Hello everyone! I'm back! And I come bearing a new update! The chapter was actually ready yesterday, but for some reason the website refused to let me upload it to my Doc Manager from my computer. So now I'm using my wife's PC (thanks hun!) to present you folks with Chapter 40 (aka 39B). But first, some housekeeping notes-

Thank you a million times over to everyone that has ever followed/favourited myself or my story. It's always wonderful to get those alerts. Thank you as well to everyone that has left me feedback. It is always interesting to hear your thoughts (yes, even the ones I don't agree with.) As most of you will know, I personally reply to the feedback I get (when I can) to thank you, so allow me to use this space to thank the people that have left me reviews as Guests. One of you asked if Red was the OITNB character, and I thought I should tell you that yes, she is. The choice was a conscious one - I like it when people can visualise the story, so I thought Red was the right option for this particular character.

With regards to this update, well, all I can say is that I hope you like it. As usual, all grammatical and spelling mistakes are mine, so feel free to point them out so I can patch them up. On that note, here ya go!

Rachel heard Quinn as soon as she opened the door to exit her room. "No alcohol till you're out of the pool."

"But Q," she heard Santana protest amidst sounds of splashing water.

"San, you know the rules. If you want a drink so bad then get out of the water and stay out," Quinn said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"You're no fun," the Spaniard complained.

"And you're a pain in the butt," Quinn shot back, making Rachel smile as she made her way to the timber door that led to the outdoor pool area. The brunette pushed the door open and stopped in her tracks when she came face-to-face with Quinn, who appeared to be heading inside, Raja and Rani by her side.

Rachel's brain short-circuited at the sight of the woman currently dressed in a light blue bikini top and short grey board shorts. Her eyes took on a mind of their own and immediately honed in on the tanned torso in front of her. Her gaze drifted up to the swell of breasts sitting above the toned stomach, and Rachel swallowed her now parched throat. Realizing she was staring, the teenager quickly looked up to meet equally shocked hazel eyes.

"Hey," Quinn said, in a shaky voice.

The tremor in the blonde's voice gave Rachel a boost of confidence and she stood taller in her own bikini and sarong. "Hello again, Quinn. Going inside?"

Quinn seemed to gather her bearings. "Yeah. I figured I'd make some punch or something for after we've had our swim." She raised her voice, her back still to the pool, "I think Santana might throw a hissy fit if I don't have a drink ready for her when she gets out of the water."

She shrieked when the Spaniard flung some water at her from the pool, turning to glare at the smirking Latina. "Careful, or all you're getting is Dr. Pepper."

"Gross, I hate Dr. Pepper," Santana said, moving to float on her back beside Marley.

"I know," Quinn threw back.

"Now, now children, play nice," Brittany called out from where she was sunbathing in a deck chair, her head angled towards towards the late afternoon sun.

"Need a hand with the drinks?" Rachel offered her hostess.

"Sure," Quinn smiled, and Rachel stepped out of the way to let the other woman lead the way back inside. The dogs went to follow Quinn inside but she turned and stated "Stay" in a commanding voice. The canines must have understood the order because they went off towards a shady spot while Quinn continued onwards.

"I've been meaning to ask," Rachel said, one step behind Quinn, "but what do your dogs' names mean?"

"Raja is Hindi for King, and Rani is Hindi for Queen," the blonde replied over her shoulder. She exited the hallway and into the sitting room, where she slowed down so Rachel could walk by her side. "I thought it was fitting since, to me, they look like black and white chess pieces."

"That they do," Rachel agreed. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," Quinn smiled. "So, what's your drink of choice? Alcohol wise," she clarified.

Rachel shrugged, her eyes darting across the room that was half-filled with the flower deliveries and gift baskets that had been arriving through the day. "I haven't had that much to drink besides wine to be honest, seeing that I'm still not old enough to drink in this country. But so far I'd say I prefer sweet drinks. Maybe Malibu?"

"We can work with Malibu," Quinn smiled as they walked into the foyer and through to a games room just off it.

A pool table stood at the center of the room, drawing Rachel's attention. "Do you play much?" Rachel asked, gesturing towards the wooden table covered in a deep blue felt material.

