Your phone rings, waking you from your sleep. You roll over, almost falling completely off of the couch and grab it, "Yo."
"Did you really just answer the phone with 'Yo'?" Rachel asks.
You smile at yourself. You totally just did. "I did."
"Well come open the door. It's locked."
"Don't you have a key?" you ask, rolling over into the back of the couch.
She sighs, "Yeah but it's at the bottom of my purse and I don't feel like digging it out."
"You called me and woke me up because you didn't feel like digging your key out of the bottom of your purse?" you ask, but you're already getting up off of the couch.
"Qui-iiiinn," she whines.
You pad to the door and flip open the locks. On the other side of the door is an exhausted looking little diva who gives you a sleepy smile before wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your shoulder. She deflates against you and you hold her against you. You rub her back and offer, "Do you want to take a bath or do you just want to go to bed?"
She doesn't let go of you and steps forward, forcing you to take a step back. She closes the door and locks it behind her. "I'm going to just…go to bed." She takes a long deep breath and slowly moves away from you.
"Okay," you smile at her, "I'll see you in the morning."
"You, me and coffee, first thing tomorrow," she kisses your cheek and gives you a hug before pattering off.
At lunch the next day, you search through the real estate listings in and around the city. You have very specific requirements and you're not going to settle. This is for your first date and you've been staring at the listings since you got to work and now you're at lunch with Brittany and Santana with your laptop open on the table.
"So you're going to have the date in an empty apartment that you're trying to sell?" Santana asks, pushing up the long sleeves that are sticking out from under the scrubs. She picks up a French fry and chomps off the end.
You nod, not taking your eyes off of the screen.
"Isn't that sort of unethical?" she asks, offering Brittany some French fries.
You shrug. You don't care. If you get caught, what are they gonna do? Fire you? Big damn deal. You don't actually really like being a real estate agent anyway. It's not like anyone is going to walk in on your date. "That's it!" you exclaim when you finally see the pictures that match what's going on in your mind. It's so perfect.
Both of your friends lean around the table to see what you're looking at. Brittany rests her chin on your shoulder, "It's pretty."
You nod. It's gorgeous and perfect. Everything you want. You click back to the list that you've started to make. Santana quirks her head, "That's your To-Do list for the date? You do realize what the date is not next month right?"
Again you nod. All these things you know. You know it's a lot, but you've had a long time to plan and daydream about this. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable.
Santana sits back in her seat and Brittany leans into her. Your resident med student adds, "You do that you're setting the date bar really high right off the bat."
You nibble on a tortilla chip from your plate and barely glance up at her from the computer, "It has to be. What if it's the only one?"
"What do you mean?" Brittany asks, thoughtfully looking you over.
You glance at Santana to see if she's going to add anything, but when she gives you the same questioning look you sigh. "This is a big deal. She has a lot to lose if she decides to stick with…this. I want her to…" your voice gets quiet, "to be sure that I'm worth it. I have to show her that I'm willing to put a lot of effort into this to make it work."
After a moment, Brittany and Santana look at each other. Brittany's shoulders rise and fall with a breath and Santana bites the inside of her cheek. Then they look back at you. You feel like you're about to get lectured so you stop them before they can start, "No, you don't get to tell me that I'm worth it and that I shouldn't have to prove it. I've wanted to be with her since I can remember and this is my shot. My one shot. I'm not going to screw it up."
Santana exhales and checks her phone. She turns to Brittany, "I gotta go to class. Talk to her okay?"
Brittany nods and kisses Santana. Santana stands, slings her purse over her shoulder and steps to your side of the table. She drops a kiss on the top of your head and mutters something you don't quite catch.
You look expectantly at Brittany who is picking at her food. When she looks up at you, she finally speaks, "I get it okay? And I'm not going to tell you that it's a bad idea because it's romantic and stuff. I just don't think this is your one shot. I mean me and San have had like a million shots and we've both screwed them up, but we're together."
You know she's right. Rachel is definitely the forgiving type and you're sure you could light a bunch of candles around your apartment and make her dinner and she'd be happy, but you've waited so long and you want her to fall as desperately in love with you as you are with her. "Thanks B."
