Chapter Twenty-Four

The all important talk happens later that night, even though Quinn is borderline exhausted and Rachel is feeling a little vulnerable and exposed.

But, they do need to talk and, okay, it might be the worst time to have this kind of conversation, because of who they are, intrinsically, and yet it's happening.

Rachel waits in Quinn's bedroom, while the Head Student does a nightly check that all the freshmen are, in fact, all in bed by nine-thirty.

Quinn does random checks during the four staggered bedtimes - sophomores at ten, juniors at ten-thirty and seniors at eleven - just to make sure the prefects are actually doing their jobs.

Rachel is trying not to read into the fact that she chose to do it tonight. Quinn does these things, because she's kind of an amazing Head Student, and she realises that the students are going to be particularly excitable tonight and, if Quinn doesn't enforce their bedtime, they're going to be grumpy and irritable in the morning.

Rachel loves her for it, even if she's a little irritated that their very important conversation has been postponed by an hour. In the meantime, though, she goes over what she intends to say when Quinn does get back. She knows they need to talk about their physical relationship, but she intends to talk about other things as well.

About college, and the future.

About New York and, possibly, babies.

About love, and about family.

She's had a lot on her mind these past few days, without Quinn, and they need to get everything out in the open if they're going to be successful going forward in this relationship.

Rachel doesn't think it's going to be an easy conversation, but it's necessary, and she's told herself that they're not going to kiss until they have a few things cleared up.

If that isn't incentive, she doesn't know what is, because Quinn really is the Devil to kiss.

Quinn looks slightly windswept when she finally gets back, and Rachel immediately starts to rethink her decision not to kiss her until they've talked.

"Sorry," Quinn says, smiling sheepishly. "I got caught in a discussion about the Goblet of Fire with the Brady twins when I was saying goodnight."

Rachel feels herself fall even deeper in love, and she can barely keep herself seated.

Quinn slips out of her shoes, setting them down beside her school bag, and then makes her way to where Rachel is sitting cross-legged Indian style on her bed.

"No," Rachel suddenly says, and Quinn freezes mid-step. "I'm sorry, I love you, but you can't sit with me while we do this," she explains. "Sit in your desk chair."

Quinn gives her a curious look, and then does as she's told. She suddenly looks apprehensive, and Rachel just wants to ease her discomfort.

Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel starts to speak. "Firstly, I love you," she says. "I love you, I love you. Before you told me about - about your parents, you asked me for some assurance, and I'm willingly giving it now. I don't really know how this conversation is going to go, because there are actually a few things I want to talk to you about, but I need you to know that the outcome of this talk changes nothing about what I feel for you. This, I promise you." She lets out a shaky breath. "I - I need the same from you."

Quinn barely hesitates. "I love you," she says. "I know we've both been through things in the past, and we've got a ways to go, but I can't imagine my life without you, and I never want to." She runs a hand over her face. "Whatever happens today or any day that comes, I know we're going to figure it out. I mean, we've made it this far, haven't we?"

Rachel snorts. "That shouldn't make me feel better, but it actually does."

Quinn laughs softly. "I'm here, Rachel. I'm constantly terrified, but I'm here, because I love you, and I'm in this with you. I love you."

Rachel feels something settle within her, and it's enough to get her talking. "There were already things we needed to talk about, but I think discussing what happened today is important for us." She swallows nervously. "I think it's pretty obvious that I'm attracted to you," she starts; "because I can't really stop myself from thinking about you and your body, or about how much I always want to be touching you."

Quinn opens her mouth to say something, but Rachel raises a hand to keep her quiet.

"I think - I think maybe I should talk and you should listen, and then you'll talk and I'll listen, and then we can have a conversation after that. Is that okay?"

Quinn just nods, absently shifting in her seat to get more comfortable.

"I didn't think I would actually want much of a physical relationship after everything that happened with Justin. It just didn't appeal to me, and I forced myself with Finn, because I needed to prove to myself that I could, you know?" She bites her bottom lip, feeling herself flush. "That I could like it. Being touched again, and actually touching. With him, it was different. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was uncomfortable, but I didn't really like it. Not the way I do with you.