"I wouldn't call it playing," Quinn said self-deprecatingly, making her way to the bar in the corner of the room. "Failing miserably is a better description of my pool skills, or lack thereof. Santana's a shark though, and so is Fran." She walked to the back of the bar and crouched down to peruse the shelves below the countertop. "Do you play?"

Rachel stopped at the entryway to the bar, keeping her eyes on the blonde. "My parents bought a snooker table when I was seven and we've had it ever since. So I'm not terrible."

"You can challenge Santana to a game later if you'd like," Quinn said, moving a few bottles around so the sound of clinking glass filled the air. She pulled out a bottle of Malibu Rum and put it on the bar top. "There we go. Mmm, what else..."

Rachel watched as Quinn added a bottle of Asombroso Gran Reserva Extra Añejo to the countertop. "Santana will be happy with that," Quinn said, almost to herself, "and I'm pretty sure Marley is a beer girl..." The blonde looked up at Rachel, "I have plenty of beer in the fridge so I won't grab anymore just yet. Do you know what Brittany likes?"

"Red wine" Rachel answered immediately. She'd known the blonde long enough to know how much the Englishwoman loved a good drop of red. "Merlot, to be precise."

"Ah, ok, that's easy," Quinn said, standing up and grabbing the two bottles she'd pulled out. "The wine is in the cellar."

"Of course it is," Rachel said, earning an inquisitive look from Quinn. "This house is ginormous. Beautiful, but ginormous."

"Is that a bad thing?" Quinn asked, genuinely curious.

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm probably just a little envious of your amazing home. And by a little I mean a lot."

Quinn laughed and set off in the opposite direction from where they had come when they reentered the foyer. "Well, you could probably buy yourself an equally amazing home if you did as your parents suggested."

"I'll admit, I'm a lot more tempted to buy a home now than I was at the start of today," Rachel said, only half-joking.

Her nose gave Rachel an indication of where Quinn was leading her before they entered the actual room. "And you have a professional-grade kitchen too," Rachel commented drily when they walked through the door. "How surprising." She rolled her eyes so Quinn could see she was kidding. "God, it smells great in here."

Quinn came to a stop at the large granite island bench that filled most of the middle of the room, putting the bottles there. "Red's cooking her special borscht," she said, nodding her head at the large saucepan simmering away on the stovetop. "She's a fantastic cook."

"Yeah, Santana said when we were driving here this morning," Rachel said. "She was practically salivating at the idea of what Red would cook tonight. I can see why, and I haven't even tried the borscht yet."

Quinn smiled, then pointed behind Rachel. "Could you please pass me the punch bowl? It's in the closet behind you. The one on top."

Rachel did as asked, passing Quinn the large glass bowl she found front and center on the shelf. "That's pretty," she commented as the bowl changed hands.

"It is," Quinn agreed. "It used to belong to my grandma, my Mom's mom. She brought it with her when she moved here from Somerset after the Second World War."

"Wow," Rachel said, genuinely amazed at the history of the object Quinn was now emptying the entire bottle of Malibu into. "Uh, Quinn, I'm not going to drink that all by myself..."

The blonde chuckled as she let the last drops of the clear alcohol fall into the bowl. "Malibu punch is a popular choice, Berry. Trust me, you'll be lucky if you get two glasses before it's all gone."

Quinn turned around to put the bottle into the bin and made her way to the fridge. Rachel took the opportunity to run an appreciative gaze over Quinn's back, her eyes feasting on the strong shoulders and sinewy muscles that rippled lightly as she opened the fridge door and stopped to look for something. Her heart skipped in nervous excitement at the notion this woman, this gorgeous specimen of a human female, reciprocated her romantic feelings. Rachel had caught the looks Quinn had been darting her way today and was feeling rather confident that she wouldn't be turned down. The only question was when, and how, to bring it up.

Quinn turned around with a large bottle of pineapple juice in her hand, letting the fridge door close behind her. Rachel must have had a contemplative look on her face because the blonde arched an eyebrow at her as she made her way back to the bench. "Penny for your thoughts."

