Chapter Twenty-One

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Quinn

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i have seven different words for love.
you have only one.
that makes a lot of sense.

.

Valentine's Day is mine, and our one-month is Rachel's.

Despite our talk on Sunday, I'm certain whatever disjoint we're suffering has been only averted and not resolved. She clearly wants something from me that I'm unwilling and unable to give her, though I'm still unsure as to what exactly that is. I mean, of course, I have an idea... but I'm not a mindreader. And, even if I was, I doubt I would be able to make sense of whatever is probably going on in Rachel's mind.

I spend majority of my Monday planning for Valentine's Day and executing all I need to, in order to ensure it all goes off without a hitch. My mother is suspiciously going to be out, and I'm not going to question her about it. I'm going to put the fact that I'll have the house to myself to good use. I suspect she has a date she won't tell me about. I mean, I have a date I won't tell her about. We make quite the pair, don't we?

This year, McKinley is doing a lot for Valentine's Day compared to last year, when they did absolutely nothing. Admittedly, part of my job as student class president was to delegate and put together committees to handle the two initiatives. The first, which I'm rather proud of, allows a person to purchase a heart-shaped Valentine for whomever they want, choosing the sender and receiver's name and including a short note. The heart won't be delivered to the respective party. Instead, all the hearts are going to be strung up in the corridors of the school and, if you find one dedicated to you, you can take it down and return it to your sender... and live happily ever after.

The second initiative involves Glee. Sam came up with the idea of having 'singing telegrams.' Essentially, senders can purchase a song to be dedicated and sung to whomever they want and three separate groups of Glee kids will go around during lunch to deliver them. There's only a set amount we can do, of course, but I liked the idea so much I made sure it happened. Mr Schuester also believes it will help raise awareness about the club as a whole. Captain Rachel Berry was especially grateful, and she told me plenty of times.

With her mouth. Right into my own.

I contemplate which initiative to go for when it comes to Rachel. A singing telegram seems the best way, seeing as she loves music and she's a sucker for songs sung for - and to - her. It has to be anonymous - well, as anonymous as it can get - and I have to slip the request in without anyone noticing. I'm part of a subgroup for the telegrams and I make sure we're the ones who sing to Rachel. I just hope I can get through the song without completely giving myself away because she's a much better actress than I am. Still, I'm willing to risk it. I can't resist the temptation.

I've literally never been this excited about Valentine's Day in my life. I never used to put in effort with Finn, and his idea of romance involved coupons and breadsticks. He was always sweet about it, buying me a card and getting me flowers and chocolates. I don't know if it's different when there are two girls in the relationship or if I'm just different when I'm with Rachel, but I just know I'm trying this time. Maybe it's because it's our first one. I just want nothing more than to keep her smiling all day. It's exciting.

And, when I wake up on Tuesday morning, I'm literally buzzing. Before I get out of bed, I reach for my phone and immediately start to text Rachel, and then stop. No. This isn't part of my plan, and I vowed to stick to my plan. But I want to text her. I can't. I set down my phone, take a calming breath and then roll out of bed. I get ready quickly because I'm expected at school early to oversee the committees as they continue with the setup. I practically race out of the house, grabbing an apple on my way.

As soon as I get to school, I go straight to Rachel's locker. She doesn't know I know her combination, but I do. I glance around, making sure I'm alone, and then I get to work. It takes an obscene amount of time, but I'm done well before I have to meet with my committee so we can finish up stringing up all the hearts. We've managed to raise quite a bit of money, which we're planning on donating to the orphanage on Grayston Road.

It's a little embarrassing how many hearts are addressed to Quinn Fabray and a freshman boy, Murray Laing, laughs every time he picks one out of the bucket. I can only roll my eyes. What else am I supposed to do? I can only imagine what the other teams are thinking as they string up all the Quinn Fabrays.

"Do you find it weird?" Murray asks. "Or are you just used to it by now?"

I glance at him over my shoulder. He's young and unafraid, with a baby face. He's brave, I'll give him that. Not everyone is willing to ask me a question, whatever it is. "I don't think anyone can get used to it," I say to him, deciding to be candid. "It'd be different if they were interested in me for me, but they see only my appearance."

He nods thoughtfully, as he hands me another heart. "People can be superficial sometimes," he agrees. "But even you have to admit you are pretty."

I frown at how simple the words sound when he says them. It's a compliment, but he's saying it as if it's just a truth. A fact. Like, he isn't at all interested and, instead of being relieved, it makes me turn to look at him. "Is that your objective opinion?"