"God, Quinn, all I want to do is be with you. Touch you, hold you and kiss you, and just be with you, and I find it terrifying, because I'm constantly on this edge, and all I want is to give myself to you." She closes her eyes for a moment. "I talked to Dr Howell at length about this, and about us. I was worried, you know, that we were both too screwed up to be in a heathy relationship. She made me explain how I see myself, and how I see you, and then try to explain how you see yourself and how you possibly see me, and what I've been able to conclude is that we're pretty much as messed up as we can be at this age, but that has no bearing on just how much I love you.

"This isn't some high school fling. It isn't even a 'for now' kind of relationship. We're dealing with forever here, and I really want to be a 'whole' part of this relationship. I don't want to give you just parts of me, because we both deserve all of me to be invested in us. The thing is that, sometimes, I'm not quite all right, and the fact that you love me regardless of that means everything to me. Do you even know what you do for me? Do you have any idea how fucking happy you make me?

"That day, that man took so many things from me. He robbed me of my sense of self and safety, and he took away my ability to trust and just be, and then you came along, and you were probably more guarded than I was. Helping you helps me, and I figure it's the same for you, because I get this sense or purpose when I'm with you. Like, you make me happy, and I make you happy, too. I wake up smiling, you know? It's completely ridiculous, and you can laugh if you want to, but I wake up in such an annoyingly good mood because I am just so happy that I get to love you.

"A lot of my happiness is to do with you, and I asked Dr Howell if that was something to be worried about. Like, if things go sideways between us, what happens to me? And, really, my dependency might not be entirely healthy and, yeah, she agrees with that part, but it might not be as bad as I think. I love you and you love me, and we're in a committed relationship, so it's okay that you and my general happiness go hand in hand.

"Because, God, I'm in this, Quinn," she says. "I'm with you and I'm in this relationship, and I can't imagine wanting to be with anyone else. I've never felt this way about anyone else and, yeah, I've had relationships before. Finn was the only one of note in Wallingford, but there were a few in New York. I've been 'happy' in relationships, but it's nothing like this.

"Sometimes, I just look at you and I can't believe my luck. I honestly can't believe that every decision I've ever made has led me to you, and this is the part that unsettles me. I was very, very different before my assault. I was outspoken and forward, friendly to a fault and entirely too trusting. I can't say that you and I would have been as compatible before, and I hate that there's a part of me that's sometimes grateful that I've been through some kind of trauma.

"It disgusts me, really," she says. "But, then, I take a step back and reevaluate what I deem important in my life now. Before, singing was my entire world. Dancing and acting, and my voice; it was all I focused on, and I was borderline insufferable because of it. But then Justin did this thing, and life just kind of shifted into perspective, and I've been able to see past my dreams of fame and look at what else will make my life full.

"Don't get me wrong, I love to sing, and I'm so grateful that I've managed to hold onto that through all the other changes in my life. But, it's not everything. If I had to choose between my family and a potential career, I would choose my family. I would choose you, and I sometimes have to acknowledge the part that Justin may or may not have played in making me see that before I lost other pieces of myself."

Rachel sucks in a breath, trying to bring them back to the topic on hand: their physical intimacy.

"I've really missed you these past few days," she says. "Not just being able to touch you physically, but being able to see you as a whole. I know we talked every day and there was Skype, but being in the same room as you is different. I missed you, Quinn, and I don't want to go through any number of days without you, okay? I can't.

"Which makes me think about graduation a little too much, and about what happens afterwards. My intention is to go to New York. You know I've applied to a handful of schools there, and I suspect it might be presumptuous of me, but I want you with me. I want us to have this strong, adult relationship where we live together and get through domestic life together. I want to go grocery shopping with you and cook in our kitchen with you.

"I know it sounds crazy. We've barely officially been together for two months, but this is it for me. You are it for me, and I want this. I want this forever relationship with you, which forces me to acknowledge that the kind of relationship I intend to have with you will require some level of physical intimacy."

Rachel reads the slight distress in Quinn's features, and then she amends her own statement.

"Okay, not a requirement, but I won't expect you to stay with me forever without sex, Quinn. That's not fair to either of us. I did promise you that I would try, and I will. Just, not yet. I mean, I know I want to have sex with you." She flushes at the same time Quinn does. "I imagine it'll be quite great."

