August - Summer Before Senior Year of High School
I love you. Let's get lost together. We are lost. But we're together.
When Rachel turned eight, her fathers set her first video camera down in front of her. They set a microphone stand down next. And then they placed a pink, bedazzled mic in her hand.
They sculpted her future as much as it bred itself in her bones. Her young, fascinated eyes shined brightly and she stood from the couch, walked to the stand, clicked on the mic and smiled.
Even at eight, she had a Hollywood smile.
Leroy's hands clasped together, fingers pressed happily to his lips.
Hiram laid a hand over his heart and waited.
They both cried.
And then Rachel opened her mouth and her future fell out. She belonged on stage. She belonged in front of an audience. She belonged in a place where people would applaud. She couldn't breathe without the applause.
She knew this at age eight when her first real microphone was placed into her tiny fingers. She knew it even more at nine when she placed first in the annual dance competition- for thirteen year olds. She knew it at ten when the elementary school pushed her into the high school talent show to compete instead of keeping her in the fifth grade show.
She placed second.
And first place was the principle's handicap son.
She still felt robbed, regardless of his capabilities. Sucker.
At eleven, she walked into her first studio with Leroy on her birthday. He pulled the blindfold off her eyes and watched her light up from her toes to the tips of her hair. Her tiny fingers danced over the audio mixing board. Her tiny feet skipped into the recording booth, reached up to knock on the microphone and giggled when it poof, poof, poofed back at her.
It was happiness, she knew.
At twelve, she started recording videos on Youtube. Though her peers ridiculed her, she saw the hits. She saw them watching. She knew they were in awe. It fueled her fire even more.
When she hit thirteen, she grew breasts. This was a bit of a side-tracking moment in her life. What? They were breasts. She still sang and stuff, but they were breasts!
Fourteen came and high school hit. She joined glee. She starred in every play. She wrote a musical. She printed out info-packets for every top music school in the nation. For she was in high school; it was time to prepare. Freshman year went by like music prep boot camp. She sang daily, she planned between singing, and she studied between planning. She needed the grades for acceptance. She needed the extra curricular activities for acceptance.
And the first time she really, one hundred percent needed, not craved, the acceptance was in that scenario, the college application scenario. Appreciated and viewed but not accepted was not good enough.
She would be good enough.
And that pushed her through year fourteen.
And then when she was fifteen, Quinn kissed her.
What? It counted as important. It was everything. It gave her a reason to sing. It gave her something to write about. It gave her a point in life, a point other than music. At sixteen, she researched that point. She opened her heart. She gave herself life.
In the early months of spring, the day she applied to Juilliard, filling out their application and recording her video, Quinn lay on the empty bed beside her. She stood with her nine-year-old birthday microphone stand, bedazzled pink mic and she sang.
She sang her heart out with eyes on her heart: Quinn.
They stayed fixed for strength, for emotion, for power, and for love.
Quinn steadied her. Quinn gave her purpose.
And now, at seventeen, Rachel sat on the island in her kitchen, the blonde's thigh to her right, with a white envelope in her hand.
The postmark read Juilliard Registrar Office.
New York, New York.
New York, New York.
Her life built to this moment and all she could hear was Frank Sinatra singing chocolate over her ears. She belonged there. She belonged in the magical concrete land, scrounging for parts, fighting for roles, singing her mind out in need to be the best of anyone anywhere ever.
"What if they don't want me?" she murmured and turned the envelope over in her hands. She ran a finger over the sealed crease and sighed.
"They want you."
"But how do you know? You don't know."
"I know."
"Bee."
"Rach, I know this is hard to imagine, so I'm going to explain it to you, okay?" Quinn stated with a smile and shimmied closer. She looped her arm around the tiny brunette's waist and held tight.
"Listening."
"You've never sat in the audience and looked at you on stage."
"That's physically imposs-"
"You've never sat in the audience and looked at you on stage. You're magnificent. You literally, you and your voice, have the power to rip breaths from onlookers' throats. You rob people of air with your talent. You rob people of this with your emotion, with your voice, with every twitch of nuance in your facial expressions, Rachel. You are the epitome of remarkable the second you step up to a microphone. This is why I know they want you. I would want you if I sat up there in New York in their office. I'd want you immediately just so no one else could have you, just so we wouldn't have to compete against you, because you are perfect. You are one in a million, Rachel, just like Barbra. They want you. Trust me."
Rachel sighed with a trembling smile and swiped a stray tear.
"I love you."
"I know you do. Now open the envelope," she said and pushed it back into view.
Year seventeen; it would be the kicker.
She ripped open the envelope, unfolded the white letter and read.
She read and read and read, Quinn's hand on her thigh and waiting.