"It is," he says simply.

I meet his gaze. "This isn't your trying to ask me out, is it," I say. It's not a question.

"Definitely not," he answers anyway.

I hear what he's not saying. I'm not his type, in the sense that my body parts don't interest him. "Well, that's refreshing," I say.

"It is?"

I nod. "Do you have anything planned for Valentine's Day?" I ask, switching topics.

"My friends and I are enjoying an evening of 'I Hate Valentine's Day,' and wallowing in our respective bitterness because none of us have - " he stops suddenly. Girlfriends. Boyfriends.

"Significant others," I finish for him.

He looks panicked for a moment but he eventually nods, and then he relaxes when I offer him an understanding smile. "Nobody really knows," he says.

"But you know," I return, which is half of the battle, really.

"And my family, and my best friend. He's also..." he trails off, frowning slightly.

"My best friends are also gay," I say, unafraid of using the word. I don't want him to shy away from the word, even if I probably would.

"I know," he says. "Everyone knows. It - it helps."

"I'm glad," I tell him, wondering where the guilt I suddenly feel is coming from. Santana and Brittany are just so proud of their love and their relationship that they're unafraid to hide it in the corridors. People see and, regardless of what those people say, they just live their lives for themselves. It helps kids like Murray; makes it okay to try to be open; shows them that coming out in this place isn't the be all and end all. I can only wonder what I would be able to accomplish if I were brave enough.

"Even if Santana scares the shit out of me," he comments, drawing my attention.

I laugh out loud. "You're not alone there, Murray," I say. "She scares me too."

He also laughs, and it's a happy sound, young and carefree. He hands me another few hearts, and I start putting them up. "Wait," I say. "If you hate Valentine's Day so much, why did you sign up for this committee?"

He looks guilty. "I don't hate Valentine's Day," he confesses; "but he does."

I raise my eyebrows. "A crush?"

He nods.

I grin. "Ooh."

He blushes beet red. "He doesn't know."

"Any plans to tell him?"

He shakes his head vigorously. "No ways!"

"Think about it?"

"Maybe."

I smile encouragingly.

"Do you have plans for Valentine's Day?"

I smile at him, playful. "Oh, Murray, you have no idea."

I'm waiting for Rachel at her locker when she finally arrives, unable to contain my smile. Honestly, just the sight of her is making me giddy and I'm not even ashamed to admit it... to her, only. She's dressed in a sinfully short skirt, knee-high socks and a pretty pink pea coat, with a red ribbon in her hair. She's fully embracing this day. "Hi," I breathe, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms and never let go.

"Hello, you," she says, giving me the biggest smile I've ever seen. It's blinding.

I hug her. Just to save my eyes.

"Baby, you're going to have to let me go," she whispers in my ear, and I force myself to release her and step back.

I drop my hands to my sides and take in everything I can about her. She's beautiful, really, in that way that catches you off guard. She doesn't believe she's a conventional beauty - she's probably right - but, to me, she's the most stunning person I've ever seen. Inside and out.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" she asks, and it takes considerable effort for me to school my features as she turns to face her locker. "Quinn?"

"I'm just really looking forward to tonight," I tell her.

She blushes, as if on command, and lifts her hand to input her combination. "Oh?"

I nod. "I have so much planned for us," I say, and her eyes close for a beat.

"Do I get any clues?"

"Of course not."

She huffs, and then sighs as she turns the lock. So. Damn. Slowly. "I know today is your day, but does that mean I can't do something for you too?"

"I'm not against it, if that's what you're asking," I say, suddenly nervous.

"Good," she says, grinning at me and pausing in her locker-opening. Jesus, woman, just open the damn locker. "So, you know, look out for one of those hearts."

My eyes widen. "Rachel, you didn't?"

"I did."

"Seriously?"

She nods. "I realise there are many addressed to Quinn Fabray, but I promise to make it very worth your while if you can find mine."

I suck in a breath. "Rachel."

She winks at me, and then swings open her locker door. She gasps out loud, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open in surprise. I just watch her face, waiting for her to recover. "Oh, my God," she squeaks, her head turning but her eyes staying. "Quinn Fabray."

"Yes, dear."

She lets out a breath. "Did you seriously just pimp out my locker?"

I laugh. "I would have used the term 'bedazzled,' but, okay, we'll go with that."

Her eyes meet mine. "Quinn, this is amazing," she breathes. "Thank you."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Rachel Berry," I whisper, and our eyes stay locked for the longest time.