'Now, now!' Rachel's mind screamed at her. 'She's asking, just tell her!'

Instead she said "Uh... I was just wondering where your wine cellar was." Inside, Rachel face palmed.

"I'll show you," Quinn said, unsealing and unscrewing the lid of the bottle of juice before pouring all its contents into the bowl. "Let me just prep this amazing punch first."

"What can I do to help?" Rachel asked.

For the next ten minutes the two tennis players worked together to slice up oranges and lemons, create a spice mix with boiling water and make some sugar syrup before they mixed everything together in the glass bowl and put it in the fridge to cool.

"And now to the cellar," Quinn said, turning to a large door that Rachel had assumed led to a walk-in storeroom. "It's pretty cold in there, are you sure you want to come in?" Rachel nodded. "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you," Quinn joked.

The cold air hit Rachel as soon as the door was opened, and her curious eyes took in the flight of stairs that headed downwards. Quinn flicked a switch just inside the door, lighting up the stairs they needed to descend. "How cold is it in here?" Rachel asked, the hairs on her arms rising at the change in temperature.

"55 degrees" Quinn said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

Rachel joined her and looked around the small room, which was lined with floor-to-ceiling wine racks on three sides. While the racks weren't all full, Rachel was definitely impressed by the collection of wine on display. Quinn must have sensed her amazement because she said, "I like to buy a couple of bottles everywhere I go."

"This is amazing," Rachel said, walking closer to inspect some of the bottles. "My knowledge of wine-buying pretty much begins and ends with Daddy's advice that you always buy a bottle with a deep punt."

Quinn turned to Rachel, her hazel eyes looking almost yellow in the light of the cellar, and laughed. "And why is that?"

"He says the quality of wine in bottles with deep punts is generally better," Rachel replied. "Although I'm not sure that's necessarily true."

"I have noticed that the more expensive wines have deeper punts so who knows, he might be right," Quinn said, turning her head and running a finger along some of the bottles. "I know that bottles with deeper kick-ups travel better. Something about increased stability or something."

Rachel had stopped listening to Quinn midway through her explanation because she'd noticed that the blonde's nipples were standing at attention in the cold cellar. And the sight of the two pointed peaks and the goose bumps on the swell of Quinn's breasts was doing funny things to Rachel's belly. She tried to blink away the sudden burst of arousal that was coursing through her veins, grateful the blonde's attention was currently on the wine.

'But why fight it?' her mind asked. 'You think she likes you too, so why not just go for it?'

'Because she isn't a randy teenaged boy with no self-control', the sensible part of Rachel's mind argued with its Gemini twin. The teenager wasn't completely sure rational-Rachel was right; her fingers itched from wanting to touch Quinn. And oh, how she longed to kiss her!

'You could do that now," spontaneous-Rachel egged her on like the proverbial devil on her shoulder.

'Not till you've spoken to her,' rational-Rachel counseled.

With a start she realized Quinn was now facing her, holding a bottle of wine in each hand. She looked concerned. "Rachel?"

"Yes?" Rachel blinked, coming back to the present and internally congratulating herself for getting that one word out.

"I've said your name a few times now," Quinn said, stepping closer and intently peering at the teenager's face. "Are you ok? Is the cold too much? I've got the wine, we can head-"

"We need to talk," Rachel said, speaking before she actually stopped to think.

"What about?" Quinn asked, a worried frown creasing her brows.

"I-," Rachel started, but stopped abruptly when she heard a clatter from the kitchen upstairs. "What was that?"

"Probably Red," Quinn said, her gaze not leaving Rachel's. "What do we need to talk about?"

There was the sound of footsteps, closer this time, and then Red called out, "Quinn? Is that you?"

Quinn let out a quiet huff of breath, clearly not appreciating the interruption. "Yes, Red. I'm getting some drinks."

"A delivery man just brought some tulips. The living room is beginning to look like the Keukenhof Gardens," came the call from upstairs.

Rachel could hear Red's footsteps retreat, but the moment was gone. "Let's talk later," Rachel said, not unkindly. She turned to walk back up the stairs but Quinn transferred both bottles of wine to one hand, holding them by their necks, and reached out to stop the brunette with her free hand.