She smiles, "No problem." She takes a bite of some of the leftover food on Santana's plate, "Can I help? You have a long list."
"Thank you so much," you feel a little relieved that you're going to have some help. The more you stare at the list, the more overwhelmed you become. "I'm mostly worried about the dress. I don't know where I'm going to find the one."
"A dress for you?" Brittany asks.
"No for her," you explain, picking the check up off of the table.
Brittany plucks it out of your hand and adds, "Well I'll ask the wardrobe people when I get back to work. They get the coolest stuff. Just send a picture of what you want it to look like to my phone and I'll ask them."
"Thanks B," you reach for the check again, but she yanks it out of your grasp with a smile.
After she pays, you decide that you can continue working from home so you split a cab with her, dropping her off at work before heading back to your apartment.
You've made yourself comfortable on the couch in sweatpants and cami before falling onto the couch with your laptop on your stomach. After calling to make an appointment to see the apartment you're going to use for your date, you start looking on the internet for all the furniture you're going to need. It's the perfect day to work from home as rain starts to gently tap at your windows.
When the front door opens you minimize all windows and open up a new browser.
"Stupid reporters," you hear her mutter followed by a dull thud. You figure she just kicked off her shoes against the wall, "Paparazzi is more like it. I'm never moving to LA."
She walks the rest of the way into the apartment and before you even know what's going on, you feel a large weight on your stomach, knock the wind out of you. Your hands move to her purse that has so unceremoniously landed on your stomach.
"Oh my god Quinn I'm so sorry," she yanks her purse off of you, but she nearly yanks your finger, that's stuck in the side pocket, off of your hand.
"Ow shit!" you manage to disengage your finger from her purse. When you examine it it's just red around the part that got hooked, but it feels like she grabbed your finger and tied it to the back of a taxi.
"Oh my god," Rachel's hands were over her mouth with a completely horrified expression, "I'm so, so, so sorry. What can I do? I can take you to the doctor. Let's go."
"No," you say, taking a deep breath, "I'll just…" you stand up, "Do you have a first aid kit?"
"Of course," she nods affirmatively and runs off.
You go into the kitchen to get some ice out of the freezer and into a little baggie. When she returns, she has a very, very large first aid kit. "Do you keep paramedics in there?"
She giggles and sets it on the kitchen table. She opens it and asks, "What do you need?"
"Just the tape," you offer.
It takes you a few seconds to tape your injured finger to the one next to it. Then you cover it with the ice.
"You're good at that," Rachel offers, closing up her suitcase of a first aid kit.
"At Cheerios orientation, we learned to take care of our own injuries," you offer with a shrug.
She steps up to you and gently takes the ice bag off of your finger. You both examine it and find that it's starting to swell. You look at her and find that her eyes are entirely apologetic. "I'm so sorry."
You smile and take the ice back from her. You place it on your finger and take her hand with your non-injured one, "C'mon. Let's sit down and you can tell my about your crappy day that made you so mad you came home and assaulted me."
She stops walking and you turn to look at her, "Quinn I would never…no matter how crappy my day is-"
You cut her off with a chuckle, "I was just joking."
"I know," she sighs, "I just…I had a horrible day and," she lets out a frustrated huff, "I'm so glad you're here. Can we just lay down on the couch and I'll continue apologizing? Please?"
You nod and follow her to the couch, falling down first. You know that she's resilient and there's almost no chance that you'll hurt her just laying on her, but you always feel like if you're on top of her you'll break her or something.
She every so carefully lays down on top of you, her head on your chest. One of her hands gently cups your cheek. She whispers, "I'm so sorry."
"I forgive you," you state, "Now don't bring it up again."
You can feel her smile against your neck and you smile back. You love laying on the couch with her on top of you being able to not feel weird touching the skin peeking out of her shirt. You ran your nails up the small of her back dragging her shirt up as you went. You only exposed about an inch or so of skin but you feel like a thirteen year old boy who just got to third base.
"Mmm Quinn," she takes a deep breath and squeezes her arms around you tighter, "A little higher."
You realize she wants you to scratch her back and you try to push away all dirty thoughts in your mind. You push her shirt up and keep scratching. She's not giving you much direction so you decide to cover as much of her back as possible. A crash of lightning turns your attention to the window where the rain has become relentless in it's beating of the city.
