A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating and thank you so much for all the reviews.
NIGHTS IN GOODVILLE
She storms out of her home, making a point to slam the door closed as loudly as possible after she steps through it. She wants her anger to fill the entire space she is leaving behind and wants her presence to be felt long after she has driven off. She hurries to her car and then quickly gets into it but hesitates a long moment before starting the engine. She watches the front door, hoping that she's being followed just so that she can reject any efforts at reconciliation.
The door remains shut and she realizes that she is not going to be chased after. She huffs indignantly and then pushes the button that will start her car. She revs the engine loudly, knowing that it's her chance at getting the last word in. She yanks the car into reverse and then peels out of the driveway. She wishes she knew how to make her car tires squeal in protest before she slams the car back into drive, levels her foot on the accelerator and then pulls away from her home.
She makes it two minutes away from the house before she even considers where it is she's driving to. Their house isn't right around the corner from a quick escape. They built it closer to the middle of nowhere so that it could serve as a refuge. She has never thought of it as a prison, though now she is deeply considering it to be such. The nearest town is ten miles away and she's not convinced that she'll be able to hold onto her anger long enough to make the drive.
She slams the flat of her hand against the steering wheel. She is frustrated with her wife, herself, her whole freaking situation. She is at odds with her moral compass and wants nothing more than to march back into their home, declare her undying love, and hold onto her wife forever as they start making plans for their future. Though, she is positive that another talk about their future will just degenerate into another argument.
It seems, she rolls her eyes, that as much as things have changed for them there are still so many things that stay the same. They have never seen completely eye to eye about their future together. They have made compromises—their house in the middle of nowhere being one of them—but no compromise has eased either of their individual ambitions. At least, she admits, the compromises haven't eased hers.
Her wife's plan for their future is to settle down for a bit. Quinn wants to take a break from Hollywood and New York and wants to venture back out into the real world. Quinn believes it a possibility to fade back into obscurity and Rachel can admit that perhaps in time they can, but Rachel doesn't want to fade to black. She wants to continue performing up until the point she no longer walks the Earth.
Quinn's request is unreasonable. Rachel Berry cannot give up the stage, the cameras, the audiences not even for Quinn Fabray. Not even for however long 'a little while' is supposed to be. So much could happen in 'a little while'. She might miss out on the role of a lifetime and her chances at winning an Oscar would flutter away on a missed opportunity. Quinn has already been given opportunities and has capitalized on them.
Quinn has her awards and has known fame that Rachel still can't compete with. Though, Rachel is tangled up in it. Her name is often now Quinn Fabray's tagline. New rumors that were at one time old rumors have begun to circulate again. People who know nothing are conjecturing about her private life as if they share it with her. Their stories are, of course, terribly inaccurate tending to insist that she and Quinn are best friends or secret lovers. No matter which spectrum the rumor falls under it always seems to burst with untruth.
That's why she doesn't pay attention to the rumors, not really, but she does pay attention to how she is described in the articles. Too often she is described as 'Berry, Broadway performer' or 'Rachel Berry, famous for her guest appearance on…'. She has somehow become a recognizable face or voice without a recognizable name.
With this at the forefront of her mind, there is no way she can agree to take a break for 'a little while'. Too much could happen in the span of 'a little while' that could turn it into 'a long while'. They could decide to move to a different country, perhaps one without easy access to television, the internet or a well funded arts community. It would be an escape from the media hounds that sniff them out no matter where they are, but she doesn't want to exist in a cultureless vacuum.
They could decide to travel the world and see all the things they miss out on while traveling around for work. It would be their true first adventure together. She always thought it would be romantic to hop from one country to another, and only be immersed with each other and the unknown that would surround them. They would outrun the rumors and the stresses that seem to have become too much.
They could…start living out some kind of late blooming fairytale. They could start working on possibly beginning on exploring the idea of extending their family. Quinn could get the chance to actually sit down with Beth and work on building some kind of relationship with her daughter. Quinn might even be talked into having another child. Or they could adopt, but Rachel knows that Quinn secretly desires to be pregnant again. Quinn wants a second try at being a mother, and Rachel wants to see Quinn being a mother, too.