It takes a shout from somewhere down the corridor to break the spell, which makes me move to stand behind her, uncomfortably close, and peer into the locker with her. It's a lot. She already had a mirror and several pictures in her door, but I definitely spiced it up. I kind of went crazy with the bedazzle gun this morning, putting on borders within borders. I added pictures as well, including our favourite kitchen picture. It's a small print because it's a risk having it there if anyone decides to look too closely. Even though we were still just friends back then, it's a very intimate picture. I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I see the way we looked at each other even then.

There are also battery-operated fairy lights hanging from the roof of the locker, with a plethora of gold stars lining the sides and back, and a curtain of beads pulled to the sides across the front.

"It really is amazing, Quinn," she says, turning around to look at me. We're standing way too close, but I can't bring myself to take that step back that I really need to. "I never thought there would be a day I would actually be excited to visit my locker."

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Thank you," she says again. "I love it."

I bite my bottom lip. "I was worried," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

She touches my forearm - all she'll allow herself. "I love it, Quinn," she repeats. "I love you."

I hug her again because I can't kiss her in this corridor, as much as I want to. I, once again, tell myself I'll do it one day. Before we leave this place, I'll meet her at her locker and I'll kiss her, and everyone will know she's mine. Everyone will know I'm happy and in love with this little human being who makes me feel as large as the great big world.

The entire Glee Club meets in the choir room as soon as lunch starts. I organised for coffee and sandwiches, which I make them all wolf down before sending them off in their little groups. I'm singing with Mercedes, Artie, Joe and Sam in the first group. Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, Mike and Tina make up the second group; and Finn, Brittany, Santana, Puck, Lauren and Sugar are in the third. They already know what they're singing, and they'll learn to whom as they move through the lists I compiled. I'm just hoping the school doesn't hate us any more than they already do by the end of this.

It's starts off well. Each song takes roughly six to eight minutes to execute, which includes finding the receiver, explaining what we're doing there, setting up and then actually singing. Joes yields his guitar, and we get through Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Heroes featuring Adam Levine, At Last by Etta James and That's The Way Love Goes by Janet Jackson before I excuse myself to check on how the other groups are doing. I catch sight of Rachel's group just finishing off All You Need Is Love by the Beatles, and I can't help smiling to myself.

I'm standing, arms folded, in the middle of the tables of the outdoor area of the cafeteria, watching as people enjoy the sunshine even though there's a chill in the air, when I hear someone say my name.

"Quinn?"

I recognise the voice as Finn's, and I flinch. I really don't need this right now but I still turn around to look at him. "What's up, Finn?"

He clears his throat, and looks over his shoulder at his Glee subgroup. "Well, we have a singing telegram from you," he says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

I shake my head. "But I was sure to remove all the ones for me," I say, because they would have spent the entire lunch hour singing to me if I hadn't.

He shrugs helplessly. "I suppose this one snuck through," he says, smiling dopily.

I frown. "Do you know who it's from?"

"No idea," he says, a little too quickly, and I wonder if Rachel managed to sneak a song into the set. "We hope you enjoy it." He winks - Finn Hudson actually winks - and then steps back into position. I look helplessly at Santana and she just shakes her head. She clearly doesn't know from where the song came either.

But, really, from the first line Finn sings, we both suddenly just know. Everyone does. "I've made up my mind, to live in memory of the lonesome times," he sings the first lines of Ray Charles' I Can't Stop Loving You, and please tell me this is not happening right now. I want to tell them to stop, but I don't even know what I'd say. This is so embarrassing, and everyone is looking. Including Rachel.

"(I can't stop wanting you)," Santana, Brittany and Sugar sing.

"It's useless to say, so I'll just live my life in dreams of yesterday."

"(Dreams of yesterday)."

And, now Puck is singing but it's clear the words are coming from someone else. "Those happy hours that we once knew. Tho' long ago, they still make me blue. They say that time heals a broken heart, but time has stood still since we've been apart."

Lauren picks it up, and I force myself not to hide my face. I must be bright red. "I've made up my mind to live in memories of the lonesome times."

"(I can't stop wanting you)."

"It's useless to say, so I'll just live my life in dreams of yesterday."

Finn grins at me, and this time I do roll my eyes. What is wrong with him? "Those happy hours..."

"(That we once knew)," the rest of the group overlaps.

"...That we once knew."

"(Tho' long ago)."

"Tho' long ago..."

"(Still make me blue)."

