Chapter 14

Two Years Ago

Quinn knows this is the one. This has to be the one. There are literally no other apartments to view in their price range. Well, there are other apartments but they're too far away from her studio and Broadway. Rachel has already vetoed three on account of their lack of reputable coffee establishments within a five minute walking distance.

The realtor shoots the blonde a weary smile and opens the doors to their last apartment of the day. Quinn is charmed before she even reaches the open-plan lounge. The sun beams in through tall, wide windows and Quinn starts to picture where she'll place her favourite squashy armchair. She glances at her girlfriend, praying that Rachel will like it.

The brunette is tapping her fingers against her lips, gazing around at the space.

"Rach, what do you think?" Quinn asks, almost nervously.

"I like it," Rachel says with a decisive nod. The realtor exhales, relief washing over her. "Let's see the rest of it."

Rachel slides her hand into Quinn's, interlocking their fingers and leading her towards the kitchen which opens into a dining room.

"The kitchen is a little small," Rachel notes.

"Baby, you don't cook," Quinn responds quietly, deciding that she's not entirely against using her womanly wiles to get this apartment. The neighbourhood is great, there are cafes up and down the street, all of which serve a variety of coffees, and it's on her bus route to work.

"I could cook," Rachel grumbles.

"You won't cook," Quinn laughs. "Come on, we need to check out the bedroom."

She pulls Rachel down the hall and into their new bedroom. Positive thinking, Quinn decides. It will be their bedroom. Rachel takes a few steps into the room and folds her arms, surveying it pensively.

"Walk-in closet," Quinn says in a sing-song voice. "Our own balcony." She walks behind the shorter woman, snaking her arms around Rachel's waist. "You have no idea how much I want you on that balcony." Quinn's voice lowers to a growl.

"We'll take it," Rachel shivers and turns to grin at the realtor. "We'll take it."

"I'll organise the paperwork, Miss Fabray," the realtor says with a wide grin.

"Thank you, Nancy," Quinn says, walking over to shake the woman's hand. "Really, thank you."

Nancy gives her a final smile and leaves the room, heading back to the lounge to plan her celebratory drinks for finally finding somewhere for the impossible Miss Berry to live. Still, the couple hasn't broken her record for the most viewings before signing the dotted line. That honour goes to an actor and his much younger girlfriend. She puts in a call to her office informing them of the news.

"I love it," Quinn says, leading the brunette into one of the other bedrooms. "We can convert this into a studio or maybe leave it as a guest bedroom for when our parents visit?"

"Tell me more about the balcony," Rachel says, a devilish smile crossing her features.

xxxxx

Quinn sinks to the floor, dusting her hands against her denim shorts. She closes her eyes for a brief second before footsteps interrupt her attempt to catch a quick nap.

"Where are Santana and Brittany?" Rachel asks, peering out the door.

"They're taking a breather down at the truck," Quinn says, sliding further down the wall. "There are only a couple of boxes to go."

"And the boys?"

"Coffee run," Quinn murmurs, already relishing the taste of the strong Columbian coffee she'll be drinking for the third time that day. "You look surprisingly chipper. How many boxes did you lift up here?" She knows perfectly well that the answer is five. Two less than Kurt has lifted up the stairs.

"I've been supervising," Rachel says, rolling her eyes.

"You're doing a great job, honey," Quinn says, curling up into a ball on the floor. "Just wake me when the coffee gets here."

There's a thud near her head and she opens her eyes to see Rachel sitting inches away.

"Come here," Rachel says, pulling Quinn's head into her lap.

"I'm so tired," Quinn mumbles. "And hot. And disgusting. I need a shower."

"We'll take a shower together as soon as the others leave," Rachel promises, bending down to push her lips against the exhausted blonde's. "I might have promised Brittany and Santana dinner though."

"What about the boys?"

"They have plans with some of Blaine's friends," Rachel says. "We'll order early. Santana has been bitching all day about how she's spending her second last weekend in New York doing this instead of taking Britt to a Yankees game."