She wriggles a little bit and tilts her head up, her lips brushing against your neck. Her warm breath on you causes your eyes to squeeze shut. This is more than a compromising position for you and you know that this is probably the most turned on you've been in your life. So you decide to divert the attention away from those thoughts, "What happened with the reporters?"
She tilts her head up to look at you with her big brown eyes that you've loved since before you can remember, "They're just…it's just the stupid questions and the repetitiveness. I'm kinda pissed that they haven't asked about you yet."
You giggle, "Really?"
"They keep asking me about Lima and high school. One of them even asked me about Santana, but no one asked me about the beautiful woman I was dancing with," she sighs and shakes her head, "I don't understand it at all."
You don't really understand it either. Of course Santana was the one that was yelling obscenities and would have probably run up and down the street naked if Brittany hadn't kept her inside. Of course you're okay with it. You're apprehensive about the day that the paparazzi follow you and Rachel around which you know will happen if she does start to do movies.
"Are you sure your finger is okay?" she asks, propping her head up to look at you in the face, "I don't believe that Sue Sylvester is the best judge of injuries. I believe that she was the one that tried to make one of the Cheerios walk off a broken ankle."
You smile at her caring and you run your fingers through her hair. "I'm fine. I promise. It's probably just a sprain. I'll have Santana look at it if it's still bad tomorrow okay?"
"Okay," she sighs and traces your cheekbone with her fingers. A smile cracks her thoughtful expression, "I could kiss it if it would make it better."
You smile at her. After you just take in the sight of her smiling, you shake your head, "Not necessary, but you know, I think something else hurts."
"Oh yeah?" she giggles.
You nod and point to your cheek, "It really hurts right here."
She dips down and presses her lips to your cheek. When she pulls away, "Better?"
"Much," you grin, lazily.
"Well, it looks kinda like it hurts right here too," she lays a finger across your lips. She removes her fingers and lowers her head so that your lips are a breath apart. She only pauses for a moment before pressing your lips together. The way her lips move against yours makes you feel like you're meant to kiss her. Your lips just fit. There's no awkwardness in the kiss. There are no missed cues or weird angles. It's just right.
You cringe when you whimper at the loss of her lips on yours. You don't remember ever being that needy. There's a lazy smile on her lips as she lays her head back down and kisses the underside of your jaw chastely. "I can't wait for our date."
"Me either," you tell her.
As you both just lay there you think that Rachel's dad was right. This is a lot different than a conventional relationship. The fact that you are best friends and that you live together seem to make the relationship develop at a much more rapid pace. You don't share the same bed, but instead of just talking together during dates, you talk pretty much every waking second that you're both at the apartment. Plus, the talking that you would have done during dates, which would be semi-shallow for a while just feeling each other out, is already done. You know a lot about her. You know what she likes and what she hates. You know all about her family and about her past. Granted you know more about her than she does about you because of the issues Rachel so gently brought to your attention in Lima, but she still knows a great deal more than she would if you were just acquaintances or co-workers or something about to go on their first date.
That makes you nervous about this relationship. It's going to be complicated and it could get messy. The lines are so blurred around you that you pretty much have to guess at where the boundaries lie. She's been great about this so far. Her hugs and cuddles have been the same and she'll throw in sweet kisses to your cheek or your neck occasionally, but other than that not much has changed. Well something has changed. You have noticed that she very, very tactfully has been avoiding the word love. When she talks about what she feels for you, they're always feelings or developing feelings or something equally noncommittal.
Right now you can feel her eyes on you and you wonder what she's thinking. You can't help, but wonder is she's trying to find a way out without having to break your heart. You know she'd never want to break your heart, but you know that if this relationship that hasn't even started yet ever dissolves you'll be the one that's the most broken.
You let out a heavy sigh and try to push these thoughts out of your head. She agreed to go out on a date with you and that's good enough for right now.
She moves a bit and puts one hand on the back of the couch and the other on the cushion next to your hips. She looks at you for a minute before stating, "You're quiet."