She wants all the things that Quinn wants. She just doesn't want to have to give up her career to have them. She doesn't want to have to press pause on her career just so that she can press play on her marriage. Taking this 'little while' means more than just moving out of the way of the camera lens. It means a lot more since their veil of secrecy is ever so slowly lifting.
Private things are becoming public and if both of them at the same time walk away… well that will just sort of ruin everything won't it?
She doesn't want to be this selfish about it, not really. It's not her goal to be the naysayer when Quinn speaks so seriously about stepping away from the special bits of themselves that allow them to be the ones out of millions that made it in the business. She's been supportive. At least, she thinks she's been supportive through everything that has been happening. She hasn't pushed—too much—for Quinn to contact Beth. She didn't object—too loudly—when Quinn decided to put their joint movie project on hold indefinitely. She has honored—for the most part—Quinn's wishes to not talk about work during their week away from it all.
Still, some things did need to be discussed. Some things could not be buried in silence and then expected to miraculously work out in the end. Things didn't just work themselves out.
There's a knock on the car window and she jumps having almost forgotten she was still sitting in her car less than a mile away from her house. Her eyes quickly shift to the window and a feeling of warmth overwhelms her as she sees her wife standing outside.
Quinn's hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and her white t-shirt is hanging loosely off her right shoulder. Quinn is so seamlessly perfect. Rachel's always thought so even when they were kids back in Lima, Ohio and Rachel's one true love was performing. Back then, Quinn's perfection made Rachel angry, jealous, and just a little bit bitter. Quinn never had to work as hard as her, at least that's what Rachel had believed. She knows better now.
She knows so much more now—about both of them.
But she's still supposed to be angry. A messy ponytail and a loose t-shirt shouldn't be enough to ascertain forgiveness.
"I'm not letting you in," she announces. "Go back to the house."
"This is stupid," Quinn mouths, knowing that Rachel won't be able to clearly hear her through the glass.
"Go back to the house," Rachel mouths back. She doesn't want this argument to end so quickly. She doesn't want to give in.
Quinn steps away from the car and Rachel thinks she has won, but when the car doors unlock and the passenger side door is pulled open she knows better.
"I do have a key to this car, too," Quinn points out as she slides into the seat next to Rachel.
"So you've just decided to force yourself upon me?" Rachel huffs. "I do not currently desire your company."
"You've been sitting alone out here for twenty minutes." Quinn shifts in the seat so that she is closer to Rachel. "I didn't want to wait another twenty minutes to end this fight."
"Well, I want to wait another twenty minutes." She knows she's being immature but she wants…she doesn't know what she wants, and that's the real problem. Because, forever and ever all she wanted was to be on stage. She wanted her name to be a household staple. She wanted to be someone special and wanted a bevy of devoted fans.
Quinn clasps her hands together and dips her head. "I know, but I want to do this like peeling off a Band-Aid."
"No," Rachel answers the question Quinn is yet to ask. "Absolutely not."
Quinn's head lifts up and her wide eyes focus on Rachel. "You don't even know what you're saying no to."
Rachel raises a brow. "Do you really think I don't know what asinine suggestion you were about to make?"
Quinn's wide eyes narrow and then turn away from Rachel.
"I refuse to live separate lives again, Quinn," she says knowing that her wife is quickly thinking of some way to defend a suggestion neither of them really wants to carry through.
"This is my early midlife crisis, not yours." Quinn keeps her eyes focused on the dashboard. "I'm the one that suddenly wants to escape. I'm the one that has to figure this thing out with Beth. These are my things to deal with, not yours and it's not fair of me…"
"Stop talking," Rachel interjects. "You should really just stop talking."
Quinn's face moves from indignant to chastisement within seconds. "W-what should I be saying?"
Rachel reaches over and rests her hand atop Quinn's. "We're both different than we were before," she whispers. "I've spent the last twenty minutes in this car thinking about my career and all that I'll be missing out on if I take a break from it."