"...Still ma-a-a-ake me blue."

"(They say that time)."

"They say that time..."

"(Heals a broken heart)."

"...Heals a broken heart."

"(But time has stood still)."

"Time has stood still."

"(Since we've been apart)."

"...Since we've been apart." He cocks his head to the side. Jesus. "I said I made up my mind to live in memory of the lonesome times. It's useless to say, so I'll just live my life of dreams of yesterday."

"(Of yesterday)."

When the song ends, I'm lost for words, and Finn looks at me with hopeful eyes. "Uh..." I struggle. "Wow." Because, wow.

"I know, right?" Santana comments, and I'm grateful for the interruption. "Come on, losers, we have like a thousand more songs to do." Finn hesitates, clearly wanting to talk to me about something - maybe find out my thoughts on the song - but Santana practically growls. "Hudson! Let's move it!" He casts me one last look, before backing away and disappearing through the outside tables.

"Well," Mercedes says, coming to stand beside me. "That was uncomfortable."

I groan. "I thought I hid it better," I mutter.

"You did," she says. "I was just uncomfortable for you."

I let out a small laugh, just as my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I fish it out immediately and check the newest message.

Berry: You are MINE.

I smile widely, and glance over at where Rachel is currently sitting, resting.

Quinn: And I'm about to prove it.

I watch for the moment her eyes widen and her head snaps towards me. I take it as my cue, and turn towards my group. "Are you guys ready for the next one?"

Mercedes nods her head, and checks the clipboard. "The next one is for... Rachel."

I smile internally, a picture of poise on the outside. "Oh?"

Mercedes frowns slightly. "Apparently."

"Hmm," I hum.

"Hmm, indeed."

I want to laugh, but I hold it together just enough to start moving towards where Rachel's group looks prepared to start on another song. We don't have much time to catch them, but Mercedes saves me by calling out for them to stop.

"Rachel," Mercedes says, smiling through her previous confusion. "We have a singing telegram for you."

Rachel's eyes widen and they decidedly do not look my way. "You - you do?"

"We do," Mercedes clarifies, checking the clipboard again. "It's from, uh - " she looks at me " - does that say four?"

I drop my eyes to the clipboard. "Four-point-oh, yes," I say, and Mercedes frowns.

"Weird," she comments, before turning to Rachel. "It's from, uh, four-point-oh, which literally means nothing."

It means everything.

"Anyway, please, sit down and enjoy."

Rachel glances nervously at me, but she does eventually sit down on a tabletop. Blaine sits down beside her and grins knowingly at me. I don't know if I communicate to him that he needs to keep Rachel from flinging herself at me at any point before, during and after the song, but hey.

Joe strums his guitar, and I take a deep breath. I'm leading this one, and I smile when the first words to Secret Love Song by Little Mix featuring Jason Derulo leave my mouth.

"When you hold me in the street and you kiss me on the dance floor, I wish that it could be like that. Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours." I can feel my heart rate rising, even if the first few lines are slow and meaningful. "We keep behind closed doors. Every time I see you, I die a little more. Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls. It'll never be enough."

Mercedes picks it up, and I step back reluctantly. "It's obvious you're meant for me. Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly. Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep, but I'll never show it on my face."

"But we know this. We got a love that is homeless," Joe sings.

Sam sings next, and I cringe. Not because of his voice, but because he's singing to my girlfriend. "Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that. Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours."

Next is Artie, and his voice is silky smooth, taking care of Jason Derulo's first part with practiced ease. "When you're with him, do you call his name like you do when you're with me? Does it feel the same? Would you leave if I was ready to settle down, or would you play it safe and stay? Girl, you know this. We got a love that is hopeless."

I sing the next lines, making sure I'm looking right into Rachel's eyes. "Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that. Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours."

Joe joins in, a certain grit to his voice, as he trades lines with Mercedes. "And nobody knows I'm in love with someone's baby."

"I don't wanna hide us away."

"Tell the world about the love we're making."

"I'm living for that day."

And they sing the next line together, giving me shivers. "Someday."

I sing slow and low, controlled in the simplicity of the words. "Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that. Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours." She needs to know I'm hers; nobody else's.

Mercedes goes for the big note, and completely crushes it. Rachel even looks at her in awe, and I'm a little jealous. "I'm yoouurs."

The rest of the song goes on in overlapping lines among all five of us, with Artie and Mercedes leading the runs, and Sam and Joe enjoying the raised tempo. Sam even spins me as we sing, but my eyes are decidedly on a certain wide-eyed brunette. "Oh, why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that. Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours. Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftop. I wish that it could be like that. Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours."