A slow, almost predatory, smirk spreads across Quinn's gorgeous face.

Rachel laughs softly. "I don't think it's going to happen any time soon, but you're the one, okay? I know you have more experience than me when it comes to… girl sex, and I trust you enough to make it… special. I just - I don't really trust myself at this moment. I don't know how I'll react to being… touched that way, and I'm not willing to risk it. Is - is that okay?"

Quinn blinks, and then nods.

"I don't - God, this is embarrassing - touch myself anymore," Rachel carefully admits. "I haven't since before that day, because I'm generally afraid to. I didn't really have much of a reason before you, either, but I think I might try."

Quinn is beet red, and Rachel just has to laugh at her.

"I think, maybe, I'd be okay with us pushing the limit a bit," Rachel says. "I love our make-out sessions. I love the feel of you pressed against me, and I love being able to touch you. You're gentle with me, and you use just the right amount of force. I don't feel unsafe with you, and I really just want to keep doing what we've been doing, and more."

Rachel drops her gaze, feeling small in ways she hasn't in a while.

"I haven't really told you this, but I - I actually, God, orgasmed when he was - " she stops, horrified. "There's very little I remember about the actual nineteen minutes, but I can't get over the way my - my body betrayed me." She scrubs at her face. "They - they said that I must have liked it," she forces out. "During the trial. It was part of his defence. It - it was horrible, and I don't, shit, I don't trust my - "

Quinn makes a pained sound, and Rachel's eyes snap towards her. "Rach," she whispers. "Please."

Rachel just nods, and then Quinn is shooting out of her seat and moving to hold her. She's careful, almost too afraid to hold Rachel too tightly when she's in this state.

Rachel leans into Quinn's gentle embrace, burying her face in her neck and breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of apples and cinnamon.

"I hate this," she forces out in a harsh breath. "I hate him, and I hate this."

Quinn just holds her, gently rubbing a hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her.

Rachel just sits for a while, focusing on her own breathing, and tries to time it against the beating of Quinn's heart.

Eventually, when she's calm enough, she says, "You can talk now."

Quinn lets out a small, amused breath, and then sighs. "I'm not really sure what to say," she carefully admits. "There were a lot of things said, and I'm not sure where to begin. The thing that sticks out for me is that you believe sex is a requirement for this relationship, which it's not. It's not, Rachel. Do I want it? Yes. Do I want it with you? Yes. Will I ever leave you because you won't put out? No."

Rachel just stares at her.

"I want it for you," she says. "I - I wish you could have a good, wonderful experience that could just erase everything he did. I know it doesn't necessarily work like that, but it's something I think about. Sex - it's supposed to make you feel good, and I hate that - " her voice catches. "God, I want to do that for you, Rachel, and I hope, one day, you'll be comfortable enough to let me."

Rachel just presses a kiss to her neck.

"I'm yours, you know?" Quinn says. "I'm entirely yours. I don't even belong to myself anymore and, okay, it fucking scares me, but I - I don't trust anyone else, which is a feat in itself, and I get that you have your own hang-ups about that, because… I do too."

Rachel lifts her head to look at her.

"I know you worry that you're the first person I've told 'I love you' and actually meant it."

Rachel blinks in response, absently wondering how she figured that out when she said nothing about it.

"I'll figure out a way to explain it," Quinn says, smiling slightly. "Right now, I just want to assure you that I want the same things you do. In terms of our official dating, yeah, it hasn't been all that long, but none of that means anything, Rachel. I want that life you're describing, because I don't want to spend any more days without you, either.

"Being away from you is horrible. I hate it. Maybe we're spoiled here at Dalton, with our rooms right across from each other, but I don't want anything different. I'm selfish, and I want more. I want all of you."

Here, Quinn pauses, thinking over all the words that have already been said.

"As for New York, I've applied to some schools in the area," she says. "I wanted Yale," she confesses quietly. "It always seemed like the place for me, but it's a Fabray Alma Mater, and I'm trying to keep clear of anything to do with my family. So, I could, and I would. I want to be with you, and I can see us together in New York, just going about life and facing every day and all its problems… together.

"Because, I think we're getting better at that, right? I'm… trying. There are things we need to discuss about what happened at home, and I know we still need to talk about your mother, Noah and Eric."