"And I don't have the right to ask you to choose between your first love and me," Quinn comments knowing that her plea for a while of respite was not an easy request.
"That's not what I'm concerned about," Rachel dips her head and focuses on the steering wheel. She briefly wonders why they always seem to have these conversations in cars. There's probably some profound deeper meaning behind their tendency to sit in cars and hash out their lives, but she's in no mood to decode the meaning. She's in no mood to decipher meaning from anything. She's tired of trying to look through closed doors as if they would suddenly become translucent.
"What is your concern?"
Quinn's words crash through Rachel's reemergence into convoluted thoughts that are slowly being sorted out. Rachel sits up straighter, rolls her shoulders back, and takes a deep breath. "I think that it's horribly unfair that you stumbled into my life and slowly took it over."
Quinn blinks in confusion. "What?"
Rachel takes in another deep breath. "You came into my life, married me, and simply decided that you would become the most important thing in it."
"Oh," Quinn is still confused. "I'm sure I didn't do that on purpose?"
"Well I hope you are proud of yourself," Rachel says and her body slumps. "You have completely changed every major priority I have ever had."
A slow-developing smirk creeps across Quinn's lips. "I have?"
"Don't sound so proud of yourself," Rachel reprimands. "I'm sure you've been planning my downfall since middle school."
The smirk slides into a smile. "Only since middle school?" Quinn questions.
Rachel nods. "Yes, it must have started at puberty."
The smile turns into a laugh. "Puberty?"
"Of course," Rachel says in no uncertain terms. "That's when you started weaving your magic and made your nefarious plots to make sure that I would always play a supporting role in your life. You have refused to let me be the star."
"Rach," Quinn reaches over and grabs onto her wife's thigh, "you can't be serious."
"And why can't I?" Rachel's muscles relax under Quinn's touch.
Quinn captures Rachel's eyes. "Then it goes both ways," she rebukes. "I was supposed to live a bohemian life and leave a trail of lovers behind me. I was supposed to outrun anything that could ever hold me down."
"Hmm," Rachel grunts. "What pathetic creatures we turned out to be."
Quinn nods. "A major disappointment," she agrees.
Their eyes hold for a moment longer before the tension between them dissolves into relieving laughter. When the laughter dies down, Rachel reaches over and cups her wife's face in her hands. She slowly leans forward and holds the moment in perfect suspense until she covers Quinn's lips with her own.
Their lips linger even after the kiss has ended. They pull slowly apart, Quinn's face still cupped in Rachel's hands.
"I can't give up my career," Rachel whispers. It's an unreasonable request. She's just signed on to do a television series for a major network. She can't just turn her back on that kind of opportunity. At least, it shouldn't be so damn easy to willingly up give up on something that had meant so much to her for so damn long. "But I want something that I thought I'd never have."
Quinn's eyes slip shut. She knows she needs to take in this moment. She needs to give it the recognition that it deserves. Rachel Berry is offering something that has never been offered before. Rachel is declaring a new one true love.
"You'll still do your series," Quinn asserts, her eyes still closed. "We'll make that work."
Rachel slides her right hand away from Quinn's face. It traces down Quinn's shoulders, then her arms until it reaches her hand. "It doesn't matter."
"No, no," Quinn quickly disagrees. "It matters. It will always matter. You aren't my Rachel without the lights, cameras, action thing."
Rachel chuckles. "Is that really how you see me?"
"It's a part of you," Quinn replies, "a major part of you."
"And the other part?" Rachel questions quietly wondering what she is without the 'light, cameras, action'. She hasn't really bothered to learn about that aspect of her personality that so often went unused.
"The other part," Quinn repeats, "that's a work in progress, because we're a work in progress."
"Are we?" Rachel leans down and kisses her wife's hand. "I kind of thought we were a finished product."
Quinn shakes her head, "Not yet." She reaches over and runs her left hand through Rachel's hair. She loved the feel of Rachel's hair against her fingers. She would be irrationally angry if Rachel ever cut off her hair. "We're just a work in progress."
