Chapter Twenty-Five

"Is that a hickey?"

Quinn startles at the voice behind her, her hand automatically flying up to her neck where she knows Rachel left a mark earlier. Quinn covered it up with makeup, but she's a little antsy about it.

There's a little laugh. "I'm sorry."

Quinn spins around. "Don't do that," she says quietly, her voice giving away her spiked anxiety.

Rachel's features soften in apology. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry," she whispers, stepping closer to her but not risking touching her while they're in public.

Quinn, still, takes an involuntary step back, and Rachel kicks herself for forcing a regression.

And, they were in such a good place.

Rachel curses herself, and then tries to distract Quinn by pointing at the shelf of books in front of her. "That's one of my favourites," she says. "I've always been partial to Jodi Picoult, and Nineteen Minutes was, well…" she trails off. "It's a horrible, horrific story, and I don't condone any of it, but - " she stops. "I don't know how to say what I want to say without sounding sympathetic to the kid who took a gun to school and shot into crowds of students."

Quinn glances at her. "Did you ever think about it?"

Rachel's eyes widen. "What?"

"Getting back at your bullies?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I don't condone violence, Quinn," she says. "I realise that those people are probably more broken than I am, and they just don't know how to channel it in a way that doesn't hurt other people."

"You could forgive them?"

"I don't know," she says. "If they apologised, maybe. If they proved to me that they've actually changed, I would consider it."

Quinn regards her carefully. "I don't think I have the capacity for that," she says. "I've envisioned so many ways to hurt the people who hurt me."

"Your father?"

Quinn's frowns. "No," she says; "my bullies."

Rachel pauses. "Wait. What? What bullies?"

"Lucy was bullied a lot," Quinn says, almost matter-of-factly. "I mean, you saw her. Who wouldn't bully that snot-nosed little shit?"

"Quinn."

She looks away, in an attempt to steady her breathing. "Are you ready?" she asks. "Can we go?"

Rachel is tempted to make them stay here between the shelves of this bookstore, and just duke it out, but she realises they're probably going to need more privacy for the conversation she intends to have.

"We can go," Rachel says, and then Quinn is leading the way. They're supposed to be going for cheesecake again, but Quinn rather leads her to the cinema, and Rachel follows in silence.

Quinn buys tickets to a movie that's already started and that's obviously been in circuit for a while from the relative emptiness of the theatre. Quinn ducks into the darkest row at the back, far enough away from the large room's only other two occupants, who are sitting near the front and talking loudly.

They haven't even noticed the girls' entrance, and both of them are perfectly fine with that.

Quinn settles into a seat, and then pulls Rachel down into her lap, her arms automatically wrapping around the brunette's waist and holding her close.

Rachel realises this is Quinn seeking comfort after something that legitimately scared her - like with Declan asking about their being girlfriends - instead of pushing her away, and that means a lot.

They've come a long way since that truly horrific fight they had on Christmas Eve.

Rachel rests her arms over Quinn's. "I'm here," she whispers. "Baby, I'm right here, and I'm sorry. You're okay, and we're okay. I promise everything is okay."

Quinn just holds her tighter, burying her face in the back of Rachel's neck. She doesn't say anything, which is a reaction Rachel will take at this point.

Rachel just can't figure how they went from, uh, second base this morning to this. The ups and downs of their relationship have the power to give her whiplash, but she'll take this over nothing.

Any part of Quinn is more than enough.

It takes Quinn almost twenty minutes to relax, and Rachel even manages to get into the ridiculous movie they're supposed to be watching in that time. Her attention shifts when she feels Quinn move behind her.

And then a pair of lips on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Quinn murmurs.

Rachel sinks into her. "Don't be."

"You don't be either, then," she instructs gently. "I'm just having a reaction and, yeah, you scared me, and I kept thinking that I'm going to have to lie, and I'm just so sick of lying about our relationship, and fuck, Rach, maybe just don't give me a hickey where people can see it, okay?"