"No, we can talk now, if you'd like? Is something wrong?" she asked, her hand resting on Rachel's forearm.

The New Yorker was touched by the concern she saw etched on her features, and wanted to allay her fears. "Nothing's wrong," she assured the birthday girl. "I promise, I'll tell you later."

Quinn didn't seem convinced but she didn't push the subject. "Ok," she said, dropping her hand and letting Rachel lead the way upstairs.

Rachel appreciated the space Quinn was giving her but she couldn't ignore the sudden awkwardness that had settled between them as they ascended the stairs. Red was at the stovetop, stirring the borscht, and she stared at the pair over the top of her glasses when they reentered the kitchen. The brunette would be lying if she said she wasn't grateful for the presence of a third person right then.

She was racking her brains for something clever to say to ease the tension in the air when Quinn beat her to it. "Red, Red?" she offered as she opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. Rachel turned to smile at the blonde, and received a warm smile in return.

"Ha ha" Red said drily, "I have never heard that vun before."

Quinn twisted the corkscrew into the top of one bottle. "I'm just going to leave these here to breathe for a bit but really, feel free to pour yourself a glass if you'd like. There's some punch in the fridge too."

"Vot sort of punch?" the cook asked, stirring the ingredients in the dish.

"Malibu and pineapple," Quinn said, expertly uncorking the bottle, which let out a little pop, and then setting to work on the second one.

"Ugh, too sveet," Red said, making a face.

"Well, you know where the vodka is," Quinn replied, her eyes on the bottle before her.

"Now vee are talking," Red smiled. "But first, I go vok." She turned to look at Rachel, "You live vith athlete and you learn to be healthy too." She replaced the lid on the saucepan and addressed Quinn. "Make sure Santana does not come and steal a bite vhile I am out." Quinn nodded as the cork came off the bottle on the island bench.

"The borscht smells really great," Rachel complimented the redhead.

"Vait till you eat it," Red smiled confidently. "You vill be licking the plate."

"We're not all like Santana, Red," Quinn joked.


The blonde's words echoed in Rachel's head a couple of hours later as she used some fresh black bread to sop up the last of the red soup. True to form Santana had indeed licked up every last drop of the Russian dish and was leaning back in her chair with a look of absolute contentment on her features.

"I say it again," Francine Fabray said, tilting her bowl to spoon out the last of her soup, "there's a job for you at Cheerio if you'd like it, Red."

Quinn laughed from her place beside her sister. "We're a French restaurant, Fran."

The World No. 1 had been surprised when her sister, who was supposed to be in New York, had turned up just before dinner along with their mother and Judy's partner Peter to join the youngest Fabray's birthday celebrations. It had earned the mastermind behind the day, Santana, another big hug from the birthday girl. The other Fabray sister was only sticking around for dinner before she flew back to the city she now called home, so Quinn was staying close to her sibling through dinner.

Francine ignored her famous sister and addressed Red directly. "We'd make an exception for you, Red."

"Hey now," Santana spoke up, "I've already offered Red a job on my entourage, as my personal chef. If she's switching jobs, that's the one she's taking."

"Spasibo," Red grinned, "but I am happy vhere I am." She rose from her seat, "Now, if you vill excuse me, I have vurk to finish," she added, starting to collect everyone's used dinner plates and bowls.

"Let me help," Brittany offered, and Rachel, Marley and Finn stood beside her.

"Thank you," Red said, giving the quartet an appreciative nod of the head.

Santana stood up with an exaggerated sigh, "I guess I should pull my weight too." Quinn started to rise as well but Santana stopped her by raising a palm in her direction. "You stay where you are, Q. Hang out with your family while we help Red tidy up."

"But I'm going to see them tomorrow," Quinn pointed out.

"Quinn, it's your birthday. Just sit back and enjoy it," Santana stated, ending the discussion. The Spaniard picked up the last of the serving dishes and headed off to the kitchen with the others.