Rachel visibly flinches.

"I know," Quinn murmurs sympathetically. "But, we're here and we're together, and I love you, and we're going to figure this all out." She smiles lopsidedly. "I imagine you have this Dr Howell on speed dial, right?"

Rachel chuckles, and then hides her face in Quinn's neck again.

Quinn adjusts her hold, and draws Rachel closer, almost into her lap. "I'm as scared as you are," she says. "Maybe more, maybe less, about different things, but I'm in this, Rachel. I've been committed since, well, a long time ago. I'm in with both feet, and both hands, and all my belongings and all my fucking baggage and, if you're willing to put up with me, then I guess I kind of have to put up with you too, right?"

Rachel exaggerates a gasp as she pulls back sharply. "Quinn Fabray, I never."

"Ssh," Quinn says. "I'm talking."

Rachel pouts, and Quinn can't resist pecking her lips. Which turns into more of a kiss than she expected, and Rachel practically crawls into her lap, moving to straddle her legs and supporting her own weight on her knees.

"Rachel," Quinn breathes; "I thought we were supposed to be having a conversation."

"We are," Rachel whispers back, her hips shifting as she settles more comfortably. "My mouth is talking to your mouth."

Quinn laughs, and then surrenders, because she has no reason to fight this. Why would she, when the girl she intends to spend the rest of her foreseeable future with is literally sitting in her lap? "So, you think the sex with me is going to be quite great, huh?"

Rachel responds by sliding her tongue into Quinn's warm and inviting mouth, effectively shutting them both up.

"Why have I never been here before?"

Rachel asks the question with undisguised wonder in her voice, and Kurt can't help grinning at her enthusiasm.

"I thought I knew everything about this school."

Kurt laughs. "Rachel, you're acting as if I've taken you to Narnia," he says. "We're just coming to watch Quinn play soccer."

"Again, why have I never done that before?" she asks, and it's more to herself. Quinn is her girlfriend. She's supposed to be more supportive than this.

Kurt just shakes his head as he turns his attention to the field where the Dalton Academy Griffins are warming up for their first home game of the new year.

Quinn is leading her team through a few drills, and he's always marvelled at how unburdened she is when she's on the field. As if she can just let go of every expectation and just play.

It's actually beautiful to see.

"Why is their schedule so jam-packed?" Rachel asks him, and he tears his eyes away from the girls as they warm up on the grass.

"I don't know," he admits. "It's always been like that." Then: "And, in answer to your question about never having watched her before; you two weren't exactly friends before. And then she got injured and couldn't play, and then we went on Break, and now you're here."

"Now, I'm here," she murmurs, her eyes tracking Quinn as she guides her team through several exercises. She's dressed in her school tracksuit, looking as calm and foreboding as ever.

She looks… intense, and Rachel shouldn't be as turned on as she is just watching her… run.

But, she is.

God, she really, really is.

Kurt leans back slightly. "You should probably know that Quinn is actually really good," he says. "Like, really really good."

Rachel looks at him. "How good?"

"She could probably be playing for the national team."

Her brow furrows. "Why isn't she?"

"You're going to have to ask her about that yourself," he says. "It's my understanding that she's started to…open up to you about some things."

"She has," she reveals. "We're trying."

"I suppose that's the best we can ask for," he says, sighing.

"Does she talk to you?"

"Not really," he says. "She talks to me about prefect things and soccer things. Or fashion, and my dad. She likes talking about the choir but, other than that, we don't really delve any deeper. I'm the one who does most of the talking. She's a good listener."

Rachel nods. "That, she is, yeah," she says. "Just, stick with her, though," she says. "She'll surprise you."

"Oh, I'm sure," he says with a laugh.

A whistle sounds somewhere on the pitch, and Rachel watches as Quinn and the rest of the team head back into the locker rooms to strip to their kits and have their final team talk. Rachel can only imagine how intense that will be.

It's Quinn's first game in almost three months, and she's been a ball of nervous energy for a few days now.

Making out has been intense.

Everything about Quinn has been intense.

She's been a little distracted, too, but that could be for any number of reasons, right?

"Kurt," Rachel says; "Has Quinn mentioned anything to you about her birthday?"

He frowns. "Uh, no," he says. "I don't even know when it is."