"Okay."

Quinn turns Rachel's head with her fingers, and then kisses her. "I love you," she says, and then kisses her again, and again.

Rachel twists in Quinn's lap until she's straddling her. "You know, I've always wanted to make out in a movie theatre," she says.

Quinn glances over Rachel's shoulder for a moment, and then sighs. She breathes out slowly, and then reaches up to kiss her again. It's a steady kiss, slow and lazy, and Rachel loves every second of it.

This is just Quinn, and she's just Rachel, and they're just two teenagers making out at the back of a movie theatre, and Rachel just wants them to have something simple and normal.

Quinn's hands are idle at her waist, and Rachel keeps her fingers threaded through Quinn's blonde locks. They're just kissing, almost reaffirming their relationship to each other, and Rachel could spend the rest of her life here.

With Quinn.

Always, with Quinn.

"Your lips are swollen," Quinn says as they finally make their way to what has now become their place.

Mainly, just to get cheesecake, but still theirs.

Rachel's entire body is still buzzing, and she doesn't find the fact that she's actually aroused particularly unpleasant. It's odd, because it's something she's been wary of, but she likes to think the talk she had with Quinn has helped her accept that wanting Quinn is actually okay.

Because, she does.

She really wants Quinn, but they were never going to do anything in a dark movie theatre.

"I really like that I'm the only one who knows why," Quinn adds, and Rachel has the urge to drag her into another dark room and devour her, which she forces herself to suppress.

Rachel just shakes her head.

At herself or at Quinn, she doesn't even know.

They have a bit of a routine now, when they get to the cafe. Quinn gets Rachel's verbal preference, and then goes to place their order while Rachel finds them a private, secluded table. She doesn't recognise anyone from Dalton in the establishment, so she's a bit more relaxed as she settles into her seat and watches Quinn at the front counter.

Her blonde girlfriend is ridiculously stunning, and Rachel sometimes gets struck by the very idea that Quinn is hers. There's always just something about her, even as she stands there, that just draws people in. She does it unintentionally, and Rachel doesn't think she's even aware of it, because she would be unstoppable if she were.

Right now, as she stands at the counter, absently pointing to her preferred cheesecake in the display case; Rachel feels this odd sense of contentment settle in her chest.

This girl is mine, she thinks.

It seems more permanent now, for some reason. As if Quinn has divorced her parents, and Rachel has adopted her.

In an entirely not weird, unethical way, because she likes to kiss this girl, and that would be wrong on so many levels.

Quinn is just hers, now, and that's that about that.

There's a particular grin on Quinn's face when she makes her way towards Rachel, and the brunette wants to freeze time and just soak in this moment. The look on Quinn's face is in such stark contrast to the panic that was making her tremble earlier.

"What?" Rachel asks once Quinn is in her seat and hasn't stopped with her shit-eating grin.

"I just got hit on," she says; "and I got far too much satisfaction out of making sure he knew I was taken."

Rachel just stares at her. "By me?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Just, taken," she says. "And happy."

"You are, aren't you?" Rachel asks, and she sounds more vulnerable than she intends. "I mean, you look happier than before, but sometimes I worry that - "

"I love you," Quinn says. "And, yeah, I'm definitely happier than before, and it's to do with you and… other things. I'm definitely more settled, Rach, and you have a lot to do with that, but I don't think we need to voice all of that out loud because I don't want to put that kind of pressure on our relationship. It's been barely two months."

Rachel can't decide how she feels about what Quinn has just said, but she's saved from a response by the arrival of their desserts and hot beverages.

They sit in silence as they prepare their drinks.

Well, as Rachel fixes hers with cream and sugar, because Quinn doesn't really indulge. Especially now that she's hitting the soccer field as hard as she is, and Rachel's sure she's going to hear a complaint about the cheesecake Quinn is about to consume.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to talk about the whole soccer thing again," she starts. "Are you consciously, umm, going to turn up the heat, as it were?"