And, finally, when the music dies down, I finish the song just as I started it, my heart thundering in my chest. "Why can't we be like that? Wish we could be like that."

Rachel is beaming at me and, before I know it, she's launched herself at me and I stumble slightly. The hug is quick - she risks pressing a kiss to the side of my neck - and then she releases me, her face giving away so much love and affection. Catching herself, she hugs Sam, Joe and Artie, thanking them for their lovely voices.

Mercedes then pulls Rachel into a warm hug, and immediately releases her, hands on her shoulders. "Girl, I have so many questions."

And Rachel's unbridled affection she had for me moments earlier morphs into an unadulterated glower in my direction.

All I can do is laugh and laugh.

"I hate you."

I can't help my laugh, even as I feel Rachel slip her arms around my waist and press her front against my back. She's warm as she nuzzles her nose against the back of my shoulder, breathing me in.

"Why would you do that to me?" she complains, her hands sliding along my stomach and making my abdominal muscles dance. "I've had to field questions about my secret lover all day."

I casually stir the risotto in the pan one last time and turn the burner off, so I can turn and give her my full attention. "And what did you tell them?"

"What could I tell them?" she asks, exasperated, and I slip my arms around her neck, kissing her forehead. "I had no idea where the song came from and I was definitely flattered... And then I had to field questions about why I wasn't more interested in finding out who the song came from."

"Sounds like you had quite the day," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of her perfect mouth.

She huffs. "Why would you do that to me?"

"It was all part of my plan," I confess.

She raises her eyebrows. "What plan?"

I pull her into a tight hug. "Nope," I say. "You're not getting anything out me."

"I could try."

I breathe out at the obvious meaning in her tone, and release her. "Go to the living room," I say. "Dinner's almost ready."

"And now you're sending me away?" She sighs. "Without even kissing me first, no less. Honestly, you're being a questionable girlfriend right now."

I arch an eyebrow. "If you keep up this sulking, I'm not going to feed you," I warn. "And I slaved away over those cashew and spinach stuffed shells and this farro risotto with butternut squash and kale all afternoon." I'm exaggerating, of course, because I did most of my prep last night, but she doesn't need to know that.

Her eyes flutter. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Go," I say, and she goes. It takes me a few minutes to dish out all the food I've prepared onto the necessary plates and lay them all out on a tray. I'm nervous, yes, because today is Valentine's Day and we're alone in my house and I have a plan. I'm respecting her decision to wait - I think it's the right one - but that doesn't mean I'm not going to woo her as much as I can.

I find Rachel sitting in the middle of the carpet where I set out a light blanket and pillows for our own indoor picnic dinner. There's soft music already playing. It's a playlist I made last night, putting on all the most romantic songs I could find, old and new. She's absently singing along to Lana Del Rey's Love when I walk in, and I can't stop my smile if I tried.

She gushes just the appropriate amount when I set the tray down in the centre of the blanket before she proceeds to torture me with content moans and her mouth working her cutlery. I know she's teasing me, and she knows it's working. Little minx.

"Thank you for dinner," she says, all innocence when I'm hot and bothered. "It was delectable." There's emphasis on the last word as she flicks her tongue, and it takes an obscene amount of control not to launch myself at her. That is not part of the plan.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I force out.

Her gaze meets mine. "I did. Very much."

I swallow nervously, and start to clear the dishes. I think she's mad that I haven't kissed her yet, and I'm not going to until I have her exactly where I want her. So, I make a few trips to the kitchen, cleaning up, and then bring out some vegan ice-cream for dessert. She squeals in surprise, and tortures me some more. It's amazing what Rachel Berry can do with a spoon, really. I can barely take my eyes off her.

When Tattooed Heart by Ariana Grande plays on the music system, Rachel turns to me and gasps, abandoning her ice cream. "Quinn!"

I let out a small laugh. "Yes, dear."

She grins at the term of endearment, and then leans into me, her face a mere inch from mine. "I still don't know where your tattoo is."

I steal a kiss because I can't help it. My plan is failing. She's just so close. "It seems you don't, yes," I tell her, reading her surprise at the fact I kissed her. "I have to say you're being very good about not pestering me about it."

"I'm respecting your decision to keep it private," she says.

"But it's eating away at you, isn't it?"

"God, yes," she breathes.

