A/N- Raise your hand if you've been personally neglected by the author of this story. If you've seen Mean Girls I hope you got that reference, if not you need to watch that movie. I'm sorry this one took a bit longer than expected but as requested, it is shorter which I think works better. Thank you to my beautiful Beta for reading all of this and editing it in one night because she's freaking awesome.
Hopefully you will all enjoy this chapter and leave a review letting me know what you thought!
The next morning, Quinn got a full picture of how bad Rachel's flu was. The normally early rising diva slept straight through her alarm and hardly released a low moan when Quinn tried to rouse her for breakfast.
"Rachel?" The blonde tried again, gently shaking her shoulder. When Rachel stubbornly buried her face beneath a pillow Quinn decided to get creative, "Rachel the TV caught on fire and your Barbra collection is going up in flames."
At that the brunette shot up, her hair was wild and her eyes were wide, "Not Barbra!" She was congested and the words came out in a muffled jumble.
Quinn began cracking up and ducked as a pillow was thrown her way.
"You don't joke about Barbra!" Rachel scolded. The look that she was giving Quinn would normally intimidate the blonde, but the congestion coupled with her bed head only made Quinn laugh more.
"Sorry, it just seemed to be the only way to get you up since breakfast didn't do the trick."
Rachel looked visibly queasy at the mention of food, "I don't think it's a good idea for me to eat anything right now."
Quinn frowned slightly, she sat on the bed next to the brunette and placed the back of her hand on the smaller girl's forehead, "You still have a fever."
"I feel like crap." Rachel whined.
"It's ok, baby." Quinn pulled the brunette into her arms and lightly stroked her hair, "Movie day?"
"Can we watch musicals?" Rachel asked hopefully, giving Quinn her best puppy dog eyes.
The blonde heaved a dramatic sigh, "We can take turns picking."
"Deal."
Quinn gave the diva a tight squeeze and kissed the top of her head, "But before that happens, I have to run to the store and pick up some supplies."
"Don't leave me here!" Rachel pulled a pathetic face, "I'm dying."
The blonde was already standing at the doorway of their bedroom, "You're not dying, trust me. And I just have to grab a couple of things, I'll be back before you know it." She promised, "Love you."
"Love you too." Rachel drawled and flopped back down on the bed once Quinn was out of sight.
"Well, Rachel is officially sick. She's probably not going to be able to do the show tonight." Quinn said. She had one hand holding her phone to the ear and the other holding a plastic shopping basket.
Santana laughed on the other end of the line, "You're going to have to handcuff her to the bed to keep her from the theater." Quinn rolled her eyes, selecting a large bottle of Ginger Ale from the shelf and adding it to her basket, "Of course that's probably nothing new for you and Berry."
Even though nobody else in the store could hear her friend, Quinn blushed deep red and bit out in a hushed tone, "Santana!"
"Yes, Quinn?" Her friend replied innocently.
"Was there a real reason you called me or did you just want to make fun of me?" Quinn mumbled heading for the pharmacy.
"I'm always trying to make fun of you my dear Quinnie, but I really did have something to talk to you about." Quinn could hear her huff a deep breath on the other end of the line, clearly trying to gather her thoughts, "Remember what Britt was talking about the other day? At the airport?"
The blonde laughed lightly, "Yes, I do remember."
"Do you think she was serious?"
The question made Quinn literally stop dead, resulting in an elderly woman behind her in the aisle accidentally crashing her cart into her back. After giving her a small apologetic smile, the blonde answered, "Well, I'm no expert but I'd say yes, she was serious."
"What the hell am I supposed to do!?"
Quinn rolled her eyes, dropping a few boxes of pills into her basket, "Grow a pair, Lopez! Date her, marry her, have children, live happily ever after."
"Ok, but here's the deal. Up until I met Britt, I never planned on doing the first one of those with anyone for over two weeks."
As horrible as it sounded, that statement was true. Before Santana dated Brittany, she had never stayed with one girl for more than two weeks. There was one girl, right after she moved in with Quinn and the blonde though that the two were destined to be. Like clockwork though, when their relationship hit fourteen days Santana broke it off.
That evening Quinn woke up to the sound of wet thumps against their window. At first she thought it was hailing, but then she heard Santana cursing in rapid Spanish and she shot out of bed.
"What the hell is that, Santana?"