"What?" Quinn asks, looking particularly amused.

"I guess I just don't like the idea of your limiting yourself," she says. "I hate that it's what you've been reduced to, and I just want you to shine to the best of your ability, regardless of what your parents say."

Quinn buys herself time by taking a sip of her Latte. "I'm - I'm done with them, Rachel," she says carefully. "Well, as done as my emotional state will let me be. As far as I know, they don't have any control over me, and I would like to start playing the sport I love to the best of my ability."

Rachel bites her bottom lip. "You're very good, Quinn."

Quinn regards her for a moment, and then says, "I know," as if she's merely stating a fact, which she is.

"Like, the kind of good that's probably going to take you places."

"I know."

Rachel sips at her cappuccino. "Do you know what I'm about to ask you?"

"Not in so many words," she muses; "But I did see you talking to Owen." She rolls her eyes. "He's very persistent, isn't he?"

"He really wants you."

"I know."

"You could go anywhere, Quinn."

"I know."

Rachel sighs. "Are you at least going to talk to him? Maybe, hear what he has to say, and then, I don't know, give yourself more options?"

"I don't know what you expect to happen, Rach," she says, as calmly as she possibly can. "I don't think giving me more options is a good thing. It's already hard enough making a decision."

"I just - I don't want you to think that you don't have choices if things go south with your parents."

Quinn sucks in a breath. "I have money, if that's what you're worried about. I won't get access to my trust fund until I'm eighteen, but I have parents who confuse affection with money, and my savings account is quite substantial, and it's all mine. Your dad helped me set everything up, and I should be good to go regardless of what happens between now and my birthday."

"Speaking of your birthday…"

"Na ah," Quinn says with a gentle smile. "You're not getting it out of me."

"How am I supposed to know when to give you your present?"

"Oh, Rach," Quinn almost purrs. "You give me the greatest gift every day by just being with me."

Rachel's heart skips several beats, and it's not even fair that Quinn can actually do this to her. She's cheesy and sweet, and it works on Rachel so well that she's capable of swooning without Quinn even having to touch her.

"February is a little less than three weeks away," Rachel says, sounding determined. "I'm going to figure it out."

"I don't doubt that."

Rachel desperately wants to lean across the table and kiss Quinn, but she forces herself to remain in her seat, biting her lip to stop herself from doing or saying something particularly scandalous.

Rachel refocuses on her cheesecake, constantly sneaking looks at the gorgeous object of her affection. They're exploring their physical relationship in ways that should make Rachel uncomfortable, but there's something about Quinn that makes her feel so, so safe.

It's been that way from the very beginning.

From the flyers and their aftermath.

Quinn is safety.

"What?" Quinn suddenly asks when she's obviously been staring for too long. "Something on my face?" She licks her lips out of habit, and Rachel watches the act with undisguised interest.

Rachel just really wants to kiss her. "Do we have to stay here?" she asks. "I find that all I want to do at the moment is kiss you, and I can't exactly do that here."

Quinn just hums, a steady smile on her face, as she continues eating her indulgence for the week - month, maybe. She enjoys this part of their relationship in ways she didn't even know she could. The banter is lovely, and one of her favourite things to do is rile Rachel up by being intentionally difficult.

Like, right now.

"Quinn," Rachel whines, knowing exactly what Quinn is up to. It usually makes their make-out sessions that bit more exciting, but she's impatient. She can't actually say that they would currently be kissing if Quinn were a boy, but she would probably appreciate the lack of social implications if such a thing were to happen.

A lot of things would be different if this wasn't a same-sex relationship.

Still, there's very little Rachel would change, because Quinn is hers, and that might not be the case in another life.

She shudders to think about it, and her foot slides across the floor to press against Quinn's.

"Rachel," Quinn says, clearly noticing the slight melancholy in Rachel's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you didn't know me?"