I laugh, stealing another kiss. She's just too kissable, and she's so close, and her hand is on my thigh now and why does she smell so good? We kiss once, twice and, when I start to pull away - trying to get back on track - she follows, keeping our lips attached. This isn't part of the plan but I suddenly won't say no to this kind of deviation.

Eventually, I have to pull away because we can't have too late a night. We do have school in the morning.

"I have something for you," I tell her, ignoring her pout. "I think you'll like it."

"What is it?"

"First, you have to get off me," I tell her, and she begrudgingly does. I stand, take hold of her hand and lead her to what was once my father's study. It's empty of his things now, but it still houses the baby grand piano I first started taking lessons on when I was four years old. All Fabrays had to have numerous talents, and the ability to play the piano was chosen as one of mine. My sister's was the violin. Somehow, I'm sure I got the better deal, though mine is decidedly more difficult to carry around.

Rachel's eyes widen at the sight of it because it truly is impressive. Nothing but the best for Russell Fabray, remember? "Are you going to play for me?" she asks, her excited eyes turning to look at me.

"I might even do you one better," I tease, and she dutifully takes her seat at the piano bench. I let out an amused chuckle as I sit down on her left side and lift the cover, revealing the perfect ivory. "I realise the first time I sang you a song, you had a bit of a freakout."

She scoffs. "A bit."

I smile gently. "So, I've decided to sing all my next ones in private, in case something goes wrong."

She just hums, her eyes shining with deep affection.

Before I let it overwhelm me, I take a breath and move my hands into position. I practiced a few times, but it feels very different now that Rachel is sitting right beside me; exactly where I want her. Despite my sudden nerves, I begin to play Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, in an attempt to tell her something without actually telling her.

"We'll do it all, everything, on our own," I sing, and she rests her head on my shoulder, her hand sliding onto my thigh. "We don't need anything, or anyone. If I lay here, if I just lay here; would you lie with me and just forget the world?" I adjust my position slightly, in order to make it easier to cross my left arm over my right to play the higher note. "I don't quite know how to say how I feel. Those three words are said too much; they're not enough."

Her hand tightens on my thigh at the sound of those lines, and I suddenly wish I were a mindreader.

"If I lay here, if I just lay here; would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told, before we get too old, show me a garden that's bursting into life. Let's waste time, chasing cars, around our heads. I need your grace to remind me; to find my own."

She starts to hum along with my singing. "If I lay here, if I just lay here; would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told, before we get too old, show me a garden that's bursting into life." I stop to take a breath, my fingers moving over the keys at a slower pace. "All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see. I don't know where, confused about how as well, just know that these things will never change for us at all."

Now, my fingers are barely pressing the keys down, but there's still sound. I can hear our breathing. "If I lay here, if I just lay here; would you lie with me and just forget the world?" As soon as I've played the last note, Rachel sighs contently and places a hand over my right one on the keys.

"I would," she says seriously. "I would lie with you forever, Quinn."

I know this is the moment. This is the moment I'm supposed to tell her that I love her, but the words won't come out. I'm just so afraid of them, and they won't leave my mouth, even if I want them to. So, instead, I kiss her, slowly and deeply. I turn my hand and interlace our fingers, palm to palm. I never want to stop touching her. I just - I want her closer.

I pull away slowly, lips lingering. "So," I say. "I have something else planned."

She looks a little dazed. "Oh?"

I nod. "But you're going to have to get changed."

She frowns in confusion. "Into what?"

I take a deep breath. "A bikini."

Her frown deepens. "Baby, you do know it's February in Ohio, right?"

"Can you please just put on your bikini?" I say. "I promise it'll be worth it."

"Oh?"

"Do you or do you not want to know where my tattoo is?"

At the sound of that, she practically leaps off the piano bench. "Oh, my God! Okay, I'm going to change right now." She starts to go, but then backtracks. "Uh, I didn't bring a bikini."

"I brought it for you," I inform her. "I laid it out on my bed. Meet you back here in a few minutes?"

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I did."

She squeaks again, and then races off. I wait a beat before I stand and go out onto the back porch to set up the next part of my Valentine's plan. I'm both nervous and excited about this part but I'm looking forward to it. Well, I look forward to everything to do with her. Deeming the outside ready, I go back inside to change into my bikini and slip on a t-shirt over it. My feet are bare as I pad back to the library, sit on the piano bench and wait.

Rachel arrives five minutes later, clad in her own t-shirt with a towel in her hands. My eyes drop to her legs immediately and they widen. Did she always have those? "Uh, Quinn," she says, and my gaze snaps up. "My eyes are up here, baby."