It was the year Quinn went from giving her hope, giving her courage, and giving her a reason to live to actually solidifying her future. She gave her a reason to be great. She gave her a reason to sing. She provided the support.
And she'd lain on her bed, smiling broadly and listening to Rachel croon out "My Man" with smirks, winks, and sultry glances as the camera recorded her.
She might as well have been singing my woman, my girl, my lovely lady.
She might as well have, because Quinn was everything.
"I'm in."
"Rach."
"I'm in! I'm in! I'm in! I'm in!" she screamed through tears and tackled Quinn to the marble counter. She whipped the letter free into the air, turned her focus to the blonde and kissed her, even though a million kisses would never be enough. She tried. She tried to show her thanks. She crawled atop her, settled her body down and made love to her mouth.
She massaged her tongue, licked the roof of her mouth, nipped at those lovely teeth and caressed her lips. Nothing would ever be enough.
"Thank you," she purred.
"Why," she gasped, "on earth are you thanking me?"
"You drive me. You give me purpose. You're my heart."
"Mm, I love you," Quinn murmured and pulled their lips back together. Her hands slid up to wrap around the brunette's sides and pull her closer. Rachel melted on top of her, legs twining and chests heaving.
The celebratory kisses turned needy, yearning for more and more.
Quinn hiked her knee up, swung left and rolled them over. Happiness erupted from Rachel in squeals and giggles. Quinn chuckled and grinned as if she'd never grinned before. Looking down at those glistening brown eyes, swollen smiling lips, and rosy red cheeks, she'd never felt more in love or proud.
"I'm so proud to be yours."
"Just wait 'til I'm famous, baby," Rachel smirked. Quinn leaned down and pecked her perfect lips.
"And what will I be?"
"A kept woman."
"What if I don't wanna be kept?" Quinn giggled and rolled her hips into Rachel. The girl's eyes fluttered shut as teeth sank into her lips, her smile quirking up further and further as Quinn continued her movements.
"What do you want?" Rachel murmured.
"An equal. A lover. A wife."
"I'd marry you today if Daddy wouldn't kill you."
"Promise you'll marry me someday."
"We talk a lot about marriage; scared I'm gonna run off?" Rachel smiled and rocked her hips up. "Maybe with Brad Pitt?"
"Says the girl who's never even seen a penis," Quinn smiled.
"I don't need to see his penis to know I would sleep with him."
"Rachel!"
"It's Brad Pitt, Bee. Let's be serious. We could do him together," she giggled. "Maybe call Angelina in later?"
"Mm, now I'm onboard. I am so onboard," Quinn purred and placed another kiss to the giddy lips below her. "But you never answered me."
"Your lips made me forget the question."
"Hazardous side effect of sexy, sorry."
Rachel giggled, smacked her ass playfully and wrestled for domination of Quinn's legs. They twitched right, left, around and then knocked the salt and pepper shakers off the island to send them shattering to the floor.
They froze.
"What's our deal with glass?" Rachel whispered.
"I know, right? H gonna be pissed?"
"Which ones were they?" she asked and Quinn leaned right to look over the island's edge. White and black shattered glass laid spread throughout salt and pepper all over the floor. She sighed and rolled back onto Rachel.
"The yin and yang, creepy fluid people ones."
"Crap."
"What?"
"Those are the special ones."
"How are they special? They're… hideous."
"They're supposed to represent Dad and Daddy."
"Clever."
"We should-"
"Get off my kitchen counter?" Leroy barked from the doorway. Quinn shot to the right, across the rest of the island, off the edge, and fell smack onto the floor with a thud, face down and palms out.
Ow.
"Daddy! Guess what?" Rachel wailed and sat up before sliding to edge and smiling broadly.
"You're grounded? For attempting to defile our kitchen!"
"No, Daddy, but-"
"Okay, another guess: You're not to see Quinn anymore?"
"What? Daddy!"
"A third? Am I still guessing or am I just yelling now? Rachel, what the hell! We went out for groceries and come back to Quinn spreading you on our island top! This is not acceptable. This is not even unacceptable; it's despicable, inconsiderate, and disrespectful!"
"What in heaven's name is all the yelling about?" Hiram stuttered while wandering into the kitchen.
"I caught that girl on top of Rachel on the island."
"That girl! Daddy! Stop it!"
Hiram turned to Rachel, curious eyes spanning the empty room.
"All I see is our daughter sitting gingerly on the countertop, Lee. Are you seeing things again? First it's dogs in the street, spiders on the wall, and now our daughter's girlfriend on the island. I might start worrying," he muttered and piled grocery bags on the counter.