Quinn shifts uncomfortably. "Sometimes," she admits. "I don't like to dwell on that kind of thing, because I do believe everything happens for a reason, you know?"

"I know we don't talk about it all that much, but does that belief have anything to do with your religion?"

"Partly," Quinn confesses. "I believe in God's plan for me. That, exactly who I am and everything I'll ever be and do has been written, and there is nothing I could do any different. It's one of the reasons that I finally accepted that I can be gay and still believe in Him." She glances around nervously, suddenly afraid someone will overhear her.

"It's okay," Rachel assures her. "Nobody's even paying attention to us."

Quinn smiles sadly. "People always ask the question of, you know, if God is everywhere and sees everything, then why does he allow all this suffering to go on, right?"

Rachel nods to show she's following.

"But, I believe that He's just doing the best He can, just like the rest of us. The bad is the Devil's work, and God can only do so much if we don't… believe, as it were. Collectively." She shakes her head. "It sounds childish when I say it out loud," she says. "I know I'm, essentially, a good person. There are outside influences that have wanted to lead me astray and, yeah, people believe that it's the Devil that makes people gay."

She rolls her eyes. "But I have belief and faith, and the Devil's influence hasn't managed to break that, so I don't accept that I've essentially allowed him to sic homosexuality on me. I just can't believe that being able to love someone as much as I love you, regardless of your gender, is something the Devil is even capable of influencing. How is that even the worst thing in the world when there are people killing each other and children starving to death all over the world?"

Rachel's smile is gentle. "You are beautiful," she whispers, and she's not even talking about Quinn's physical beauty.

Quinn seems to realise this, and she blushes prettily. "Do you hate that I am religious?"

"Of course not," Rachel says, frowning. "I might not practice any one religion, but I respect them all in their own ways. People have their beliefs and, while I may or may not agree with some of them, I will respect them… until they get shoved in my face, that is."

Quinn chuckles softly.

"You know the entire Holt family is Anglican, right?"

Quinn nods. "Grandpa Holt mentioned it," she says.

"And yet they're the ones more accommodating to my dads' relationship," Rachel says bitterly. "Dad's family hasn't really spoken to him since he and Lee got together, which, I know hurts him. He doesn't really talk about it, but I can tell. We're both pretty lucky to have the Holt family in our corners."

Quinn sips at her drink. "You are, yeah."

"And, now you have them as well," Rachel says. "And the Berry family."

Quinn's smile spreads across her face. "I'm yours, aren't I?"

"You are," Rachel agrees. "Now, can we finish up here, so I can prove it to you?"

Rachel's proposed time spent with Quinn is thwarted by her two best friends. Splitting her time between Quinn, and Brittany and Santana is proving to be difficult, and she's determined to fix it.

Whatever it takes.

Quinn presses a kiss to her cheek when she drops the blonde off at her bedroom when they get back from their trip to the city, and then Rachel makes her way to Brittany's room.

Quinn mentioned something about possibly hanging out with Kurt and Blaine, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Rachel not to find it particularly amusing that they've both managed to find best friends who all happen to be gay.

She's almost whistling to herself as she walks down the corridor, and it's the only reason she doesn't see him coming.

Rachel wouldn't go so far as to call him the bane of her existence, but Sam Evans gets on her nerves purely because he exists. She wonders if it's something primal, that just knowing that he's kissed Quinn and had her attention makes her not like him on sight.

It's not hatred.

That emotion is reserved for the Prescott family.

Sam hasn't actually done anything to her, and she knows she's acting irrational, but there's nothing she can do. He just rubs her the wrong way, and she kind of wishes they never had to interact.

But, she's Rachel Berry and she's nothing if not polite. Also, Kurt and Blaine seem to like him, so he can't be the worst person in the world.

Right now, however, it looks as if he's seeking her out, and Rachel feels as if this kind of meeting definitely wouldn't have happened if she were walking with Quinn.