It didn't take long for the five of them to rinse the plates, stack the dishwasher, hand wash the serving dishes that weren't dishwasher safe and wipe down the kitchen while Red packed away the leftovers and put them in the fridge. When they were done, Santana turned to the older woman. "Do you know where Judy put the cake?"

"I vill bring it. You just svitch off the lights when I give you the signal," Red said, shooing the four tennis players and one football star out of the now clean kitchen.

The "signal" turned out to be an exaggerated sneeze, and Red and Santana pulled everything off like a well-oiled machine. Quinn's eyes lit up at the sight of the humongous chocolate cake, which Judy had baked herself. The gooey concoction of milk, dark and white chocolate tasted as good as it looked, and Rachel was practically ready to slip into a food coma by the time the dessert dishes and cutlery had been added to the dishwasher.

The other people lounging around the living room seemed to be in a similar state when Rachel rejoined them after a quick detour to what was to be her bedroom for the night. Santana, who was now dressed in a giraffe onesie, was lying on the sofa with her head in Brittany's sweats-clad lap, and Francine looked comfortable where she was sat on a lazy boy, nursing a glass of wine.

"That punch was amazing," Santana said, her eyes closed as Brittany ran her fingers through her girlfriend's dark hair. The Spaniard sounded drowsy, and Rachel wasn't sure if the fatigue of the day had caught up or Santana was just buzzed from all the punch and tequila she'd seen her consume. Not that she was really one to speak – Rachel had downed a couple of shots herself to go with the two glasses of punch she'd enjoyed after their swim and the two glasses of wine she'd had with dinner, and she was definitely feeling a little lightheaded. Thankfully she still felt in total control of herself and no one else had turned into a drunken mess either.

"Where are the rest?" Rachel asked, coming to a stop beside the sofa.

Brittany looked up at her with sleepy eyes. "In the games room, I think. Finn and Peter wanted to have a game of pool."

Rachel could hear the sounds of the game being played before she entered the room, and stopped near the doorway to watch Marley miss pocketing a ball by a long way. "This definitely isn't my game," the brunette smiled up at her boyfriend, passing him the cue stick.

"Yeah, I think we've been hustled," the football player said, grinning down at her.

The foursome looked up when Rachel walked further into the room. "Who's winning?" she asked, glancing down at the table that currently had a lot more solids on it than it did stripes.

Finn bobbed his head towards Judy and Peter, then said in a stage whisper, "I think they've been practicing."

"And I thought you would be a better shot than the rest of us, seeing how you're the only one that hasn't had a drink," Peter joked back in a strong Irish accent. It was true, Finn was the only one who hadn't had a drink that wasn't water or juice that evening; apparently he didn't touch alcohol in the couple of days leading to a game.

Finn shook his head with a wry smile, "I think alcohol might have actually improved my game." Peter just grinned at him before bending down and sinking another striped ball, leaving just the black eight ball for him and Judy to pot.

Rachel ran a quick gaze around the room and was unable to spot what, or rather whom, she was looking for. "Where's Quinn?" she asked, her hand reaching into the pocket of her hoodie to run over the small box she had in there.

"By the pool," Judy answered. "She said she wanted to look at something and off she went. I wish she'd taken her jumper with her. It's a bit cold out tonight."

"I'll take it to her," Rachel offered, collecting the blue Nike hoodie up from the stool Quinn had left it on and making her way to the outdoor entertaining area.

It took the brunette a moment to adjust to the darkness outside when she stepped past the open timber door, and a further few seconds to catch sight of Quinn reclining in one of the deck chairs. The blonde had her head tilted back, staring at the sky, even as she held a glass of wine in her hand.

At first Rachel approached her slowly, so as not to startle her fellow tennis player, but a few steps in she realized it was probably better to make her presence known sooner rather than later. It still didn't stop Quinn from doing a small jump in her seat when Rachel said her name. "What are you doing out here?" Rachel asked, moving closer to where the blonde was sat.

Quinn stared up at her, and even in the relative darkness Rachel could spot the sheepish look on her face. "The International Space Station is going to fly over at six minutes past eight. It's a clear night, so visibility should be good."