LITTLE BOXES
Rachel was not ignorant about what her peers said about her behind her back. Directors, producers, writers, actors, and crew members had said on several occasions that Rachel Berry was difficult to work with. They said that she was a perfectionist and ill tempered. Though, her fits of rage never included curse words and biting commentary. Her fits were more likely to be dramatic exits and extended breaks that slowed production.
No one could say, however, that Rachel's insistence on perfection didn't make everybody work harder. People wanted to live up to Rachel's standards. It's as if they wanted to prove to her that she wasn't that much better than they were. She forced everyone to be their best, and that little requirement made every production she was in better. That's why she had won multiple Tony awards. That's why she was the highest paid Broadway performer. That's why crowds lined up after her every performance to get just a little piece of her attention.
She was the star and everyone knew it. It wasn't her fault that she got more attention than her fellow actors. After every performance her dressing room was overflowing with flowers and cards full of well wishes. The attention had gotten more extreme since she had begun touring. She was treated like a rock star and she loved it, her ego loved it. More importantly, she knew that she deserved it. Everyone knew it.
No one was even trying to fight it anymore. At the end of the performance, the other actors would take a step back and give Rachel her moment alone in the spotlight. She had been carrying the tour through the season and as long as Rachel pulled in the crowds they all got nice paychecks.
It was the end of another performance, and as was normal, the cast was lined up outside of the theatre mingling and taking pictures with the attendees. Rachel was standing in her own designated area with a long line of people waiting in front of her. She worked through each fan with a smile and word of thanks. She posed for pictures and signed newly purchased merchandise.
There were also two security officers standing close to Rachel, surveying the crowd. They had been deemed necessary by the show's producers as soon as the show went on tour. The crowds had never gotten out of hand, but there were fans that went one picture too far or made one comment too inappropriate.
Rachel had resisted the added security at first, having declared that she wanted her fans to have full access. She had argued with the producers for days about the issue, and then one day suddenly changed her mind. No one knew what had made Rachel give in, but they didn't ask questions because they were glad that the argument was over and done with. Rachel never confessed that it was Quinn Fabray who had ultimately reasoned that if Rachel didn't need security than neither did she.
Since Rachel cared more about Quinn's safety than her own, she had given in because she believed it simply stupid for Quinn to not have a security detail while flying around the world promoting some movie or another. In real life Quinn was not Supergirl; she wasn't bullet proof. She reached a wider audience than Rachel, and therefore Rachel knew Quinn was more likely to run into some crazy person who claimed to be Quinn's Number One Fan Kathy Bates style in Misery.
Rachel worried more about Quinn that she wanted to admit. She felt that Quinn wasn't as strong as her. She wasn't built to handle the pressures of fame and didn't seem to enjoy it as much as a person should. Quinn liked smaller audiences and intimate environments. That's why she did movies and not theatre, but Rachel handled the crowds well enough for the both of them.
When they went out together to a premiere or an awards show she ended up doing most of the talking. Quinn would lovingly watch as Rachel answered the questions for the both of them. When she did end up answering a question on her own, her eyes still focused on Rachel keeping up a wall between her and the outside world. In public, Quinn often seemed so softly spoken, though in reality Rachel was well aware that her wife could use words to her advantage.
They balanced each other in that respect. Quinn knew how to keep silent and Rachel seemed to always possess the right words at the right moment. It was another way that they just sort of… fit. Rachel was slowly beginning to believe that their marriage wasn't just a naïve construct. They hadn't celebrated their first year anniversary mostly because both of them were too scared to celebrate something that was still uncertain.
That's why Rachel insisted their second year anniversary was going to be a huge private celebration. The first year could have been a fluke, but the second? That proved that what they had was real. It meant that they could start building a life together instead of continuing to live apart.
"Ms. Berry?" The woman in front of Rachel asked uncertainly. Rachel's attention had begun to wonder as the woman carried on talking about her daughter's desire to become a Broadway star. It was story that had been shared with Rachel on more than one occasion by numerous people seeking her autograph.
"I'm sorry," Rachel apologized. "I think it's wonderful about your daughter. She sounds really talented."