"She's flat on the floor behind the island," Leroy spat. Quinn wanted to sink inside herself as Hiram stopped before slowly wandering around the edge of the island. His feet came to trembling, red hands and then bright hazel eyes slowly peeled up from the floor.
Quinn forced a terrified smile.
And Hiram chuckled.
"Why are you laughing?" Leroy barked.
"Lee, relax. They're fully clothed."
"Yeah, because we got home when we did!"
"Daddy, nothing would've happened. It's unsanitary, first of all, and second of all-"
"I don't need a second of all. Grounded," he barked and craned his head around the island. "Quinn!"
She shot to her feet.
"Yes sir!"
"Go home!"
"Yes sir!" she choked and shot towards the door.
"Stop!" Rachel wailed. "Come back here. Now!"
Quinn froze and back pedaled towards the kitchen, across the dining room and landed with her back to the island beside Rachel's legs.
She kept her eyes on the floor; if she looked up she swore the bugs would be swarming. They'd be swarming and a knife would be ree ree reeing its way at her face.
Oh God.
The floor was safe. It was pretty, blue and like… light blue tiled.
So pretty.
"I told her to go home and you are not to argue with me, Rachel," Leroy demanded, eyes narrowing and brow furrowed.
"Would you stop being a caveman and let me speak!" she squealed.
He gasped, craned his mouth open and oh shit, it was going to happen!
"A cave-"
"Stop!"
"Lee."
"What?"
"Let our daughter have the floor for two seconds!" Hiram demanded, arms across his chest and attention squared on Rachel. "Have at it, baby girl."
"I have news," she huffed.
"Thrilling," Leroy groaned and Quinn shook her head.
He had no idea. He really had no idea.
Leroy watched the blonde shake in disappointment. Something about it stilled his insides. He pulled his eyes back to Rachel and took a calming breath.
"I got a letter from Juilliard today," she stated and Quinn's eyes pulled up. Hiram's hand went to his heart and Leroy's clasped in front, fingers to his lips. Rachel could've been eight years old again for all she knew.
"Tell us," Hiram choked out. "Wait, not yet!"
He looked to Leroy; they took steadying breaths and then looked back to Rachel. This was it. This was their daughter's future.
"Okay, tell us."
Rachel opened her mouth.
"No wait!" Hiram gasped. "God, I can't, I'm sorry, it's just, I-"
"I'm in! I got accepted!" Rachel wailed. "You can breathe, Dad. I'm in."
"She's in," Quinn smiled.
Leroy's eyes spilled over and Hiram's hand joined the other over his heart. Their gazes pulled over Rachel with her big smile, carefree eyes, and outstretched arms.
"I'm in," she whispered and nodded.
"You're in," they muttered. "You're in?"
"I'm in, guys. I'm so in."
"You're in!" they wailed, hugged each other, and then attacked their daughter. Hugs, kisses, screams, and shouts abounded. Quinn had never seen a happier family in her life. She hoped one day it was just like her own, full of happiness and support and love. She wanted that. She needed that.
She needed that with Rachel by her side.
Leroy pulled back from his daughter, looked over his shoulder and met Quinn, the girl who previously spread his daughter out on their island.
He gulped and stretched out a hand.
Quinn grinned, gripped it, and he yanked her into the huddle.
The squeals sounded all over again and Rachel reveled in it; she never wanted to forget what it felt like to be loved, accepted, and wanted all at the same time and in all the best ways. The feeling continued for hours.
It continued after a gigantic celebratory meal, a gigantic celebratory round of karaoke, and a gigantic celebratory circle of speeches full of congratulations to Rachel.
They lay outstretched sideways across her bed, exhausted with all the celebrating and still just as happy. Quinn tickled a toe to Rachel's shoulder and the brunette brushed a foot across Quinn's forearm monotonously. Sometimes life provided moments where all that was expected of you was to be. Just be.
It was one of those moments for the couple. Heads opposite each other, eyes drifting around and ceiling fan whirring above, nothing else mattered than breathing.
"We're growing up," Rachel murmured.
"I'm proud of you."
"You'll be there with me."
"I know I will."
"Columbia will come back with an acceptance any day now."
"Probably not until the fall, but I know they will. I know, love," Quinn whispered. "I'll be there. Nothing will stop me."
"I love you."
"You're all I need."
"I love you."
"Can you picture us there? We'll be like a Woody Allen film."
"I so love you."
"We'll drink coffee, relax in Central Park, stroll down the streets, grab Chinese in the middle of the night, and live it up. We'll live it up like no one ever did. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Watch out now."
"Man, I love you."
"I'll bring you flowers after performances. You'll visit me at Columbia. I want Wallach Hall. I hope I get Wallach Hall. It has a pia-"
"Do you realize how much I love you?"