"That, my dear roommate, would be eggs."
The blonde swung out of bed and padded over to where Santana stood in front of the window, "What do you mean 'eggs'?"
"See for yourself." The Latina stood to the side as another egg hit the window, exploding in a yellow, gooey mess.
"You have got to be freakin kidding me." The blonde muttered to herself. There seemed to be a pause in the barrage of poultry so Quinn opened the window and easily spied the girl on the street with a carton in her hand. Enraged at the yolk sliding down the window, she yelled out into the night, "What the hell is your problem!? You're a grown woman, get over it! I don't care what Santana did, I have an interview in five hours and the last thing I need is to be kept up by some crazy bitch-"
Quinn's angry rant was cut short by an egg breaking against her forehead.
"I'm coming down there!" She all but screamed. Bringing her head back in the window, she turned to angrily storm down to the street but was stopped by Santana's laughter, "I hate you." she told her roommate as the egg dripped down her face, "I legitimately hate you right now. She's your problem, it should be you with egg on your head!" To emphasize her point, Quinn wiped some of the dripping yolk from her face and smeared it on Santana's cheek, "That's better."
"You aren't really going to go down there, are you?" the Latina asked, laughing as the sticky egg began drying on her face.
"No. I just wanted to scare her off."
Looking out the window, Santana's smile only grew, "I think it did the trick."
"Good. I'm taking a shower. You're cleaning the window tomorrow."
"Fine." The brunette relented.
"I hate your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Good."
Quinn got in the checkout line, "So clearly Brittany's special. I mean you've been dating for what, three months by now? Just embrace the inevitable- she's your person. You're going to grow old and have disgustingly adorable, dancing, Spanish speaking, ass kicking children together."
The man in front of her in the line shot her a strange look and she just rolled her eyes.
"I don't do kids. I don't do commitment. This is insane!"
"Deep breath drama queen, everything will be fine." She knew her friend was just having a miniature freak out, it was nothing new and each time it happened, it reminded her that the brunette was emotional deep down.
"But how do you know? How do you know everything will turn out alright?" The question was so innocent and probably the most honest thing Quinn had heard her ask in a while.
She smiled politely at the teenager working the checkout as he began swiping her purchases, "Santana, this feeling you have, this uncertainty. That's you caring. When you care about someone as much as you care about Brittany you're bound to be uncertain. You just need to take that leap and trust that it's going to be ok. The Santana I know isn't afraid of anything, not even commitment."
"Thanks, Q."
"Bye, Santana."
With that, she hung up and pulled out her wallet to pay for the supplies, "What's the damage?" she asked in a friendly tone once the boy finished ringing everything up.
He smiled and nodded at the little screen on the credit swipe pad in front of her, "Not too bad."
Once she swiped the card, his eyes widened, "Oh my goodness, you're Quinn Fabray!" He said excitedly, a wide smile splitting across his adolescent face.
"Guilty." As many times as she was recognized on the street, it never got any less weird for her, nor did the knowledge that other people held about her private life.
"Is Rachel sick?" he asked suddenly concerned given what she had bought.
"Unfortunately, yes. She's got the flu."
"Poor thing," he sympathized while bagging her purchases. "My boyfriend just got us tickets to the show next Friday."
Quinn smiled, "That's great, Friday night shows are always the best." She said conspiratorially, grabbing her bags. She was about to leave when he suddenly grabbed his phone.
"Oh would you mind? My boyfriend would kill me if I told him I met the Quinn Fabray and didn't get a picture."
The blonde laughed and blushed lightly, "Sure." she said a little embarrassed as he came around the register to stand beside her.
"Thank you!"
An hour later and Rachel was huddled on the couch wrapped in a large comforter from her bed while 'Pretty in Pink' played on the TV. Quinn was in the kitchen making her some tea. She had already given the girl Ginger Ale and a hefty dose of flu medicine.
Once the tea was finished, Quinn joined the brunette on the couch leaning against the armrest. Before she knew it, she found herself covered in Rachel, the blanket and all.
"Do I really have to miss the show tonight?" Rachel was still heavily congested which made her voice higher than normal and that combined with the puppy dog eyes she was pulling made Quinn feel like she was punishing a young child.
In response she pressed her lips to the brunette's forehead. She could feel the sickly heat coming off her girl, "I'm afraid so, babe. Drink some tea."