The woman looked over her shoulder to seek out the thing that had garnered Rachel's attention. Sitting hidden in a dark corner away from the crowds sat a familiar face. "Is that Quinn Fabray?" She asked.
Rachel grinned, amused that the woman's attention went so easily away from her towards being in awe of Quinn's presence. Rachel really couldn't blame her, though. Quinn was attention worthy, even if she stole away the spotlight. "I think it is," Rachel played along. "She must be a fan of the show."
"Do you know her personally?" The woman's eyes stayed glued to Quinn.
"We grew up together," Rachel casually admitted. Anyone with an internet connection could verify that tidbit of information.
"Do you think she would mind if I went over and asked for her autograph?"
Rachel looked around. The crowd had mostly thinned out and Rachel knew that Quinn had just been waiting for the night to end. She had been traveling around for the last two weeks with Rachel and had mostly gone under the radar. The cast had hardly paid attention to Quinn's presence since they had gotten used to Quinn's sporadic appearances throughout the entire production.
"Of course she wouldn't," Rachel grabbed onto the woman's hand. "Let's go say hello."
Those who had stayed and that were waiting for their turn to speak with Rachel, watched her walk hand in hand with her fan across the room. That's when everyone began to notice that there was another famous person in their midst. They watched as Rachel reached the dark corner and then released the woman's hand. She bent down and greeted Quinn Fabray with a kiss on the cheek and then sat down next to her.
People began looking around at each other, seeking permission to trail behind Rachel Berry. One moved and then another, and eventually Rachel and Quinn were surrounded by people. Rachel told them to pull tables together and take a seat. Quinn gave Rachel a tolerating look, but didn't offer any protest.
Eagerly, the small crowd pulled together the tables and filled the seats.
"I'm glad you all decided to sit down," Rachel commented. "My feet were getting tired," she added.
"Does that mean we're not getting an encore?" A man in the crowd jokingly asked.
"Don't ask," Quinn answered. "If you get her singing again she'll never stop. I'll be hearing it all night."
"Hey!" Rachel protested and slapped Quinn on the shoulder. "These people paid their hard earned money to hear me sing."
The crowd laughed again, and shifted a bit closer to the two women easily fascinated by the interaction.
"Well," Quinn smirked, "I got in for free."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Ignore her," she told their audience, "she's always been jealous of my superior talent."
"How long have you two known each other?" A woman sitting to Quinn's left asked. "You seem like close friends."
"We grew up together," Rachel again answered, intentionally keeping her answer the same as before.
They kept answering questions until one of the theatre managers caught Rachel's attention and let her know that they were closing up. The crowd groaned in protest as their chance to hang out with Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray came to an inevitable end. Quinn surprised them all when she offered to move the impromptu get together to the jazz bar across the street.
Most everyone in the crowd eagerly agreed and hurried off to get their spot in the next location. Rachel and Quinn slowly walked together out of the building. "Why?" Rachel asked as they walked. "You hate mingling."
"But you don't," Quinn answered. "I don't like sharing you, but I'll have you alone later."
It was already close to midnight and the night still felt young. Rachel grabbed onto Quinn's hand and held it tightly in her own. They walked across the street to the bar and were welcomed by the people who had been eagerly seeking their attention. Tables had been pushed together and two seats were left vacant for Quinn and Rachel.
"I'll get us something to drink," Quinn offered after they had reached the table. "I'll start a tab for everyone."
"Everyone?" Rachel questioned.
"I think I can afford it," Quinn replied. "Do you want your usual?"
"Yes, thank you." Rachel slowly let her hand slip out of Quinn's. Their eyes met for a moment longer and then Quinn slipped away into the crowd.
"So honestly," A woman sidled up next to Rachel, "how long have you and Quinn Fabray been together?"
Rachel smiled and turned to look at the woman sitting next to her. It was the same woman who had previously asked how long she and Quinn had known each other. "We grew up together," Rachel repeated.
The woman looked skeptical, as if she knew she was being fed a lie or at least part of a lie. "So you two aren't an item?"