You let out a smile as your eyes trail down her arms to her perfect fingers. You can't think of anything about her right now that isn't beautiful. You want to kiss every inch of her body, telling her over and over that she's the most beautiful person on the planet, but you can't. Not yet anyway. You have to get past the first date. You're not going to go past kissing with her until there is no doubt in your mind that she's really in this. It seems like she is and so far she's acted like it, but you're still you and you're still cautious when it comes to your heart.
"Quinn?" she asks, sitting up with her knees between the back of the couch and you. She rests a hand on your stomach. You can see in her eyes that she's worried. "What's wrong?"
You put your hand on top of hers, "Nothing. I was just thinking."
"What are you thinking about?" she asks tilting her head to the side.
The complexity that might cause this relationship to fail? How you're not really sure that she really wants to be in this relationship? How you want to worship her body until the end of time? Yeah right. Like you're going to tell her any of those things. "Real estate."
She quirks an eyebrow and rests her elbow on the back of the couch before resting her head against her hand, "So when are you going to tell me what real estate is code for?"
You furrow your eyebrows, "What?"
"Quinn," she sighs and starts moving her hand on your stomach in slow circles, "I know you're really not thinking about real estate. I mean you'd have to be some kind of extreme workaholic to think about real estate that much and I know that you don't actually enjoy your job so I know you're lying to me."
You physically wince when she says 'lying'. You don't want to lie to her. You really don't. But who in their right mind speaks their mind all the time? Especially when asked…well except for her. You can't meet her eyes after her accusation even though there was nothing vicious about it. "I'm sorry. I was just…over thinking."
"You can tell me," she gives you a tentative smile like she doesn't know if she should or not.
You bite your lip and decide to tell the truth. At least part of the truth, "That your dad is right. He told me that since this is not the most conventional start to a romantic relationship that it's going to be…complicated."
She looks at you and nods, "I know. That doesn't mean it won't work."
"I know," your eyes shoot to her. You think that you made her think that you have no faith in this. That being complicated meant you weren't going to try your damnedest. "I didn't mean that it wouldn't work. I was just thinking about how it's going to be different."
"This difference could be a good," she offers with a smile. "I mean, I don't have to explain to you what a vegan is."
You laugh. You think you pretty much have the vegan thing down, "And I don't have to tell you that I was married before and watch you look for a quick way to end the date."
She laughs with you, "And I don't have to bring up my favorite movies and watch your eyes glaze over. Or explain that my dads are really harmless once you get to know them."
"You can still keep explaining to me that they're harmless," you add with a goofy smile.
She lets out a loud laugh and just watching her makes you forget your doubts for a moment. "You know they love you."
You smile back at her. "I love them too."
After a moment, the laughter dies down and you're just looking at each other. You're about to ask her if she's hungry when she says, "I know that there are things that you don't want to talk about and it'll take some time for you to completely open up to me. If I ask you something you don't want to talk about you can say real estate and I'll leave it alone, okay?"
You don't say anything until you remember that she's rubbing your stomach. It just seems like the most natural thing in the world. You nod, "Okay. Thank you. I swear I'm working on it."
"I believe you." She leans forward and kisses your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut at the contact. When she pulls back you open your eyes to find a smiling actress. "Since it's raining outside, do how about we order in and watch TV or something?"
You smile and nod. As she's getting up, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. She hands it to you and adds, "I'm going to go get some pajamas on. It's getting cold in here."
You check your phone and open the text from Santana. I will give you fifty bucks to come get this fucking cat for the night. I NEEDZ my Brit-time. Please! You sigh and look out the window. It's still pouring and if your phone is any good at predicting the weather with it's fun little app, the rain's not going to start anytime soon. Of course if you do this for her, you can get her to help you with your date and judging by the lack of checks next to the things on your to-do list, you may need more help than you anticipated.
When Rachel walks back in wearing sweatpants that are way too big and a long sleeved shirt, you're standing and looking through the coat closet for something that water will run off of. "Where are you going?" You can tell that she's disappointed.
You smile that she's looking forward to hanging out with you, "I'm going to go get Binx. Santana's going to give me fifty bucks to watch her for the night."
She frowns, "Fifty bucks? I thought that apartment you sold made it so you don't have to worry for a while."