Rachel couldn't help but smile fondly as she asked, "And how do you know this?" She passed the hoodie to the blonde, who accepted it gratefully, before sitting down in the deck chair next to Quinn's.

"I receive alerts on my phone," Quinn answered simply, placing her wine glass on the ground beside her and slipping the hoodie over her head. "Thanks for bringing this out."

"No problem," Rachel replied, also leaning back to stare at the sky. "So, which way are we looking?"

"It's meant to appear from the north-northwest, which is about there," Quinn replied, pointing towards a spot in the sky, "and disappear approximately east-southeast. It should be visible for about three minutes."

Rachel glanced at her wristwatch. "Eight-oh-six, did you say?" Quinn nodded. "That's under thirty seconds away. Is the space station usually on time?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, looking skywards again. "I don't think the astronauts on board have to face the same traffic issues we do," she joked, before narrowing her eyes. "I think I see- yup, that's definitely it."

Rachel followed her gaze to where, sure enough, what seemed like a quickly moving bright star had come into view. "Wow," Rachel breathed out, in awe of what she was looking at.

Quinn turned her head to shoot the brunette a quick look. "Is this your first time seeing it?"

"Mm hmm," Rachel nodded. I didn't even know you could see it from earth."

The pair fell silent, watching the ISS make its trajectory across the sky. "Pretty cool, isn't it? To think there's people on there," Quinn said.

"Definitely," Rachel agreed.

"I have my notifications set so I get alerts about the ISS even when I'm not here in Miami. So I've seen it from quite a few different places across the globe," Quinn said. "Apparently the light we're seeing is sunrays reflecting off the ISS. That's why it shines so bright, like a star."

Rachel laughed, turned her head to look at the blonde. "I love how nerdy you are sometimes." Quinn turned red at her words, and Rachel quickly jumped to make sure her friend knew it was a compliment. "It's a good thing, I swear. You're just, so not the stereotypical dumb jock."

"Thanks, I think?" Quinn said with a roll of her eyes. "Although I'll have you know that tennis players are actually a very smart breed. Asami has a higher IQ than Einstein, Kitty speaks five languages fluently and Dani is a classically trained pianist, just to name a few off the top of my head."

"Touché," Rachel acknowledged, before looking back at the ISS as it started to disappear from view. When it was gone she looked back at her friend, only to realize Quinn was already watching her. "You'll have to tell me how to get those alerts on my phone too."

Quinn nodded. "Ready to go back inside?" she asked, starting to lean to her side to pick up her wineglass.

"No, wait!" Rachel said, also leaning forward and swinging her legs over the deck chair. Quinn frowned in confusion but did as she was asked, mimicking Rachel by planting her feet on the tiled ground so the two women were now facing one another. Rachel reached into the kangaroo pouch at the front of her hoodie and pulled out the small box in there. "I got you a birthday present," she explained, handing over the giftwrapped box.

The line between Quinn's brows disappeared as she took the gift from Rachel's hands. "Can I open it now?" she asked, and pulled at the ribbon to undo the bow around the box when Rachel nodded.

The brunette watched anxiously as Quinn ripped the giftwrap apart to reveal the square velvet jewelry box inside. She received a curious glance from the birthday girl, who tossed the wrapping and ribbon beside her before she unclasped the lid and opened the box. A wave of relief coursed through Rachel when Quinn let out a happy gasp upon seeing its contents.

"Rachel!" Quinn said, staring down at the delicate white gold chain and pendant. "You shouldn't have!"

"Do you like it?" Rachel asked hopefully, even though the answer was already evident.

"Do I like it? I love it!" Quinn grinned, pulling the necklace free from its housing and staring at it in fascination. "I mean, it's the Deathly Hallows! But really, you shouldn't have," she said sincerely.

Rachel let out a little grunt and have a little wave of the hand. "It's no big deal. I saw it in the window of a jewelry store in Brooklyn and thought it was the perfect present for a Potter nut like yourself."

"It is a big deal," Quinn countered. "Thank you." She unclasped the necklace and put it around her neck. "Would you mind fastening it for me?" she requested, leaning forward and bending her head slightly.