"An item," Rachel chuckled, "no. We have never been an 'item'." They had always been so much more than a casual fling. Even in high school they hadn't ever been simple.
"I'm sorry," the woman immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that you and her seem kind of…" she paused searching for a non offensive word, "intimate."
"She's my best friend," Rachel confessed. "She is the only person in the world that knows me."
"Oh," the woman dumbly replied. "I guess that makes sense."
Rachel grinned. "It doesn't have to make sense," she said. "It just…is."
"Then I wish I had a best friend like that," the woman commented and then stood up and slinked back into the crowd.
A few moments later Quinn returned with two drinks in hand. She placed both on the table and then sat down. She leaned in closer to Rachel and asked, "Was that woman hitting on you?"
"Why are you jealous?" Rachel slipped a hand onto Quinn's thigh.
"I'm Quinn Fabray," Quinn's muscles contracted under Rachel's touch, "I don't get jealous."
Rachel leaned in even closer to her wife. "I think you're lying," she whispered.
"She's not really that cute," Quinn declared.
"Easy tiger," Rachel ran her hand up Quinn's thigh, "she was just curious about our relationship."
"What did you tell her?"
Rachel shrugged. "The truth."
Quinn narrowed her eyes. "The truth? What truth?"
Rachel laughed. It was kind of ridiculous how much sense Quinn's question made, because with them there were multiple truths. It was true that they grew up together. It was true that Quinn was her best friend. It was true that of all the people in the world Quinn was the only person that really understood her. But, it was also true that they were 'intimate' in ways that went beyond friendship.
She desired Quinn—a desire that went beyond sexual gratification and physical attraction. It was a desire that had begun long before she even could properly identify what it was. It was just a feeling inside of her that often was misinterpreted as a tangential affect of love. It had taken her time to sort it out and realize that the desire stood alone.
The desire had power over her. It made her take risks like caressing Quinn's thigh in the middle of a crowded bar. It made her lean in close even when it would be more prudent to pull away. It made her want to straddle Quinn's lap and sink into her. It made her out of character.
"It doesn't matter," Rachel finally answered as she reached over with her free hand and picked up her drink. "Let's not dwell on it."
Quinn leaned back and wrapped her arm around Rachel. "You're really trying to get us in trouble aren't you?"
Rachel took a sip from her drink and then commented "I've always been the risk taker."
"Says you." Quinn pulled Rachel closer.
"I do." Rachel relaxed into Quinn.
Their eyes broke apart and looked out in the crowded room. Most eyes were on them and overlooked the intimate moment they shared. They didn't pay any attention to it, no matter what rumors might be started. They had already given up on trying to control what was said. They were in the public eye and rumors would be spread. At the time, a rumor about Quinn having an affair with the male lead in her recent flick was spreading like wildfire. According to the rumor mill, she was pregnant with his child.
Their attention turned to the band playing on stage. The lead singer was…decent though Rachel knew that she was better. They finished their first drinks and then another and another. The questions from their group of fans died down and eased into an enjoyable night out. People slowly forgot that they were sitting at the same table as Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. They became like anyone else inside the bar having a good time together.
The highlight of the night came when the lead singer announced she was going to take a break. Some of the patrons boldly asked Rachel to get up and sing.
"I've been singing all day," Rachel declared and then did something she didn't do with anyone else; she willingly handed over the spotlight. "You should ask Quinn. She has a wonderful voice."
The crowd looked skeptically at the woman who had her arm wrapped around the Broadway star. None of them had ever heard that Quinn Fabray could sing at all. She was Supergirl, and while she did that well enough, it didn't involve singing.
"Go ahead," Rachel nodded towards the stage, "break a leg."
"Do you really want me to?" Quinn asked.
Rachel nodded. "Sing something for me."
Quinn looked down at her wife and then turned to the crowd. Anticipation filled the air. It felt like a milestone was resting on a precipice waiting for a strong wind to push it over the edge.
Quinn turned back to her wife. "For you," she said and then quickly gulped down what was left of her drink. She stood up to applause and then steadily made her way to the stage. She quickly was introduced to the band and then the bass player simply asked, "What is it you want us to play?"