Rachel suspects that the only person who might know is probably Santana, but that's not a talk she's ready to have. She can almost feel Brittany and Santana possibly working up to bringing up what they may or may not know about her relationship with Quinn in conversation.

"Why?" Kurt asks.

"I don't like not knowing," she says with a slight shrug. "And she knows it."

"It's driving you crazy, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Kurt just laughs, and then falls silent when the two competing teams lead out and line up alongside the referees for the game.

Quinn looks tall and foreboding, her face set and giving nothing away. She's standing with her hands behind her back, and Rachel is tempted to take out her phone and take a picture of this particular facet of her gorgeous girlfriend.

Somehow, she resists.

After the National Anthem plays from the PA System, the teams move into position, and Quinn and the other team's captain meet with the referee for the coin toss.

Quinn wins, of course, and then it begins.

Kurt and Rachel are sitting in the third row, close enough to see all the action, and for Quinn to spot them easily.

"Oh, shit," Rachel finds herself saying the first time Quinn picks up the ball in the midfield and runs with it.

She gets unfairly tackled, but oh, shit.

Kurt nods, not taking his eyes off the field. "What did I tell you?"

For ten minutes, Rachel can barely look away from the way Quinn commands the field. She leads from the front in such a way that she seems so much older than she is. She barks out instructions and offers praise and direction as the play goes on.

"I don't even know what I'm watching," Rachel eventually says. "I mean, Quinn tried to explain some of it to me the other day, but I couldn't really follow."

Which is really because Quinn was topless, and her bra-clad breasts were right there. How was Rachel supposed to concentrate on anything else, really?

Kurt leans into her. "I know I'm about as gay as they come, but I actually like watching sports," he says. "And, not just the male ones," he adds with a saucy wink. "It's something my dad and I bond over, because there's very little else we have in common. I don't play sports, but we watch games together."

Rachel smiles at him, because she really likes learning pieces about him, and about Blaine, who she thinks would be perfect for Kurt, but she's trying not to get involved in that.

Apparently, Blaine has his sights set on an older guy who works in retail in the city.

"Anyway, I'm quite well versed in soccer," Kurt says. "I can help you figure it out, if you want?"

"Please."

And, so begins Rachel's soccer education.

Kurt talks her through the plays as they're happening, commentating quietly. He even successfully explains the offside rule when Quinn gets flagged, and Rachel is so proud that she finally understands that she shouts in discontent at the decision.

Kurt laughs, and Quinn shoots her an amused look.

The stands aren't exactly full. It is a Saturday morning, after all, but there are enough people to make substantial noise. Most are boys, and Rachel won't blame them, even if far too many are actually ogling her girlfriend.

Rachel can't deny it.

Quinn looks hot.

"Okay, look at this," Kurt says, grabbing her forearm. "Look at how Quinn draws the central defender with her into the midfield. It creates space for number seven to run in behind. Watch."

Rachel does.

She sees Quinn receive the ball, turn immediately, which leaves the defender flat-footed, and then she feeds a through-ball that number seven latches onto. Rachel recognises her as Gina Doherty, who shoots, only for the keeper to save it by pushing it outwards… straight into Quinn's path.

It's almost too easy the way Quinn slots the ball home, and then runs off towards the corner to celebrate the goal with her team.

Kurt and Rachel jump up together and shout their praises for Dalton's number nineteen. They even do a little dance, shimmy left and then right, and Quinn waves at them when she heads back to the centre circle for the restart.

Rachel swoons, and Kurt waves back with a stupid smile. Out of everyone who's come to see Quinn, they are the ones deemed important enough to be acknowledged.

It draws attention to them that they don't really see coming, until Kurt explains the way Quinn bends her run to get in behind the defence, and number ten - Sarah Goodman - feeds her the ball, which she turns into her second goal by shooting through the keeper's legs.

Quinn's celebration is a little more subdued this time, but her smile is wide and true, and she waves at Rachel and Kurt again, which makes them both blush.

"She's really good, isn't she?" a foreign voice says behind them, and both of them turn to see a tall, dark man sitting on the bench just above theirs. He's just dropped his phone from where he appears to have been filming the game.

Kurt recovers first. "Number nineteen?" he asks.