"I do."
"My dads love you, too."
"H, maybe."
"Daddy, too," Rachel smiled at the ceiling. "He tells me when you're not here. He calls you 'other daughter' to Dad when they think I can't hear. He loves you, Bee. He does."
"I love him, too," she whispered. "But don't ever tell him, okay? I need to keep my edge."
"You never had an edge."
"How's he been feeling?" Quinn muttered.
"Saw another spider. I went to kill it; nothing was there. What do you think that means?" she wondered.
"Dad switched off caffeine. He was feeling a little funny. Maybe that's it? Maybe he should quit the Coke."
"Saying it like that sounds like he's a druggie," Rachel giggled. "But that may be it. You're so smart. You should be a scientist. Or you should be a doctor. Be a surgeon!"
"I want to be a book reader," Quinn grinned, imagining her life surrounded by volumes.
"Like an editor?"
"Like an editor."
"Really?" Rachel smiled.
"Mhm."
"Quinn Fabray, Senior Editor. I could see that."
"Could you?"
"Would you wear pant suits?" Rachel smirked.
"Would you still sleep with me if I did?"
"Yes."
"Then yes," Quinn laughed. "But sexy ones. Classy ones. Like, like hot smart girls wear."
"You're not that smart."
"I'm brilliant."
"Not brilliant enough," Rachel giggled.
"Final counts for Valedictorian have not come back yet, Smuggy Mc Smuggerson. Chill."
"I don't need the final count to know I'm smarter than you," Rachel taunted and dug her toenail into Quinn's arm. The blonde yelped and jerked away before rolling over and crawling up Rachel. Squeals erupted as she tried to squirm away. Quinn flopped onto her, immediately going Dead Dog and trapping her under the dead weight.
"Ugh, Quinn!" Rachel growled and tried to shove the lump of body mass off her as the blonde chuckled.
"Quinn's dead. Sorry. Try back later."
"Quinn!"
"You can leave a message."
"I'm gonna leave a long, bleeping message after the bleep if you don't get off me!"
"Mmm, I'm intrigued. Bleep away, Patti."
"You're so heavy, heifer. Come on Quinn, off!" Rachel growled and finally heaved her off. She gasped for air and stretched her limbs wide. Quinn giggled into the mattress below, face smashed, nose crinkled, and insides eternally happy and light. With a smile, she flung herself up, Rachel gasping at the sudden movement, and shot to her jacket on the door.
"What are you doing? You can't leave!"
"I'm not leaving, clinger. Relax."
"That wasn't very nice," Rachel pouted.
"From the girl who just called me heifer? Okay," Quinn muttered and dug into her pocket. She gripped the box and looked to Rachel. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Don't be Rachel Berry for two seconds, please, and just close your eyes."
"Ouch," she muttered and let her eyes fall shut. Quinn pulled the jewelry box out of her pocket, skipped back to the bed and climbed up in front of Rachel. She shifted as close as she could, knees touching knees, and held the box out, palms up, in front of Rachel.
"Okay, love. Open them."
Rachel's eyes pulled open slowly and wonder flashed over her face.
"What is this?"
"A box…"
"What's it do?"
"Christ, how you got Valedictorian over me will forever elude me. It's a box, Rachel. It does nothing but hold stuff. Open it."
"Oh!" she chirped with a grin and set her dainty fingers down on its edges. With one last look to Quinn, she creaked the lid open and gasped.
A diamond encrusted treble clef necklace shined back at her. A pink diamond accentuated the bottom peak and a larger diamond brightened the top. It hung on a silver chain, she thought. She thought. She could barely see through her tears. All she saw were shining diamonds, treble clef diamonds.
Her eyes pulled up to Quinn's.
"What is this?"
"Congratulations," Quinn smiled and wiped tears off Rachel's cheeks.
"But, but I got the letter today. Did Daddy help you get it when he went out after?" she whimpered and swiped more tears, eyes locking back on the gorgeous piece of jewelry beaming up at her.
"No, love."
"So when?"
"I bought it six weeks ago."
Rachel shot back to her.
"Six weeks ago? But, but…" she stuttered, eyes filling again.
"I knew you'd get it, plain and simple. So it's been sitting in my pocket for six weeks, just waiting for the letter to arrive. It was waiting to be yours, inevitably."
"Quinn."
"Inevitably, Rach. You were made for this," she whispered and placed a kiss on her lips. "And I was made for you."
"God, Quinn Fabray…"
"What?"
But there were no words.
She had no words. She had no words anymore for the girl who sat in front of her. The words didn't exist even though she tried. She'd forever try for the blonde. Because she was perfect, beautiful and astounding: Quinn freaking Fabray.