Rachel complied, taking a few small sips, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."
"It's my pleasure." She combed her fingers through the brunette's hair and received an appreciative moan in response, "I'm still trying to figure out how to make you vegan chicken noodle soup."
They stayed like that for the better part of the day exhausting Rachel's Netflix account by watching movies. After they finished the first one, Quinn made Rachel call in and officially tell Cassandra that she wasn't going to be well enough to perform.
When she did so, Cassandra yelled something intelligible on the other end of the line and hung up with a, "You better be better for the day after tomorrow, Berry. And don't even think about skipping judging that dance competition, the show needs the publicity."
A few minutes later, Quinn got a phone call from Tina. It was a brief call and in the beginning she could hear the blonde director still complaining loudly of her leads 'flandering about in the cold weather'. In the end, Tina insisted that Quinn take the night off and take care of Rachel.
They ended up spending the night on the couch, there were kleenex strewn about the floor where Rachel had missed the trash can, cans of Ginger Ale and Gatorade empty on the table, the brunette was laying mainly on top of Quinn keeping her warm. Quinn had always been good about flu shots and taking vitamins so she wasn't concerned with getting sick, and even if she was she wouldn't protest to the exposure.
When their final movie of the night ended, Quinn shut off the television and snuggled tighter into Rachel. She breathed in the smell of her shampoo, memorizing every second, "I love you." she whispered into the brunette's hair.
She thought Rachel was asleep so she was surprised when the diva replied in her groggy congested voice, "I love you too."
"This is insane!" Santana complained for the dozenth time since they'd arrived at the theater that morning.
Quinn rolled her eyes in response for the dozenth time as well, "Suck it up, Satan."
"Wow, you haven't used that one in a while." The Latina commented, sucking the whipped cream from the top of her frappe through her straw.
"You haven't been this obnoxious in a while."
Rachel and Brittany were busy shuffling papers and pens across a table before them as they sorted through numerous envelopes trying to get everything in order for the impending dance competition.
"I just mean it's a bit insane. The only real day off our girls have until Christmas and we're sitting here in the theater while a bunch of children in tutus prance about." Santana said, flailing her straw about wildly- little bits of whipped cream flying off the end, "Rachel can't even talk because she's saving her voice for the show tomorrow. Why are we even here?"
Quinn and Santana were sitting in the back of the auditorium, currently hiding from their girlfriends. Earlier they had been roped into handing out programs but now they were slumped down with their feet propped up on the chairs before them. They were both turned towards each other, Quinn with her eyes following Rachel's busy preparations.
The brunette absolutely loved things like this.
Santana was dutifully playing with the whipped topping of her coffee.
"We are here, my dear Santana, because we support our girlfriends." Quinn said, taking a sip of her own drink.
After a moment the Latina threw in her own explanation, "And cause we're hella whipped."
"Yeah that too." the blonde conceded.
At that time, Kurt raced past the two of them with a harried expression on his face. He reached the front of the theater and had a conversation with Rachel and Brittany. His hands were flying wildly and Rachel's face grew more and more concerned by the second, Quinn could tell from all the way in the back of the theater how much she wanted to chime in but was restraining herself.
Brittany threw her head back and laughed, then pointed directly at where Quinn and Santana were trying to hide. Kurt spotted them and charged off in their direction. When he reached them, he stood with his hands on his hips, two bright pink shirts clutched in one hand. Quinn was used to his dramatic antics from working with him on Wicked, but Santana wasn't.
She just sat there with an amused look on her face, "Can we help you?"
He huffed, "Yes, as a matter of fact you can! There's a bunch of people in the lobby trying to figure out where to go and what's going on. We need helpers." He tossed the shirts at the girls, "Just go stand in the front and don't let people get lost. The first dance goes on at nine."
With that he stomped back out the doors.
Santana held her shirt in front of her and made a noise, "Do we really have to wear these?"
"Just put it on." Quinn said, slipping hers on over her head on top of the shirt she was already wearing. Santana did the same with a begrudging look on her face.
They spent the next half hour with Quinn answering questions, directing dance moms, and solving any number of issues while Santana sat on a stool near the door sipping her coffee, handing out programs, and generally avoiding doing any real work.
When finally the opening bars of the first routine played, they went back into the theater and sat down at the two empty chairs between their girlfriends at the judging table. Aside from Rachel and Brittany, Mike was judging as well as two other professional dancers.