Rachel is tempted to bypass him entirely, just slipping past without acknowledging him, but he makes it impossible by stepping into her path and forcing her to slow to a stop in front of him.

"Sam," she simply says.

"Rachel."

His smile is present, but oddly hesitant. He's definitely apprehensive about something, and she just knows she's not going to like whatever he's going to say when he finally does speak.

"What can I do for you, Sam?"

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I was, umm, just wondering what was up with Quinn," he starts, and she frowns in confusion. "It's just, you know, she seems… different, now that we're back, and I wanted to ask what happened."

Rachel just stares at him, unsure how she's supposed to feel about someone spending so much time focused on her girlfriend. It's unsettling, to say the least, and she can't help but worry about what he's managed to see.

It's something she thinks about, sometimes: what people would actually see if they bothered to look.

She and Quinn probably aren't as careful as they should be, for two people in a secret relationship.

Quinn seems to be caring less and less about that, as each day passes.

Maybe that's what Sam has noticed.

Still, she says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam frowns. "We both know that's not true."

Rachel tries not to feel indignant, but he's making it very difficult. She owes him nothing, and she hates that he just thinks he can come up to her and ask her things. They aren't even friends.

And, with the way things are going, it's doubtful they'll ever be.

"Why don't you just ask Quinn?" she says, bitterness creeping into her tone.

Sam shifts his weight again. "You and I both know I can't do that," he says. "I'd never get a straight answer from her."

A part of Rachel wants to smile at his word choice, but she still kind of wants to strangle him. She's generally not a violent person - unless completely required - but there's just something about Sam's face that makes her want to consider it. She has no doubt she could take him.

She wonders if this is some kind of primal reaction to the idea that Sam may or may not be harbouring feelings for her girlfriend. She likes to think she's more evolved than that. She's definitely not about to have some kind of pissing contest with a boy who she knows doesn't stand a chance.

Quinn is gay.

She's very, very gay, and she's in love with Rachel.

That's all there is to it.

Rachel clears her throat. "What makes you think you'll get any kind of answer from me?"

"Because you care about Quinn, and you know I do, too."

"I still don't see what that has to do with anything."

Sam sighs. "If I'm noticing, it's likely others are too," he says. "Quinn's always been one for her privacy, and you and I both know scoring seven goals in one game isn't exactly going to help with that."

Of course, Rachel knows that. Quinn does, too, and she doesn't seem to care as much as she once did.

She's almost out.

She's almost free.

Maybe Rachel needs to remind her that she's not quite there yet.

Maybe that's what Sam is getting at.

"Sam," Rachel suddenly says; "do you know when Quinn's birthday is?"

Th boy looks momentarily thrown by the question, and then he frowns. "I don't, actually," he says. "She's never told me. Why?"

Rachel shrugs. "No reason," she says. "And, uh, I hear what you're saying."

"I think you do, yes."

Rachel just nods, and then she gets going again, momentarily surprised that he lets her.

The conversation was full of unanswered questions and hidden meanings, and Rachel wonders, once again, if Sam knows about Quinn's sexuality.

That's yet another thing the two of them need to talk about.

"Where are you right now?"

The question catches Rachel a little off guard, but she manages to snap to attention at the sound of Brittany's voice. "Hmm?"

"Your head," Brittany says; "where is it?"

Rachel sighs, giving Brittany her full attention. "I'm just thinking," she says.

"About Quinn?"

Rachel audibly swallows. She doesn't know how to answer that question. "She's my best friend," she says. "Is it so outrageous that - " she stops, suddenly unsure what she even wants to say. She and Quinn haven't really made decisions on who gets to know about their relationship now.

Nearly all of Rachel's family knows - the really important ones, anyway - and Tori knows on Quinn's side.

Now, they just have to consider their friends.

Rachel desperately wants to talk to Brittany about it. She imagines her best friend - who isn't Quinn - will have some sound advice for her.