"Be nice," Quinn says, reaching up to twist a lock of Rachel's hair around her finger.

"I'm always nice," Rachel grins against Quinn's lips. "I'm going to miss them."

"Them?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow and chuckles as Rachel blushes.

"Yes, them," Rachel says. "Just because Santana doesn't like me…"

"She does!" Quinn insists far too quickly. "She just has a funny way of showing it sometimes."

"Joanne called while you were downstairs," Rachel says, changing the subject far too casually. Quinn's half-closed eyes rocket open. Rachel determinedly keeps her expression indifferent though inside, her internal organs are doing backflips.

"And?" the blonde urges. "Did you get the part? You got the part, right?" Rachel makes a face and starts to shake her head. "You're lying, aren't you? Rachel Berry, you got the part, didn't you?"

"I got the part," Rachel squeals and Quinn sits up, engulfing the shorter woman in a hug. "I'm meeting the rest of the cast on Friday then we start rehearsals on Monday."

"I'm so proud of you," Quinn says. "Broadway superstar."

"Thanks, Van Gogh," Rachel replies, nuzzling into Quinn's neck. Quinn groans.

"You are no longer allowed to give me nicknames."

"You love them really," Rachel murmurs, her lips tickling Quinn's neck. The blonde shivers and pulls away, shaking her head. They're interrupted by Santana's voice, complaining loudly, as she and Brittany climb up the final flight of stairs.

"You guys couldn't have picked a place with an elevator?" she says, placing a box marked 'Unused Kitchen Stuff' on the floor. She thumps down onto the floor, dragging Brittany with her. "There are two more boxes. We thought you'd like the pleasure of bringing them up here on your own."

"Thoughtful," Quinn says, winking at her former roommate. "Come on, Rach."

"But I'm supervising," Rachel pouts but springs to her feet when Santana glares at her. "Coming! There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourselves!" she trills and takes off down the stairs after Quinn. The blonde easily hauls herself up into the truck and brings the final two boxes to the door.

"This is it, babe," she says, jumping down next to Rachel. "You have that look. What's that look for?"

"Y'know," Rachel says, stepping in closer, eyebrows waggling up at the blonde. Her hands settle on Quinn's hips.

"Really, Rachel?" Quinn asks, folding her arms across her chest as she leans backwards from the brunette. "Even though I'm gross and sweaty and disgusting?"

"You have a point," Rachel responds, sniffing dramatically and taking a few steps backwards from her girlfriend. "Yuck." Quinn is about to give chase when the smell of strong coffee assails her senses.

"Coffee!" Kurt announces, rounding the side of the truck and passing a cup to Quinn. She seizes it hungrily and takes a long sip.

"Perfection," she sighs, leaning against the truck.

"I have no idea how you can drink that on a day like this," Blaine says, sipping something orange and iced. "Are these the last boxes?"

"Yup!" Rachel says, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

"Thank god," Kurt says, finishing the rest of his latte. "Has Joanne called yet? You said she was phoning before four…" Rachel nods so quickly that her head nearly falls off. "Well, that answers the question of whether or not you got the part! Congratulations!" He wraps her up in a hug so tight that she nearly drops her coffee. "I can't wait! Broadway! We'll go out and celebrate this week?"

"Of course," Rachel says, leading Kurt up the steps into the building.

"Don't worry, babe," Quinn calls after her. "We've got the boxes."

"That's great, sweetie!" Rachel calls over her shoulder, flashing Quinn a winning smile before turning back to Kurt and disappearing inside. Blaine and Quinn share a slightly exasperated look before heaving the boxes out of the truck and following after their significant others.

"Are you guys planning on moving again anytime soon?" Blaine asks as they make their way up the first flight of stairs.

"Not if I have any say in the matter," Quinn puffs, arms already feeling the strain. Blaine chuckles.

"Do we ever have any say in the matter?" he asks.