As soon as Quinn took her seat, Rachel beamed at her and melted into her side. The blonde scooted her chair as close as she could to Rachel's and put an arm around the back of it.
The first number drew to a close with the judges scribbling hurriedly on their ballots, "Maybe this won't be too bad." Santana said with her feet propped up on the judging table next to Brittany, "How many of these dancey things are there?"
"About a hundred and twenty." Brittany smiled.
"I'm sorry what?"
"It's dances all the way until lunch where we get a short break and then Mike and I are teaching a workshop and then more dances before the awards ceremony." the taller blonde listed off.
"Oh, joy."
The four of them sat through a number more dances, some good, some bad, some outright horrible. Eventually, Quinn and Santana decided to go out and get food for their short lunch break. Rachel giving her blonde a jealous look and a sweet kiss goodbye.
Halfway to the cafe they had decided to pick up lunch from, Quinn dropped a nonchalant comment that dropped her friend's jaw and made her stop dead in the road.
"Q! You did not just say that to me!"
The blonde laughed, and nudged the Latina to get them walking again, "It's not the end of the world, Santana."
"I can't believe you've gone over to the dark side."
"The dark side?"
"Yes! The dark side, Quinn. The dark side full of commitment and heart break and happy ever after and nightmares!"
"I can't believe you are blowing all of this out of proportion. All I said was that I'm thinking about asking Rachel to marry me. Marriage isn't the dark side." Quinn tried to justify herself.
"Why on earth would you ask that hobbit to marry you?"
At that, it was Quinn's turn to glare, "Don't call the woman I love a hobbit. Think about it Santana. Every big milestone in our relationship was instigated by Rachel. She asked me on our first date, she asked me to move in, she said 'I love you' first."
The brunette thought for a moment, "Yeah, I'm surprised. Berry has bigger balls than you."
"She does not!"
"Mhm, sure."
"But she doesn't!" Quinn called after her friend who skipped happily into the cafe.
"Then you better get on ring shopping, because a little birdy was asking me if you like princess cut diamonds."
The brunette smirked at Quinn's surprised face, but busied herself ordering food for Brittany before she could be interrogated by her friend. That distraction didn't last long as Quinn spent the rest of the walk back to the theater throwing question after question at Santana about Rachel's plans - Has she bought a ring? Does she have a proposal planned already? How many people has she told? When is she going to do it?
The answers she got back were vague and shoddy at best and she returned to the theater even more in the dark than she had been when they left.
Quinn spent most of the dance competition trying her very best to distract Rachel and being extremely entertained by the brunette's struggle to remain professional and focus on the dancing. They got a break about twenty dances after lunch when Brittany and Mike took to the stage to teach a workshop.
In the beginning Quinn and Rachel stayed in their seats, enjoying watching their friends in their element. But the blonde was distracted by thoughts of what Santana had let slip. She had one arm around Rachel's shoulders, playing idly with her hair while the brunette's head was resting against her.
She nearly jumped half out of her seat when one of Rachel's small hands landed on her thigh. Quinn looked down to give her girlfriend a questioning glance, but she was staring straight ahead with a slight smirk on her face as the hand began sneaking upward, tracing vague patterns on the top of her thigh.
This continued for a few minutes with Quinn squirming more and more as time passed. Subtly, Rachel turned and began lightly trailing kisses up her girlfriend's neck. Quinn nearly choked on her breath when Rachel nipped her below the jaw, soothing it over with her tongue.
"Rach, what are you doing?" She roughly whispered, fixing the girl with an accusatory stare.
Feigning innocence, Rachel finally broke her vow of not speaking all day, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Really? Because I think those girls in the third row might have a different opinion on that." Quinn sniggered when Rachel shot upright in her seat and her head snapped around to look at the people the blonde was referring to. There were indeed a few teenaged girls sitting in the third row but they were all focused on the stage up front. Rachel, however, didn't know that.
"You know, I think I may have left my dressing room unlocked." Rachel said a little too forcibly as she stood up, grabbing Quinn's hand with hers, "Come check it with me?"
"Love to." Quinn was practically dragged from her seat by Rachel and pulled out of the main part of the theater while Santana gave them an amused smile.