I flush instantly. "Well, I don't want to touch your eyes."

Now, it's her turn to blush. "What are we doing?"

I rise to my feet slowly, a thin scarf in my hand. "Well, first, you're going to have to put this on."

She raises her eyebrows. "Are you being serious?"

"As a heart attack."

She sighs dramatically. "You're lucky I trust you."

"I am, yes," I say as I move towards her. As gently as I can, I blindfold her, tying a loose knot behind her head. I can't resist kissing her and, after her initial surprise, she kisses me back, attempting to slide her tongue into my mouth. I pull back. "Na ah," I murmur, desperately trying to ignore her pout. "Not yet." I place my hands on her shoulders and turn her slowly. Carefully, I guide her towards the back of the house and out the glass sliding doors onto the wooden porch. I bring us to a stop. "Don't move," I tell her, reluctantly removing my hands.

I make quick work of increasing the volume on the music and retrieving the heart Valentine I painstakingly searched for after Cheerios practice. Really, I scoured every corridor of that school - there are many, by the way - until I found it. It didn't help that it wasn't even addressed to Quinn Fabray. My girlfriend is too smart for her own good, and I smile as I reread it for what must be the hundredth time.

Dearest Miss Four-Point-Oh GPA

You're SO stinking cute, and you make me VERY happy.

I love you.

- your little star

"Quinn," Rachel complains, and I snap to attention.

I chuckle. "Almost ready." I move back to stand behind her, hold the Valentine in front of her face and take a calming breath. "Okay... you can remove your blindfold now."

She lifts the scarf so quickly, I have to laugh, even when she knocks my arm in her haste. She gasps at the sight of the Valentine and immediately grabs for it. "Oh, my God, you found it!" She spins to look at me, ignoring everything else. "I can't believe you actually found it."

"It wasn't easy," I inform her. "But, thank you."

She still looks mystified that I found the Valentine, and I get a long, lingering kiss as a reward. "I mean every word, you know? You are stinking cute. You do make me happy, and I do love you."

I lick my lips. "Honestly, I'm not going for cute right now," I say.

"Oh? What are you going for then?"

I spin her around so she can take in the back porch and she immediately steps back into me. She's never really been out here before, so she doesn't know we have a hot tub. Well, she does now. The lighting is dim out here - I set up fairy lights earlier - but I can still see the flush rising up her neck and cheeks. There's champagne and roses and chocolate-covered strawberries, and now my nervousness is back.

"Quinn," she breathes.

I hum.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

I don't respond as I move around her and step up close to the hot tub. I can feel her eyes on me as I lift a leg over the edge and step into the water. It's warm, but I still shiver. Once both legs are inside, I move to stand in the centre and turn to look at Rachel. The hem of my t-shirt is getting wet, so I lift my arms. "Are you coming in or not?" I ask.

She jerks into motion immediately and practically skips forward. She also keeps her t-shirt on when she first gets into the water, and more of hers gets wet than mine does. Oh, to be shorter. She's just too cute.

"Hi," I say.

She smiles up at me. "Hi," she breathes. Then: "Are you going to show me your tattoo now?"

I laugh. "I could," I say. "Or you could find it for yourself."

"Oh?" she sounds, cocking her head to the side.

I swallow audibly, and just about manage a nod. Why is she looking at me like that? "Unless... you don't want to," I offer, backtracking nervously. "I mean, I don't want to assume anything. We really could just sit and talk. There's champagne and we can toast and - "

She interrupts me with her mouth, practically launching herself at me. I stumble backwards and my legs give out, forcing me into the water. I drop onto the bench, pulling her with me and our teeth knock together. I can't even acknowledge the pain because her tongue is in my mouth, sliding over mine in the most distracting way. She straddles my legs, pressing close, and I'm suddenly very aware there are only two flimsy pieces of fabric between us down there. Her fingers are in my hair, and now she's kissing my throat. Where are my hands? What am I doing with my hands?

I let out an unintelligible moan when Rachel sucks my earlobe into her mouth, and my hands move to her hips. Her skin is soft and smooth and so warm. My fingers dig into her flesh as her mouth returns to mine. She's kissing me as if we have all the time in the world and, right now, I believe we do. There is nobody in this world I would rather be with, and there's no place on earth I'd rather be. I want to tell her. I want to tell her so many things, but my mouth is currently occupied.