The man nods. "I've been watching Quinn Fabray for some years now, and she's constantly improving. Even in this environment."

Rachel's eyes widen in sudden realisation. "You're a scout," she states.

He nods, before holding out his hand for them both to shake. "Something like that, yeah. My name is Owen Masterson, and I've been trying to recruit your friend since she blew up in the girls' Varsity soccer league her freshmen year."

Rachel frowns. "I assume you're here because you've been unsuccessful?"

"Me and many others," he says solemnly. "She won't even hear what I have to say."

"But you keep coming back," Kurt points out. "Because she's that good."

Owen nods. "She's ageing out now, but we could have used her at Under Seventeen level."

Rachel blinks. "National level?"

Owen nods. "She's far too good for this," he says, absently gesturing at the field of play, where Quinn has just been unfairly tackled… again. "Excuse my eavesdropping, but I've been listening in on your commentary, and I think you both know the truth of what I'm saying."

Kurt nods with a sigh. "Her teammates don't read the game the same way she does," he says. "They can't find her when she makes her runs, and they don't - " he halts. "Yeah, she's too good for this," he concludes.

Owen looks at the field again, where Quinn is lining up to take the free kick she just won. "Watch this," he says as he reaches for his phone again, and both teens tense in anticipation. The stands actually fall silent. "The angle would probably suit a left-footer," Owen says, more to himself than anything. "I'm surprised she's taking it."

Kurt glances at him. "She's the only one she trusts to do it justice," he says.

Owen just nods.

Kurt keeps talking, mainly to Rachel. "We came out here last night, so she could practice. She made me stand in goal, which was just ridiculous. I think she shot from like fifty different angles, and this is one of them."

Rachel watches the concentration on Quinn's face, her own heartbeat rising as she waits. Quinn barely looks away from the ball until the referee blows her whistle for the free kick to be taken. And, then, with one glance up, Quinn decides, and then runs up to the ball.

Rachel sucks in a breath, and holds it as Quinn kicks the ball with the inside of her foot, bending it around the wall, and into the top corner of the goal.

The net ripples, and then the crowd goes wild.

Quinn just turns to face her team with her arms in the air and the goofiest smile on her face, because this girl has just scored a hat trick before half time.

Rachel waves back when Quinn acknowledges them again, clearly not seeing Owen sitting behind them.

Owen sighs when the half comes to an end, and the teams disappear into the locker rooms. "I would do anything to get her to…" he trails off. "If she doesn't want to play nationally, I can live with that, but college soccer is there, and she could do wonders if she wanted to. Full rides are in the cards for her, as long as she's got the grades."

"She's our Valedictorian," Kurt automatically says.

Owen huffs. "Is there anything she can't do?" he asks, almost rhetorically.

Kurt answers, anyway. "Probably not," he says. "She's athletically gifted, creative in unbelievable ways and she's generally a nice person. It's the worst, you know, when someone is pretty and smart and can actually sing and play the piano, and they're actually kind of nice to be around. It's like, seriously, can there be one thing wrong with you?"

Despite herself, Rachel snorts. "Kurt," she admonishes with a laugh.

"I'm serious, Rach," he protests. "She even bought me a vintage sewing machine for Christmas. I'm an Atheist, but she just wanted to get me a gift, so she did. Like, what the hell?"

Rachel shakes her head in amusement. "Would you believe me when I tell you she snores?"

"No fucking way."

Rachel laughs out loud. "Totally."

"I bet it's that dainty, princess kind of snoring," he grumbles, and she bumps him with her shoulder. "She caught a nap on my floor the other day, and I heard no such thing."

"Don't mention it to her," she says; "she'll develop a complex."

Kurt nods. "Of course."

It's something unspoken between them that the two of them have tasked themselves as two of Quinn's protectors. They've seen enough to know that behind all the bravado is a quiet little girl, whose only mistake was seeking love from people who were unable and unwilling to give it to her.

Owen butts into their conversation then. "You're both her friends," he starts. "You obviously care about her. I mean, what I can offer her is a fast track to a very promising future. I don't really know why she won't give any of us the light of day, but I'll keep coming. I want her."

In any other context, his words would probably be cause for concern, but Rachel can sense his devotion to Quinn's talent.

Rachel pins him with a look. "What colleges are you representing?" she asks.