They only made it down the back stairway and partially down the hall to where Rachel's dressing room was located before the brunette had Quinn cornered against the wall and her lips reattached to their previous spot below the taller girl's jaw where she was intent on leaving a mark. Quinn's hands got lost in the singer's hair while Rachel's were steadfastly attached to her hips.
Sneakily, Rachel tried to slip her fingers beneath the hem of her girlfriend's shirt but groaned in frustration when she was met with another layer of material.
"How many shirts are you wearing?" She complained.
"Just the two, you have Kurt to thank for that."
A voice echoed down the hallway, "Do I even want to know why I just heard my name?"
Rachel removed her lips from Quinn's skin but, recognizing the voice, she kept her hands firmly in place, "What do you want Kurt?"
"She speaks!" He smirked, "I knew you couldn't last a whole day going mute, though the fact that you made it until the afternoon is surprising. There's some sort of an issue with your ballots, you've got to go back up and sort it out before the next wave of dances."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm afraid not." Kurt was already retreating down the hallway, no trace of sympathy on his face. Rachel huffed her annoyance but rocked forward to give Quinn a proper kiss before she had to leave, "Stop making out with your girlfriend, and hurry up. You're going to get her sick too." He playfully yelled over his shoulder when the singer made no move to leave Quinn and follow him.
The rest of the competition went relatively quickly with only a few sets of dances going on after the workshop before awards. In the original plans, Rachel was supposed to emcee for the awards, but given her current state she absolutely refused. Instead she roped Quinn into doing it.
That's why at 10:00 that evening Quinn was standing on the front of the stage with all the girls seated by studio behind her while some loud obnoxious pop music played over the stereo. Santana was throwing t-shirts and free trinkets into the sea of tutus and high buns while Quinn tried to figure out the scoring system for dance competitions. Rachel was beside her trying to explain it a third time.
"So does anyone ever score below silver?"
"No, not really. I mean getting a gold is sort of bad so normally scores don't drop below there."
"And which is higher, a platinum or a high gold?"
Rachel rolled her eyes as though it was obvious, "A platinum."
"But high gold has high in the title."
"That doesn't make it better!"
"Why?"
"Just read the paper and you'll be fine."
Quinn finally gave in and reviewed the paper that had all the results. The music quieted down and one of the tech people in the wings gave Quinn the thumbs up that she was on instead.
"Hello and welcome to the awards ceremony of the third annual 'Artistic Fusion' dance competition!" She tried to sound as energetic as possible, but it was difficult when all she could think about was Santana smirking at her from the judges table and the bright red mark beneath her jaw that the whole audience must be able to see.
Awards didn't take too long and Rachel remained on the stage the whole time delivering trophies and plaques to winning teams. Quinn was entertaining herself adding in additional commentary under her breath as she read off the names of winning studios and dances (The Pointe Dance studio, that's creative).
Eventually the whole thing wound to a close and Rachel and Brittany were relieved of their judging duties and were able to leave. The four girls parted ways at the entrance of the theater and Quinn and Rachel opted to walk back to their apartment. A couple of blocks down from the theater, Rachel paused, the hand holding Quinn's caused the blonde to stop as well.
"What is it, Rach?"
"Do you remember that night I called you when I was totally trashed?"
A smile played at the corner of Quinn's lips when she recalled the events of that night all those months ago, "Of course."
Rachel grabbed Quinn's other hand so she was holding them both between them, "This is the street corner where I drunkenly tackled you."
The blonde looked around, recognizing the neon signs of the restaurant across the road, "I can't believe you remember this place!"
"We've come a long way since then."
Quinn's heart began to race, "We have." She agreed.
Rachel leant forward and placed a soft kiss to Quinn's lips before dropping down to one knee, "I have something I've been meaning to ask you." The blonde started to panic, this couldn't be happening. Not this soon, not after her conversation with Santana at lunch, "Would you," Quinn's breath caught in her throat as she awaited the inevitable question, "want to order Chinese for dinner tonight?"
"Excuse me?" Quinn asked in a rush of relieved and confused exhale.
"I've been craving it all day." Rachel explained tucking the laces back into the top of her boot from where they'd escaped when the two were walking.
As Rachel popped up and grabbed one of Quinn's hands again, the blonde let a smile grace her features again. Of course Rachel wouldn't propose on a street corner like that, "I would love to."
A/N- Good, bad, or indifferent, let me know how this chapter went over and happy late Fourth of July to all of you readers in the great US of A.