Rachel pulls away eventually and studies my face. There is so much affection in her gaze that I have to look away. She lets out a small sigh as she leans to the right and lifts a chute of champagne. She downs it in one go, surprising us both, and returns her attention to me. "Now," she says. "Let's get to work." Before I can even ask her what she's talking about, her mouth is on mine again, and her hands go exploring, touching my upper body in such intimate ways. It's when she starts rocking her hips against mine that I start to lose all sense of time and day.

Her fingers dance across my ribcage, tracing the individual ribs as her hands rise higher, skirting towards their ultimate destination. I gasp when she cups my breasts, and I feel a rush of heat settle between my legs. Oh. Oh. Her thumbs flick over my strained nipples, and I can't breathe. She presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against my neck.

"Rachel," I pant.

She growls, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard. "We have to take this off." She's very in control right now, and I'm at her mercy. It doesn't take her long to have me squirming, her hands roaming to all the right places. All too quickly, she wants to touch my skin, and it's the biggest struggle to get my t-shirt off. And then hers goes, and we fling them onto the floor without a care in the world.

Rachel is on me again, hands claiming me as she rocks her hips against mine, displacing water and water-logging the strawberries. The fact that she doesn't care turns me on just that bit more, and I kiss her harder, my fingers digging into the flesh of her back. She seems to have forgotten about the tattoo, and I'm not complaining. She would have to remove more clothing to see it, and I'm already down to my purple and strapless bikini top and bottoms.

It's when she starts to shift my top downwards that I tilt my head back, trying to catch my breath. I'm failing miserably because she's sucking on my pulse point and good God, why is she so good at that? It's an assault to the senses, and I'm panting and moaning and saying her name... but I still hear it. A sound. A foreign one.

"Did you hear that?" I suddenly ask, my heart rate peaking.

She hums, lips remaining against my neck.

"Rachel," I say, pulling back. "Did you hear that?"

"Quinn," she whines.

"Just wait," I murmur, using my hands to push her away. "Tell me, can you hear that?"

She's breathing heavily as she pulls away completely, looking thoroughly put out. She's flushed and red and swollen in all the delicious ways. I want nothing more than to continue kissing her, but I hear that sound again. Rachel must hear it too because her head whips around and we look towards the open sliding door. It sounds like... giggling.

We panic at the same time. Rachel moves completely off me so quickly, I'm worried she'll get whiplash, and she practically leaps out of the hot tub.

"Oh, fuck," I say, scrambling for my t-shirt as I lean over the side of the tub. "Fuck fuck fuck." It's still wet, and I don't know if I'll be able to put it on, but I try anyway. I feel vulnerable and exposed and so damn needy.

"Get out of the water," Rachel hisses at me. "We have to hide."

I abandon my attempt to put on my t-shirt and just hold it over my chest, protecting my modesty. God, this is so embarrassing. Rachel is doing the same thing, grabbing for her shoes and the towel and scrambling inside to... hide, I guess. I don't have the heart to tell her we're probably better off staying outside. I hesitate too long because Rachel comes back out, grabs my hand and tugs me forward and into the house. I stumble, the t-shirt almost slipping.

We rush through the sliding doors, take a few steps, only for my eyes to catch sight of my mother in the entrance hall... giggling. She's got her face buried in a man's neck as his hands roam over her dress-clad body. They're so lost in each other that they don't notice me, but I notice them. I see them.

And I freeze.

Rachel tugs on my hand, trying to get me to keep moving. I know we should be hiding. I know I shouldn't be standing where I am, in the dimly lit hallway with a wet t-shirt over my practically naked body, with my girlfriend's hand in mine; but I can't help it. Honestly, I can't.

I just stare. Because -

"Quinn?" Rachel pleads, pulling on my hand again.

I don't move. There's more giggling and the sound of 'Ssh,' as if my mother actually cares that I live here.

"Quinn, please," Rachel says.

It's when the newly-arrived couple starts for the stairs that I realise I'm holding my breath. I just watch as they disappear into the dark upstairs, their mouths meeting from time to time as they try and fail to keep their hands off each other. It makes me feel sick. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I feel all the dread and the panic and hatred and please tell me this isn't happening.

When Rachel sees them move out of sight as well, she huffs in annoyance and drops my hand. "What the hell, Fabray?" she asks, running a hand over her damp hair as her breathing slowly steadies.

I blink, turning my head to look at her. "Rachel," I force out.

She looks at me, confused at my facial expression or the tone of my voice. Both. "What?"

"That man," I murmur.

"That man what?"

"That man - he - he was my father."