While Brittany and Santana's own relationship isn't exactly a secret; nobody really knows about it. Santana is still particularly wary about her parents finding out, but she doesn't hide from Brittany or from Rachel. She's accepted her sexuality the same way Quinn has.

Rachel knows the consequences of Santana being outed are less than if it were to happen to Quinn, but Rachel wishes it on nobody.

Technically, even she isn't out.

Her family doesn't care, but she's never really thought about what it would mean to her if people at school learned that she's in love with a girl.

That she's attracted to a female.

Owing to her understanding of human thinking, she's sure that some people will assume that she's chosen the fairer sex because of what happened to her. Because a man hurt her, and she's unable to be in a relationship with one.

For a while, it was a legitimate fear of hers, but Finn helped with that.

Kind of.

But, Quinn has helped the most. Rachel worried she wouldn't be able to feel safe in a relationship. She worried she wouldn't be able to trust herself or her partner in a new relationship, but everything with Quinn has come naturally… in that department, at least.

Rachel wouldn't call anything about their time together particularly easy, but it hasn't been difficult either. They… fit, somehow, and Rachel can't imagine loving anyone more than she loves Quinn.

Brittany touches Rachel's hand, getting her attention once more. "She's your best friend?"

Rachel blushes, unable to meet Brittany's gaze. "Are you mad?"

"No," Brittany says. "I think it's wonderful to be in love with your best friend."

Rachel bites the inside of her left cheek to stop herself from speaking. She doesn't even know what she would say at this point.

"I am," Brittany says. "I'm in love with my best friend, and I wish that for everyone. Especially you."

Rachel just squeezes her hand. "I love you, Britt," she says.

"I love you too, Rach," she immediately returns. "I hope you know I'll always be here for you."

"I know," Rachel says. "Thank you, B."

"San?"

For the most part, Santana might know what's coming from this conversation, but she still fakes innocence as she turns her attention to her friend.

In another life, Santana knows they probably would never have got along. If she's being honest, she has to admit that, even now, without Brittany, she doesn't know if they would be the kind of friends that talk about things.

That's not who Santana is, intrinsically, but it seems it's who Rachel is. And Brittany. So, being with them has really forced Santana out of her comfort zone and into a place where she feels content to make her friends happy.

"What's up?" Santana asks.

Rachel blinks slowly. "Do you ever miss Quinn?"

Okay.

Santana definitely wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

"Do you miss her?" Rachel asks. "As in, you know, she was your friend for so long, and then she wasn't. Don't you miss her?"

The question is so unexpected and out of the blue; her mouth drops open. "Why are you asking me that?"

Rachel can't exactly admit that she's asking because she can't imagine anyone not missing Quinn. Even her fathers mention Quinn in every conversation she has with either of them, and she knows Hiram and Quinn talk on occasion.

"I just wonder," Rachel says, suddenly wishing she were with Quinn. She's tempted to take out her phone and text her girlfriend, just because she misses her.

Now that Quinn's taking several Art classes - she fulfilled all her required credits last semester, so she has some time in her timetable to explore her creative side - Quinn has taken to spending quite a bit of her limited free time working in the art studios, and Rachel always feels a little awkward interrupting her when she's in the zone.

Santana shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable. "I've decided not to think about it," she says. "It's better this way."

Rachel shakes her head at the girl's stubbornness. "I told her about me," she finally says. "That I like girls, I mean. She met my dads, San, and she was fine with it. She loves them, and the homosexuality doesn't bother her at all, okay? She is fine. God, just tell her, so we can all just, I don't know, get along."

"It's not that simple, Rachel," Santana protests, because it really can't be that easy. "I've met her father, you know? He's horrible, and he hates people like us. I mean, not only am I… gay, but I'm also Latina, and he hated me on sight." She closes her eyes. "Quinn didn't even... say anything. She just stood there and let him..." she trails off. "I mean, I don't blame her or anything, because he's fucking scary and I'm convinced he hurts her, but she could have said something to me afterwards, you know? She could have just said that his opinions weren't her own. I just - it's not that simple, Rachel. It's not."

