happens on Monday and for the moment, she manages to halt the unsettling feeling in her stomach.
xxxxx
Quinn gives Rachel one last hopeful smile as she disappears into the room they've been waiting patiently outside of for close to half an hour. Rachel clenches her hands together, offering up a prayer to anyone who's listening, wishing that she could be in the room with Quinn.
Quinn is directed to sit down. Four men and one woman face her and suddenly, nerves wrack her body. She's been so sure that she'd be granted a discharge that she hasn't stopped to consider the alternative possibility.
"Colonel Fabray," the man sitting in the middle of the table begins. "After careful consideration of your medical evaluations and the recommendations of the physicians who examined you, your application for Medical Discharge has been approved."
Quinn closes her eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a shaky breath.
"Thank you, sir," Quinn says, getting to her feet and crossing the room to shake the hand of every person sitting behind the table.
"The appropriate paperwork will be forwarded to you," a voice says but she doesn't really hear anything else they say. She's led out of the room and into the corridor where Rachel jumps to her feet.
"What happened? That was quick. It was too quick… they said no, didn't they? I'll go in there and beg if I have to…" Rachel throws her arms around Quinn who is too shocked to say anything to her girlfriend. "Quinn, say something."
"My application was approved," she mutters.
"What?" Rachel shrieks, earning her a few glances from the people who are waiting in the corridor. Quinn grabs her hand and leads her out into the parking lot before kissing her hard.
"Let's go home," she says, grinning as Rachel wavers slightly and reaches up to touch her lips.
"Wait… what?" Rachel tries again.
"I'm not a soldier anymore," she says, tugging on Rachel's hand.
"That's it? You were in there for less than five minutes," Rachel says, allowing herself to be dragged across the parking lot.
"They're busy people, Rach," Quinn says, unlocking the car and holding Rachel's door open for her.
The drive back to the airport is quiet apart from the radio, which Quinn turns up when it becomes clear that Rachel is incapable of forming words.
"Did you expect some sort of ceremony?" Quinn asks, chuckling slightly. Rachel rolls her eyes in response and turns the volume down on the radio.
"I don't know," she says with a little half-shrug, "I just thought there'd be more to it. I mean, you're leaving behind a significant part of your life. I feel like it should be marked in some way."
"You can throw a party if you want," Quinn says with a grin.
"Just a small party," Rachel agrees and then makes a face at the thought of having a lot of people in their apartment, "Or y'know, just you and me."
"Sound like a plan to me," Quinn says, turning her attention back to the road. Rachel falls silent, staring out the window with a thoughtful expression playing on her features. "What?" Quinn asks finally.
"Do you get to keep the uniform?"
xxxxx
"Babe, I'm on my way," Quinn says, pressing her phone closer to her ear as a gust of wind blasts a wall of snow into her face. She curses Santana for keeping her out in this weather and hurries along the street, jamming her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She doesn't mind winter and the seemingly never-ending snowfall but when she thinks back to where she was this time last year, she feels a small pang of longing for the deserted cove she found on an almost-deserted island in the Caribbean the week before she flew to Peru. She makes a mental note to mention it to Rachel.
When she rounds the corner, however, she feels a warmth spread through her at the welcoming sight of their building. The windows that face onto the street are lit up like beacons welcoming her home.
She slides her gloves and hat off as she crosses the foyer to the staircase, greeting their downstairs neighbour with a smile and quick pleasantries about the weather.
The first thing she hears when she opens the door to the apartment is strains of 'Winter Wonderland' coming from the lounge.
"Rachel?" she calls, hanging up her coat and walking into the lounge where she pulls up short, her jaw dropping.
"Merry Christmas!" her girlfriend announces from her position next to the piano, standing in front of a fully decorated tree
"How long was I gone?" Quinn asks, staring at the tree before her eyes flick to Rachel's beaming face.
"Santana was just a diversion. I had to enlist the help of Kurt and Mercedes to get the tree decorated while I cooked…"
"You cooked?" Quinn asks, eyebrows shooting up almost comically.
"With supervision from Kurt," she confirms with a nod. "I've never cooked a traditional Christmas dinner before but I think I've covered most of the basic elements… turkey, roast vegetables, gravy…"
Quinn's stomach growls audibly.
"It's March," Quinn says, still staring at the tree, then she notices a couple of wrapped gifts, "And you got me presents? I didn't get anything for you…"
"I didn't do this with the expectation of gifts, Quinn. You didn't know I was planning any of this," Rachel says, walking forward to take her girlfriend's hands. "You're cold."
"Yeah, it's wild outside and Santana had me trailing all over New York… I really can't believe you've done this," Quinn says, smiling at last. Rachel relaxes and leads Quinn towards the dining room where dinner is waiting on the table. "Why have you done this?" Rachel looks away for a few seconds before turning back to face Quinn.
"I didn't feel like celebrating Christmas," she says with a shrug. "I spent it alone…"
"Rach," Quinn admonishes softly, pulling the shorter woman close to her and wrapping her up in a bear hug, "I thought you went back to Ohio…"
"I visited briefly for Hanukkah," she says. "But I went back to Los Angeles for Christmas. I didn't really feel like seeing anyone." Quinn releases Rachel from her hug and pulls out a chair for her to sit down.
"This is amazing," Quinn says, sitting down next to Rachel and starting to pile food onto her plate. "Santana barely let me eat all day," she offers as an explanation.
"I told her that you could have something small for lunch," Rachel says apologetically, watching as Quinn smothers her food in gravy and begins to cut up a slice of turkey. Her expression turns to one of amusement as Quinn loads up her fork.
"I'm ravenous," Quinn says before popping the food in her mouth. She moans and Rachel giggles, "So good. You can cook."
After Quinn clears her plate three times, they abandon the dining room and return to the lounge where Rachel gathers up the gifts, dragging a larger one out from beneath the tree.
"You really, really didn't have to…" Quinn begins.
"Quinn, shut up," Rachel says, passing her the first gift to the blonde. Reluctantly, Quinn starts to pull off the wrapping paper. "Could you try to be a little more enthusiastic?" Quinn rolls her eyes, breaking into a grin.
"I want to open the big one," Quinn says, gesturing to the largest of the presents. Rachel slides it over and Quinn tests to see how heavy it is. "Is it a pair of slippers?" Rachel shakes her head. "A bike?" This earns her a giggle.
"Open it!" the brunette says. Quinn pulls off the paper, frowning at the brown box, "You'll understand when you see what's inside. It's not the easiest thing to wrap."
Quinn's jaw drops when she pries the box open.
"A guitar?" she asks, opening the case and running her hand down the neck. "This is a Gibson. Rachel, this is too much."
"Quinn," Rachel interrupts, holding up a hand. "It's Christmas."
Quinn opens her mouth to protest but changes her mind and picks up the guitar instead.
"It's beautiful," she says, her voice a mixture of awe and shock. "I haven't played since… I haven't played for nearly five years." Her fingers pick each of the strings and she smiles. "You have to sing."
"As if I'd say no to that," Rachel says, scooting close to Quinn and kissing her softly on the lips as the blonde begins to strum.
xxxxx
A/N: Nearly finished with this. Thanks for the reviews and the favourites and everything. Epilogue and a deleted scene still to come :)