"Touché," Quinn says grimly.

xxxxx

Rachel groans, squeezing her eyes shut. It's too early. It's too early and last night, they drank too much. Why is the sun shining on her face? Who has opened the curtains? What is that scratching noise? She cracks one eye open and glances to her left, unsurprised to find Quinn's side of the bed empty. Even with a hangover, Quinn never stays in bed longer than she has to.

"Try not to move too much," a quiet voice interrupts her thoughts and she glances over to the right. Quinn's face is half-hidden by a sketch pad.

"And the award for the world's creepiest girlfriend goes to…" Rachel mutters, closing her eyes again.

"Good morning to you, my little ray of sunshine," Quinn chuckles, turning her pencil around to erase the line she's just drawn. Rachel grumbles and reaches for a pillow, throwing it towards Quinn. It misses by a little more than three feet.

"Morning," Rachel responds, rolling onto her side and bending her arm to prop herself up.

"And the award for the world's most disobedient girlfriend goes to…" Quinn says, raising an eyebrow at her girlfriend. "Lie down again. I'm nearly finished."

"Nearly finished? How long have you been up?"

"Couple of hours," Quinn replies, focusing on her drawing again.

"We got home a couple of hours ago!" Rachel says, rolling onto her back again.

"I felt inspired," Quinn murmurs, starting to shade, eyes darting up to her subject. Rachel doesn't respond but smiles up at the ceiling. She lets the blonde continue in silence, feeling her eyes begin to droop.

"Are you drawing me like one of your French girls?" intones Rachel in an uncanny impression of Kate Winslet.

Quinn snorts and starts to shake her head.

"You're insane," Quinn murmurs. "And there was only one French girl."

"Liar," Rachel grins a lazy smile and closes her eyes once more until a horrific memory screams into her mind. "Oh my god," she exclaims, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"Stop moving," Quinn urges. "What's wrong?"

"Santana… we… she…"

Quinn begins to laugh, lowering her sketch pad as her girlfriend groans and reaches for a pillow, holding it over her head.

"Hey, stop that," Quinn chides her. "It wasn't that bad."

"I did shots of tequila off her stomach, Quinn," Rachel moans from beneath the pillow. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I was pleased to see you both finally getting along. Please move the pillow, you've messed up your hair."

Rachel shoves the pillow back towards the top of the bed and falls silent once more, cringing as she recalls their half-walk, half-stumble home. Quinn raises the pad and continues shading.

"Think of something else," Quinn mutters. "I can't draw you all… frowny."

"Not a word," Rachel whispers, lips curling into a smile. "This reminds me of Thanksgiving."

"Which one?" Quinn asks, biting her tongue between her teeth as she adds in a few more lines.

"The first one," Rachel says. "The first time you stayed the whole night. I woke up and you were curled up on my desk chair, scribbling furiously on a pad of paper."

"I wanted to finish it before you woke up," Quinn says, holding the pad out to inspect her work. She frowns and brings it close again, shading a little more. "You told me that I could be an artist."

"And look at you now," Rachel says, pride flowing from her words. "Your own studio, exhibitions…"

"Shhh," Quinn says, rolling her eyes and holding up the drawing one more time. She sighs and scribbles a note at the bottom before signing it. She rips it from the pad and climbs out of the chair, stretching her legs before walking to the bed.

"Can I move now?" Rachel asks, eyes half-lidded.

"Not if you don't want to," Quinn replies, kneeling on the bed above her girlfriend. "Here."

Rachel reaches out for the drawing, holding it delicately.

"It's gorgeous," she breathes.

"Of course it is," Quinn blushes, straightening out her tanktop and watching Rachel's eyes feast greedily on every square inch of her drawing. Her eyes fall on the note in the bottom right corner and she smiles.

"Always a note," she murmurs.

Just as beautiful as you were the first time.

Love you, always

Q x

"Sap," Rachel mutters, brushing at her eyes.

"Your sap," Quinn says, placing the drawing to one side and bending down to kiss the brunette's cheek.

"My sap," Rachel agrees, gently guiding Quinn's lips to hers. "Always."