Rachel sighs. "It really is that simple," she argues. "Quinn is... special. I know you know he hurt her, and of course her opinions aren't the same as his, so what's the real problem here, Santana? Because, it's not as if I don't already know you want to fix things, so what's the hold up?"

Santana glances away for a moment. "It doesn't matter what I want, okay?" she says, sounding defeated. "I hurt her. She looked at me with - with these eyes... with such betrayal. And, I know Quinn, Rachel; I know she'll never forgive me for that because I know I would never forgive her. It's - it's just who we are, and I'm sorry it's not all fitting into your narrative, but that's just the way things are, okay? Even if she can look past the whole gay thing, she won't look past the part where I - I gave up on her; where I left her; abandoned her when - when I promised I wouldn't."

"What?"

Santana fiddles with the edge of her workbook. "She had a rough time of it after she ended things with Sam. I don't really know why they broke up, but she was a wreck, and she kept asking me why I liked her." She frowns at the memory. "And she kept making me tell her that I would always be her friend, no matter what."

Rachel feels herself grow still at the knowledge that the story Santana is telling is probably around the time Quinn first suspected and started to accept that she was gay.

And she felt she couldn't even talk to her best friend about it, because it can never ever get back to her family. Rachel feels her heart hurt at the thought of Quinn going through all of that alone.

And then with Tori.

Rachel's face twists into a slight scowl.

Santana shrinks back at the look on her face, and she whispers, "I broke my promise." She shakes her head. "When she asked me not to leave her the way everybody else did, I promised I wouldn't. And, now, look where we are." She sighs. "It's even worse that I couldn't even tell her what was going on. I wouldn't accept that I chose… love over friendship any more than she would. Especially when I wasn't brave enough to give either of us a chance."

Rachel just nods, reaching for her phone because she can't resist the temptation to check in with Quinn.

Rachel: Not that this is clingy at all, but I really miss you.

Rachel: And, I love you.

Rachel: Please tell me I get to kiss you today :D

Rachel looks at Santana, making a decision she may or may not end up regretting. "If I could get her to agree to sit down with you, and just... talk; would you?"

"She won't," Santana argues.

"Just, if she did, would you?"

Santana sighs. "Fine," she says. "But you need to get your expectations in line. Quinn has issues neither of us even knows about."

Rachel smiles to herself, because that's just hilarious.

Really, Santana has no idea.

Rachel's slowly learning about all of Quinn's issues, and she's always worrying that Quinn will, one day, run from Rachel's.

Rachel mentioned to Dr Howell that she wondered if the reason she and Quinn seem to be so compatible is because they're both determined to hold onto the one person they've found who's willing to look past all their problems.

Or, really, the one person who's almost as messed up as they are.

Dr Howell took her worries in stride, and then asked her, again, if she would still be with Quinn if she were less damaged, or even more.

Rachel scoffed. "I love her. I love who she is. None of that other stuff even matters."

And, she supposes, that was that.

Rachel just smiles knowingly at Santana. "I'll set it up," she says.

Santana looks unaffected. "I'm not holding my breath."

Rachel just rolls her eyes, and then glances down at her phone when it buzzes.

Quinn: I'll be in my room from eight onwards, so you can come love me in person ;)

Quinn: I miss you too, dear :*

"Rachel?"

She lifts her gaze. "Hmm?"

Santana's eyes dart about for a moment, and then they settle on Rachel. She looks the most vulnerable Rachel has ever seen her, and Rachel holds her breath at the revelation. "Do - do you really think she'd actually want to talk to me?" Santana asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course."

"I said no."

Rachel sighs in exasperation, and has to force herself not to throw something at Quinn. It would be in jest, but even playful violence isn't something she's willing to risk with her girlfriend.