Rachel watched as Quinn brushed her hands nervously against her legs. She got a bit of a thrill as she watched her wife move across the stage. She knew Quinn hated to perform live, but it was their second year anniversary and Rachel wanted to hear her wife sing to her. The fact that it was in public was just an added bonus. Though, being so explicit about their relationship was something they had ever done before.
They had pushed more boundaries than they ever had before. So, why couldn't Quinn stand up and sing to her?
"Okay so uh," Quinn mumbled into the microphone, "you all are going to have to forgive me. I'm a little rusty at performing in front of crowds."
"Sing it!" A drunken patron yelled from the bar.
The tension in the room scaled back and Quinn smiled at her erstwhile supporter. "Thanks…whoever you are." She brushed her loose hair behind her ear. "So Rach asked me to stand up here and sing, and what Berry wants she gets."
The crowd cheered and laughed equally entertained by the intoxicating presence of the two stars in their company and the alcohol.
"So," Quinn shrugged, "I guess I should start singing." She turned to the band. "You guys ready?"
"Sure thing," the drummer replied and then began the count. The music started up and Quinn tightened hands into fists and started to sway to the music. "So for Rach," she looked out over the crowd and met her wife's eyes, "Nights in White Satin."
The band continued to play and eventually Quinn added her voice to the music. Rachel leaned back and let her wife's voice wash over her. The lyrics to the song were bold and a clear declaration for anyone still sober enough to hear it. Rachel closed her eyes and filtered out everyone else in the room.
Like any other moment meant to be savored, it passed too quickly. Quinn's voice faded and the music stopped. There was a moment of silence before the song ended the crowd began to give their appreciation for her talent. Rachel opened her eyes and quickly sought out Quinn's. "I love you, too," she whispered.
Quinn bowed her head and blushed.
This wasn't exactly what Rachel had had in mind when she thought about her wedding anniversary. She hadn't wanted to be on tour and traveling across the country. She hadn't wanted Quinn to be fresh from traveling the world from another movie premiere bolstering up a blockbuster that promised more action than substance. She hadn't wanted to celebrate it in a bar full of strangers.
She had wanted to plan the perfect night, but she realized that for her and Quinn—planning wasn't so much their strong suit. Things happened between them and they went along with it. They made decisions when the moment felt right, not necessarily when it felt prudent, and Rachel absolutely hated that. She hated it not being planned. She hated that they didn't already have their next five anniversaries marked on their calendars, but she wasn't quite sure that planning it out would make it any better.
Because in what other circumstance would she have had the opportunity to perform her Broadway hit on stage, mingle with adoring fans, cuddle with her wife in a bar, and hear her wife sing to her all on the same night? How could she have planned something so perfect?
"Encore!" She yelled as the crowd began harassing Quinn for another song. Quinn gave her a long suffering look and then turned back to the band to pick out another song.
…Perfect.
Additional A/N: Okay hope you enjoyed it. A couple of things I would like to encourage. Listen to the song "Nights in White Satin". The Who, I believe, originally sang it but the version Quinn is singing in this is supposed to be Bettye Lavette's. I'm not big on song fics but it's Glee, right? Actually, most of the segment titles throughout this fic have been song titles. I'm a huge music junky. It gets me through the long days ( I work 24-72hr shifts for work). A Campaign of Shock and Awe is also taken from the Evelyn Evelyn song same name. When it comes down to it, I'm not terribly original. LOL.
The lyrics are as follows, but seriously listen to Bettye Lavette's version because the lyrics don't do her version justice:
(written by David Hayward)
Nights in white satin
Never quite reaching the end
I've got letters here I've written
I never meant to send
Beauty I've always missed
With these old eyes before
Just what the truth is
I can't say no more
But I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Gazing at people
Some of them walking hand in hand
Exactly what I'm going through
I don't think they can understand
Some of them try to tell me
Whatever it is you wanna be
You gonna be in the end
But I just wanna say, "I love you"
I love you
I love you
I love you
Lord, I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Nights in white satin
Never quite reaching the end
I've got letters here I've written