"It did," you finally pick out a raincoat. It's Rachel's and is black with gold stars. You shake your head with an amused smirk and shrug it on. "I'm going because she's going to owe me a favor after this and I learned in high school that there is very little Santana cannot get other people to do."
"What are you going to make her do?" Rachel puts one of her hands on her hips.
You grin, "You never know." You open the front door, "If you'll order dinner, I'll be back before it gets here."
She nods, "Okay. But if you're not back in half an hour I'm watching TV and cuddling with myself." She lets out a cheeky grin and you laugh. As long as you are alive, she will never have to cuddle with herself again.
There are few cabs in the street and even fewer people, but it's not long before you're shaking out your umbrella in front of Brittany and Santana's apartment building.
"Thank god you're here!" Santana squeezes the air out of you with a rushed hug. She disappears for a second before a pet carrier is shoved into your arms and three bills fly at you. Just like that, the door is slammed in your face.
You stand there for a moment and just try to catch up with what just happened. Finally a loud thud in the apartment gets you moving again. You shove the money into your pocket and walk off with the carrier under your arm. You look at the little kitten and say, "You're going to come home with me for a while. You're mommies need some playtime."
On the way back to your apartment, you realize that Santana didn't give you anything else besides the kitten. You're currently sitting on the kitchen floor with the kitten playing with your hand, looking up at Rachel. "I have no instructions. No food. No cat littler or anything."
"Use newspaper," she shrugs.
"Isn't that for puppies?"
"Isn't that just like a puppy, but…slower?"
You look questioningly up at her, "Have you ever had a pet?"
"I had a goldfish named Oscar. I got so wrapped up in my Myspace videos that I occasionally forgot to fee him…and…" She trails off, kicking at the floor with her bare foot.
You chuckle, "That explains everything."
"Also I had an impossibly high standard for pets…"
You nod, "Yeah I heard the kitten story," you get off of the floor to get the kitten some water and hope that it has recently eaten. Then you sit back on the floor with your legs crossed. It slowly curls up into your lap.
You take your phone out of your pocket and shoot Santana a text asking her what kind of food Binx eats. You get a quick reply with a blurry, crooked picture of kitten food on the counter at the edge of their kitchen and in the upper corner you can make out the back of Brittany in the doorway of their bedroom in nothing, but underwear.
When you look up, Rachel's sitting in one of the chairs, sideways so she can watch you. You lean back on the cabinets and look at her with a weak smile. "I have to go to the store in a little bit so Binxy can eat."
She smiles, "Do you need me to go to the store for you? She looks awfully comfortable."
You look down at the now sleeping kitten, "Are you sure? It's still raining."
"Yeah," she adds, "I was going to get some wine anyway."
"You're drinking before a show?" you ask her.
She grins as she stands, "There's no show scheduled for tonight."
Your phone buzzes again and you open a text. When you read it you sigh, "I forgot that I promised Ethan that he could come over tonight."
She narrows her eyes, "For what?"
"Game one of the Stanley Cup," you offer.
"Who's Stanley?" she asks.
You can't stop a laugh that wakes up the kitten. Binx stretches before hopping off of your. "It's like the Tony's of hockey."
She makes a face, "Hockey?"
"I promise as soon as it's over it'll be just you me and the floorboards," you grin.
She smiles at you, "Okay. Maybe you two can teach me something about hockey. Ooh, I'll get some beer too. It'll be fun."
"Do you need me to come with you?" you ask, getting a little amused at Rachel's newfound excitement.
"No you stay here," she pats your head, "and make sure the cat doesn't pee in my room." She bends over and talks to the kitten. "Did you hear that? No peeing in my room." She kisses your forehead and goes into her room to change again.
You look down at the kitten and ask her, "This is a dream isn't it? It has to be a dream. Real people aren't that perfect." When you reach for the kitten's water bowl to pull it closer you see that Rachel's still standing in the doorway. You blush and bow your head, "I'm not your crazy roommate that talks to cats."
She just giggles and pushes off of the doorframe. She doesn't say anything, but her smile says it all. You've inadvertently flattered her.
Her voice is soft when she asks, "Do you need anything else?"