"I'm not going to tell you again, Rachel," Quinn says. "Please stop nagging me about this."

Rachel rolls over onto her back and stares at Quinn's ceiling, because she really can't handle looking at the stubborn blonde right now. "All I'm asking is that you just sit down with me, Britt and Santana and just have a conversation. God, is that too much to ask?"

"Actually, it is," Quinn forces out, keeping her gaze on the books open on the desk in front of her. Her entire body is tense, and she's sorely tempted to walk out of her own bedroom to get out of this conversation. "They're your friends."

"They are," Rachel agrees. "And you're my girlfriend. I think that gives me the right to request that you both... meet, as it were."

"What's the point?" Quinn argues. "They both already don't like me."

"That's not true," Rachel shoots right back. "Britt barely even knows you, and Santana is a special case."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "No," she says. "I love you, and I'll happily meet Brittany officially, but not Santana. I'm sorry, but I'm drawing the line there."

If Rachel didn't know Quinn as well as she does, she would probably hear the conviction in the blonde's voice and call it a day.

But, Rachel does know Quinn, and she can't mistake the longing and apprehension and thinly-masked fear she hears. Quinn wants this to happen, but she's too angry and hurt - still, all these months later - to allow herself to want it.

"Oh, baby," Rachel finally says, sitting up on Quinn's bed and looking at her with the softest expression.

Quinn's own features harden. "Don't," she says. "Don't pity me, Rachel. It happened, okay? The one person I finally trusted not to… fuck me over like everyone else in my stupid life did, and I got over it. Why should I even attempt to fix what we always knew was going to break? I'm - I'm unlovable - don't cringe like that, because it's true - and Santana left when she figured it out, and you will too."

Rachel immediately gets up from the bed and walks towards her. "Stop it," she gently says. "You're getting so far into your head right now. Think about what you're saying, just take a deep breath."

Quinn just stares up at her, looking a little lost.

"You know that's not going to happen," Rachel murmurs, coming to a stop in front of Quinn. "You know it. I love you, and I'm not leaving you." She cups Quinn's cheeks and tilts her head upwards, forcing the blonde to look at her properly. "How did we even get here, Quinn?"

Quinn instantly deflates. "I don't know."

"She really hurt you, didn't she?"

Quinn can't bring herself to reply.

"You haven't even allowed yourself to grieve the end of your friendship," Rachel points out, her tone solemn. "Is that something you need to do?"

Quinn shakes her head. "I'm not about to start crying, if that's what you're expecting to happen," she puffs out.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks, leaning forward to press a kiss to Quinn's forehead. "It might make you feel better."

"You're ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous."

Quinn sighs. "I am," she allows. "I'm sorry."

"Baby, I don't want you to be sorry," Rachel says. "I just want you to talk to me."

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, and presses her face into a warm abdomen. "Do we have to talk about this right now?" she mumbles.

Rachel drags her nails along the back of Quinn's neck, down past her shoulders. "No, we don't."

"Because, I'm pretty sure you mentioned something about kissing me today."

Rachel lets out a small laugh, and then presses a noisy kiss to the top of Quinn's head. "I am so in love with you."

"Even when I'm being unreasonable?"

"Even then."

"You're totally messed up."

Rachel pinches her shoulder, and she lets out the cutest surprised yelp. "Takes one to know one, baby."

Quinn chuckles, and then lifts her head. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

"I thought you said you had homework."

"Fuck homework," Quinn says so offhandedly that Rachel has no choice but to laugh. "You love me."

"I really, really do," she easily agrees, and then leans in to kiss her. It's a gentle press of lips that has them both sighing in content. And then Rachel pulls back. "You have homework to finish, because you have an away game tomorrow, and we both know you're going to be exhausted."

Quinn blinks up at her. "So, no to kissing?"

"Later, baby."

"Yes, dear."