"Right now, Princeton," he says. "Their program is one of the best, and she would get the most out of it. They're willing to deal, and I would really like the opportunity to present it to her. Hell, I could probably also get the Head Coach to come out here herself just to meet her."

Kurt furrows his brow. "You want us to talk to her, don't you?"

Owen presses his lips together. "I have to try another tactic," he says. "She's not going for anything else, and I figure her friends could probably get her to consider hearing what I have to say. That's all I ask. One meeting. If she doesn't like it, I'll leave her alone, however reluctantly. I'll probably cry about it for a few days, but I won't bother her again, I promise."

Rachel can't help her smile. "You're probably just the right side of dramatic for me," she says.

"And me," Kurt adds.

Rachel sighs. "Look, I won't speak for Quinn, but you must know she's her own person. I don't mind bringing it up to her, because we've all been discussing colleges lately, and it's nice to know we have all these options when Acceptances and Rejections start being sent out." She sighs. "All I'm saying is I make no promises. I'm not going to try to… manipulate her."

"Of course not," Owen quickly says. "I would never ask you to do something like that."

For whatever reason, Rachel believes him.

Owen reaches into his jacket pocket and produces his business card. "Here," he says, handing it to Rachel. "This is my number. I'll probably try to make it out to a few more games this season, so we can schedule a meeting around one of them, if she agrees."

"Okay," Rachel says.

"Okay," Owen echoes.

Kurt smiles at them both. "Okay," he says, drawing out the word. "They're coming back on. Enough business talk. Five bucks says Quinn scores a fourth."

"Ten says she scores five in total."

Owen chips in. "Double hat trick, for twenty."

None of them win.

"How did I not know?" Rachel muses as she and Quinn head back to their rooms from the soccer field. "Like, how did I not know you were this soccer demon?"

Quinn groans. "I don't think I like being referred to as a demon," she says.

Rachel ignores her. "I didn't think it was even humanly possible to single-handedly destroy another team the way you dismantled Reading House. It - it was appalling, and yet so satisfying."

Quinn rolls her eyes, hiking her gym bag further up her shoulder. She's still in her uniform and cleats, choosing rather to shower and change in her bedroom.

She's also not completely oblivious to the way Rachel has been checking her out since she stepped onto the field.

"Quinn," Rachel says. "You scored seven goals. Seven." She raises her hands to show her the number with her fingers, and then drops them. "I'm not really in the know with this whole soccer thing yet, but even I know that's intense. How do you feel?"

"Sweaty and grimy, and in desperate need of a shower."

"Quinn."

She sighs. "I feel a little bad, to be honest," she admits as they near the residence building. "I didn't set out to embarrass them. I guess I was a little excited to be back, and I got carried away. I usually have better control than that."

Rachel stops walking immediately. "Wait," she says. "Are you trying to tell me that you normally deliberately play at less than your level?"

Quinn doesn't respond, which is answer enough.

"Why?" Rachel asks, as she gets them moving again.

Quinn sighs again. "I - I just do," she says; "otherwise days like this happen, and I score seven goals without really meaning to."

Rachel lets out a small laugh. "I'll give you that one, because you had no idea about that seventh one," she says. "It just bounced off of you."

"Totally not my fault," Quinn agrees.

Rachel bumps her slightly. "I still don't know why."

Quinn glances around, just making sure nobody is actually within listening distance. "I love soccer," she says. "It's probably my favourite sport. The problem is that it's not considered a very… feminine sport, which really means that my parents don't approve. I managed to strike a deal with them that, if I continued playing the piano, kept up with my grades and didn't fuck up, then I could play whichever sport I wanted to.

"I didn't expect to be rather decent at it, and I was scouted pretty early. I - I made the mistake of mentioning it to my parents, stupidly thinking they would be proud of me, but I got the opposite reaction."

Rachel just adds yet another thing to the list of reasons why she hates Quinn's parents. What kind of people would make their child hide his or her talent?

"The deal was amended. If I wanted to play, it had to be for the school and for the school, only. They'd pull me out of it if I got recognised for my talent, so I tried to… temper it, as it were. But, I don't know, I love the sport too much to just… sit back. It's fun for me, and I love scoring goals. It's this… accomplishment for me, and I don't want to lose that. So, I guess, I made a decision to stay playing, even at a lower level than I'm capable, than not to play at all."