"A life remote to rewind and not make myself look insane," you offer with a crooked smile, hoping to get her to laugh.
She does takes a step back, "I'll make sure to look for one of those."
After she leaves, you text Ethan back and tell him that Rachel will be joining you. You laugh. This will be interesting.
The food arrives before Rachel does. You set it out on the table and when Rachel returns with the food (two kinds because the picture was blurry) and the beer, she sits down with you.
"You realized on the way to the store that I may have invited myself to some friend time with you and Ethan," you says, moving her food around on her plate. "And I'm sorry. I can go out while you two watch the game."
You tilt your head to the side, "Rach, if you weren't allowed to invite yourself then I would have said something. You're more than welcome to stay. I mean it's your apartment after all. Plus, Ethan and I have been texting about how fun it will be to watch you get into it."
She sighs with small smile, "Thanks. You can let me know when I'm doing things like that. I'm trying to maintain some boundaries. I know that sometimes…well a lot of times I overstep. So…," She takes a deep breath, "I would like to reaffirm my previous request for complete honesty when it comes to making you uncomfortable Quinn. You know I'm a very physically affectionate person and I've been trying to stave of my affection toward you. I watched you with your family and as a group you're not very affectionate. Not like me and my dads. I really don't want to scare you off. Sometimes I don't think about-"
You have to cut her off, "Rachel." You pause and wait for her full attention, "Physical affection from you has never and god-willing, will never make me uncomfortable. I try not to initiate much with you because I don't want to scare you off. We haven't even had our first date yet."
"If it was up to me we would have already been out on at least three," she teases you. After you chuckle, she adds, "Don't be afraid of me Quinn."
"I'm not anymore," You smile at her. You feel like you just confessed something huge so you dip your head down to regroup before adding, "It'll be worth the wait. I promise."
"I believe it," you smiles back.
You spend a few hours doing some basic household things. Rachel helps you with the laundry and even sweeps up the kitchen while singing to herself. It amazes you how natural this all feels with her.
When Ethan arrives you all sit on the couch. Rachel bought some extra food at the store in preparation for the game. Just like predicted Rachel gets really into the game once she knows all the rules. She even drags you down the bar after the game to celebrate her team's win. When you ask her who her team was, she identifies them by jersey colors.
You manage to steal Brittany away from work the next day to go hunting for the dress. A couple of the wardrobe people she works with gave her a list of places to look. As you look around the racks of a second hand place that you stepped into on a whim, Brittany absently looks at a wall of books. The store is pretty small and pretty empty so you take your time, looking through the racks.
"Have you ever kissed a girl besides Rachel?"
The question surprises you. Not really because of the content, but because she's been quiet for so long, "One I think, but it was in high school and I was drunk," you pause, "and I'm pretty sure it was you."
You look at her over the rack as a smile breaks out on her face, "Oh yeah." She stops and pulls out a book, looking it over before replacing it. "Have you ever done anything else?…with a girl?"
You stand up straight and it hits you like a baseball bat. "I don't know how to have sex with…a woman," you offer. You've never really done it or like researched it. Do people research sex? Puck used to tell you that when he was watching porn, he was doing research. That's a load of shit and you know it, but right now it doesn't seem like such a stupid idea.
Brittany shrugs, "Santana is really awesome at it. You could watch her."
You don't say anything and give a moment to allow Brittany's brain to catch up to her mouth. She quirks her head and adds, "Never mind. That'd be weird." She grabs a book and grins, tucking it under her arm as she keeps walking.
You nod, "Yeah." This just gives you something else to worry about. She shake your head at yourself. First date first. Sex later. Hopefully.
"It's super fun though," she says, walking around the racks of clothes, "It's like…I don't know, it's just awesome. You just sort of go with it."
"What if I'm not good at it?" you ask.
She shoots you a cheeky grin, "There's more than one way to do it. If you're not good at one, you might be good at the others."
"Others?" you ask, starting to panic.
After Brittany calms you down, you find something else that you need. Maybe you could give it to Rachel early as a hint. So you leave the shop with a paper fan and Brittany leaves with a book and a bunch of hats. You will never understand Brittany's obsession with hats.