"Sure," Rachel said, letting out an unsteady breath as she took the ends of the necklace from Quinn's fingers. Again the scent of strawberries hit her nose as she stared down at the back of the blonde's neck, and it took her slightly longer than it should have to complete the simple task. "Done," she said, letting the chain drop against Quinn's neck as she backed away.

The blonde gave the necklace a little tug as she too leaned back, before smiling and reaching out to take Rachel's hand. "It really is a thoughtful present."

All of Rachel's senses seemed to zone in on the feel of the deceptively soft hands grasping her own. "I checked with Santana before I bought it. Just to, you know, make sure you didn't already have one," she rambled. "You could also take the pendant off and use it as a charm on a charm bracelet, if you have one."

Quinn didn't say anything but responded with a bob of her head and a squeeze of Rachel's hands. A silence fell between them, one that felt heavy with expectation. Rachel stared back at hazel eyes that seemed to search her own and her heartbeat picked up to such a fast pace that she was sure Quinn had to be able to hear it. Time slowed, and as it did the nervous teenager's resolve grew stronger.

"Quinn," she whispered in a voice that she barely recognized as her own. "I'm going to do something now, but you can stop me if you like, ok?"

The blonde's eyes took on a determined sheen of their own. "Ok."

Rachel started to lean forward, the butterflies now doing the tango in her stomach. She could feel the perspiration staring to build on her palms and wondered if Quinn could feel the sweat there too. If she could, the blonde was hiding it well. She kept her eyes on Rachel's as brown moved closer and closer to hazel. With mere centimeters between them Rachel darted out her tongue to wet her dry lips. The action caught Quinn's attention, and she briefly glanced down at said lips before meeting Rachel's eyes again.

The brunette paused inches from Quinn's face. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked, checking one last time before she committed to an action she could never undo.

Instead of answering her Quinn let go of one of her hands and brought her now free hand to cup the younger woman's cheek. With a slight tug she pulled Rachel's face forward the remaining distance, and brought their lips together.

Rachel had heard the clichés about life altering first kisses that led to ringing bells, singing angels and the sound of a thousand violins playing in perfect harmony in your head, but this kiss didn't make so much as a peep in the brunette's head. Instead, everything else seemed to fade into the background so all Rachel really knew was the pressure of soft lips against her own. Her eyes fluttered shut as she relished the feeling. The kiss was gentle, innocent even. Just lips against lips, unmoving, unyielding. But it lit a wild fire inside the New Yorker.

Letting out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding through her nose, Rachel pulled back slightly before surging forward again, this kiss just as chaste as the last one. Quinn's hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her neck, her fingers leaving a fiery touch on the skin there.

It was the blonde who changed the dynamics of the kiss when she parted her lips to lightly suck on Rachel's bottom lip. The move caused Rachel to let out a low moan that sounded so foreign to her ears that even she was surprised the sound had come from her. She could feel Quinn smile at the reaction she had elicited, the blonde nipping her bottom lip before turning her attention to the one on top.

When breathing through her nose became too hard Rachel pulled back slightly, still clutching one of Quinn's hands for dear life. The two women regarded one another, Rachel melting at the almost shy look she received from the blonde. Then it was her turn to blush when the World No. 1 reverently tucked a strand of dark hair behind her own ear and left her hand there to run soft circles over her cheek with her thumb.

"As much as I love the necklace," Quinn husked out, "I have to say it's only my second favourite present today."

Rachel smiled bashfully, but didn't take her eyes from the other woman's. "Not to sound selfish, but I hope I'm the only one getting return presents at this party."

Quinn let out a chuckle and began to move forward to reclaim Rachel's lips when someone cleared their throat to alert the pair to their presence. The brunette jumped back as if burned, putting some distance between herself and Quinn. Her heart sank at the wounded look Quinn gave her before she turned to look at the newcomer.

"Sorry to interrupt," Francine said, and her tone indicated that she really meant it, "but I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. Can't miss my flight, you know" she half-laughed, probably in an attempt to lighten the suddenly tense mood. It didn't work. "Uh, Mom and Peter are dropping me to the airport, so they'll be leaving too. So, uh, yeah, that's what I came to say. I'll just go back inside now..." she finished, turning on her heel and scurrying away.