Rachel isn't even sure what to say at this point, so she says nothing.

Instead, she steps a little closer to Quinn, so their arms brush as they walk. It's all she can offer while she tries to figure out just what she's feeling about what she's just been told.

Every day, she learns a bit more about Quinn and her past, and the pieces are threatening to break her. It just doesn't seem fair that this one, perfect and broken girl has had to endure so much.

When they get to Quinn's room, Rachel decides they're not going to tackle all of that today.

It's Saturday, and they have a trip to the city planned, so they'll worry about everything else later.

Right now, though, Quinn is in her red uniform, and Rachel has been dying to touch for far too long.

Quinn sets her gym bag on the floor, and then moves to her closet to pick out some clothes. She starts humming to herself as she shifts through her shirts, trying to decide what is appropriate for her non-date with Rachel in the city later.

She gasps in surprise when she feels Rachel press the front of her body against her back. Rachel's hands slide around her waist and settle on her uniform-covered abdomen.

"Rachel," Quinn murmurs when the brunette presses a soft kiss to the skin of her neck. "I've been running around for ninety minutes. I'm sweaty and gross."

"I beg to differ," Rachel practically purrs.

Quinn lets out an amused breath.

"You taste salty."

"That's sweat and grime," she points out.

Rachel just kisses her neck again, her tongue darting out, which makes them both moan. She drags her nails over Quinn's abdomen, and Quinn presses back into her, inviting more contact.

"Rachel," Quinn breathes.

"You were amazing today," Rachel says, trailing kisses along her neck. "And this uniform… God, Quinn, I didn't even know uniforms were a thing for me until I saw you out there. I don't even want you to take it off."

Quinn sucks in a breath, and then spins around abruptly. Before either of them can settle, Quinn's mouth descends on Rachel's, and this kiss is everything.

Everything they've been building up to.

Rachel feels the irrepressible urge to touch every inch of Quinn's heated skin, and her mouth asks, "Can I see you?" before she can think too much about it.

Quinn just nods, her arms automatically lifting up when Rachel tugs on her soccer jersey. The garment gets thrown across the room uncaringly, because Rachel is back to kissing her, their tongues fighting for dominance.

It's moments like these that make Quinn wonder about her own control. She imagines it's taken years to get her to this point, and she wonders if they'll ever be a day when both she and Rachel feel comfortable enough for them both to, essentially, lose control.

Still, Quinn bends slightly, cups Rachel's ass with her hands and lifts. With a squeal, Rachel adjusts her grip on Quinn's neck, and automatically wraps her legs around Quinn's waist.

As Quinn shuffles towards her bed, Rachel continues to devour her neck, sure that she's going to end up leaving a mark. At this point, neither of them actually cares.

Quinn sets Rachel down as gently as she can, and then climbs on top of her. She rises up onto her knees, reties her ponytail, and then settles her body weight half on the bed and half on Rachel.

"Oh."

And then they're kissing again. It's slower now, languid and lazy, and Rachel hums into the contact, her skin heating up.

"Can I?"

Rachel isn't sure what Quinn is asking, but she nods anyway, and then Quinn is lifting her shirt, and pressing kisses to her abdomen. She squirms at the feel of her lips, hands sliding into damp, blonde hair.

Quinn's hands explore Rachel's skin, warm and slightly calloused, and Rachel wants to give her everything she is. It would be so simple.

But, not at all.

Quinn's lips find hers again, which stops her from saying something stupid.

Barely.

"More," Rachel forces out.

"What?"

Rachel grips the edges of Quinn's shorts and shifts her hips until the girl is settled between her own legs. "There," Rachel says. "Just, stay there, okay?"

Quinn looks as if she's in a daze, but she just nods with some difficulty, and then their kisses steadily restart.

It's something, Quinn muses, as she shifts to get more comfortable, and Rachel lets out the most amazing sound that isn't helping at all with Quinn's situation in her shorts.

"Don't," Rachel says, tensing slightly. "Don't move. Just, stay."

Quinn nods. "Okay."

It takes all of her control, but Quinn doesn't move.

She won't until Rachel tells her to.