There was silence again as Quinn and Rachel turned to one another. "Quinn-" Rachel started, an apology on her lips, but it was cut short by her host.

"I really like you Rachel," Quinn said, and the brunette's heart gave an optimistic leap. "I have for a while. And I'm pretty sure you like me too. But," and this is where a feeling of dread replaced the optimism, "it's not as simple as that, given the lives we lead."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, wanting to reach out and take Quinn's hand again but believing the gesture would be unwelcome right now.

"I mean we lead public lives, so if we dated it couldn't be a hush-hush affair," Quinn stated. "I wouldn't want it to be a hush-hush affair. Would you?"

Rachel was at a loss for words. She hadn't actually thought that far ahead. She'd been so caught up wondering if her feelings for Quinn were reciprocated that she hadn't though about how she would approach an actual relationship with the other woman.

The brunette had seen the extra scrutiny Santana and Brittany had faced from fans and the media alike when they'd gone public with their relationship, and this was despite knowing beforehand that the Latina was a lesbian. The media circus if she and Quinn were to come out as a couple would be at least twice as crazy. Despite what Rachel has said at the conference in Moscow, she wasn't sure if she was strong enough, and brave enough, to stand in front of the world and be proud to be different.

She didn't have an answer for Quinn, but she did have a question of her own. "Would you be ok with telling the world you're gay?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm not big on labels but, yeah, I wouldn't hide my partner like she was something to be ashamed of. I don't want a relationship where I'll constantly be looking over my shoulder and sneaking in to places through back entrances. And I need to respect myself enough to not be someone else's dirty secret either."

Rachel sat there digesting her words. She honestly didn't know what to say. Again, it was Quinn who reached out and took her hand. "I'm not going to push you to do anything you don't want to do, Rach. But at the same time I need to protect myself. I've had a, well, a pretty crazy year already-"

"That's an understatement," Rachel muttered.

Quinn acknowledged the truth of her words with a tilt of the head. "And I don't want to make it any messier. I really enjoyed kissing you- God, I've wanted to kiss you for so long now... And I would love to do it again, but only if you and I are on the same page. If not, well, you're my friend, and you always will be. That won't change. And I promise I won't judge you if you decide a public relationship with a girl isn't for you. But I also can't fall for you any more than I already have knowing that we're on different wavelengths and that whatever we might have will come with an expiry date."

"How are you so rational about this?" Rachel asked. Her own mind was a whirl of confusion.

"I've had some time to think about it," Quinn shrugged with a soft smile. "I've had an insane crush on you for a few months now, and I suspected you might feel the same. I might have done some serious thinking in that time, with Guru Santana offering her counsel too."

Rachel wasn't surprised that Santana knew. A part of her wondered if Brittany knew too. "If you've liked me for so long, why did you never approach me?"

"Because I got the impression you were figuring things out, and that's something a person needs to do on their own. I held onto the hope that you'd let your feelings be known when you knew exactly what they were," Quinn replied. "I did try and drop little hints though, in the hope that you read them right. And given that you kissed me tonight, I'd say a few of them hit home."

Rachel bobbed her head. It was true; Quinn was the one that initiated most of the physical contact between them, she had been the one to ask Rachel to accompany her to museums and galleries, she sent texts with flirtatious undercurrents.

"It seems to me like you aren't completely done figuring this, us, out though," Quinn said, not sounding the slightest bit angry. "And I won't rush you into making a decision. So take your time, and we'll talk when you're ready. Ok?"

Rachel nodded her head, and received a squeeze of the hand before Quinn let go and stood up. "Now how about we go inside and bid adieu to my mother and sister? After all, we only see them again tomorrow," the blonde said with a roll of her eyes. "How ever will I survive that long?"

Rachel got to her feet and followed her fellow tennis player back inside the house. She felt drained from the roller coaster of emotions she'd just sat through. From the high of feeling Quinn's lips against her own to the uncertain state she was currently in, Rachel knew she had a lot to think about.

The question was, what was she going to do?