Rachel stood at the door of the Fabray house. She bit her lip. Her hand wanted to knock, to rap her knuckles on the varnished wood, but her muscles weren't working to respond. Her arms were held limp at her sides. She felt tiny compared to the door.
She wasn't supposed to be there so early. They hadn't even decided on a venue for their date, but here she was. Quinn had been kicked out of school defending them and Rachel could not help but want to be there for the girl, as much as Quinn probably wanted to be left alone at the moment. She wondered whether Quinn had even told her mother yet; Rachel knew that if it were her, she wouldn't want to say a thing. She'd be too terrified of confessing to her fathers that she'd been kicked out of school. It would be like seeing all their hopes and dreams for her dying right before their eyes; no New York school would take someone kicked out of high school, even if it were for a just reason.
Taking a deep breath, she brought her hand up to the door. With one sharp movement, she let her hand knock on the wood, then again, just for good measure. Straining her ears, she could hear movement one the other side of the door. There was a scuffle and a muted crash, followed by what Rachel was sure was a curse, before the door opened to reveal Quinn standing there, leaning all her weight on one foot.
"Hey."
"Hi. Are you ok? I heard a crash," Rachel enquired, letting worry settle in her question. Quinn gave a small shrug.
"I walked into the stupid umbrella stand. I'll be fine. Come in."
"You're limping!" cried Rachel as she walked into the house. Quinn hobbled, trying not to put pressure onto her injured foot. She waved Rachel off, making her way into the living room, where she collapsed onto the sofa.
"I'm fine. It'll go away in a little while," Quinn assured. But Rachel was having none of it. Taking a nearby chair, she placed it in front of the other girl, ordering her to place her injured foot on it. She then hurried to the kitchen, making several wrong turns in the process. She rummaged around to find a plastic bag - it wasn't quite what she was after but it would do - and put ice into it. She returned it to Quinn who had done what she had been ordered.
"Put it on your foot. It'll help the swelling go down. Do you need anything? I'll get it for you, just stay put. You're not allowed to move until your foot gets better," Rachel commanded, looking at the pink haired girl, who was grinning at her.
"How about a kiss?" she asked sweetly, the mischievous smile curving her lips. Rachel, happy to oblige, even if she resented the cheesiness of it all, bent down and caught those lips in a kiss, feeling the soft skin meld into the shape of her own. A tongue ran its tip over Rachel's lips and she parted her mouth, allowing it entrance. Within seconds, she was desperate for more; she ran a hand along the side of Quinn's body, from her hip up her side, then lifted it to tangle her fingers in the pink hair. They tightened as Quinn's lips left hers and instead found her neck, placing soft kisses on the sensitive flesh. They triggered a shiver down Rachel's spine and she let a little moan escape her voice box. The sound brought her back to reality. She couldn't go too far, not there on the couch, not with Quinn hurt. She pulled away, a light layer of perspiration already having begun to form on the back of her neck and lower back.
"There," Rachel said, as though she had planned for it to go like that all along, "now, we sit until your foot gets better. If you can walk on it in half an hour, we can go on our date. If not, we're going to the hospital."
"I'm fine. I promise," Quinn assured, but Rachel would hear none of it.
"No, if you still can't walk on it, the hospital it is. You might have sprained it or fractured it, or god knows what else. We're not taking chances."
Quinn rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. Rachel was Rachel, and concern was always going to be her default setting. Already, her foot hurt less. The ice was helping.
"You're good with the injury thing," she commented to the brunette.
"Daddy was always clumsy. I learnt how to take care of minor injuries from a young age. Although, I suppose I didn't really need to tell you how to take care of yourself, considering your previous career as a cheerleader," Rachel said, realising that Quinn probably had more experience dealing with injuries on herself than she had. She blushed, feeling her cheeks turn red at the assumption she had made, that Quinn would need help with her foot. But Quinn was smiling at her.
"Being on the Cheerios taught me a lot of things, including how to deal with injury. But it's nice to have someone else fuss over it for once," she grinned and Rachel's heart did a flutter in her chest. She held her breath for a moment, willing it to stop; she couldn't think properly when her body was doing all sorts of strange things. She could barely think at all when Quinn's hazel eyes were trained on her. Luckily, they were now focused on the foot with a bag of ice pressed onto it. Rachel watched the green eyes for any hints of pain, finding that there were none. Maybe Quinn wasn't lying when she said she was fine.
For the first time since entering the house, she looked around. Wood panelled walls enclosed them, and the area was lit by slivers of light coming through the blinds, aided by the incandescent glow from the dim light fixtures on the wall. The couch they were sitting on was elegant, but old; for all its richness, Rachel could see patches where the colour had started to leech out of the fabric, and where the fibres had started to become loose. The Fabrays had expensive taste, she realised, but not for anything modern. The more she observed, the more Rachel felt as though she had walked into a house from a hundred years ago. Everything was old, but most of it was in immaculate condition.
The furniture she could see from her position on the couch was all dark wood, varnished and polished so it would shine. Rachel was certain that if she were to run a finger along any surface in the house, she would find no dust. She was also certain that these pieces of furniture were the best the Fabrays could find in that style; she had no doubt that anything with an imperfection would have immediately been passed over and forgotten.
It surprised her that this was the first time she had visited the Fabray house. Even when she and Quinn had attempted to write a song together the year before, Quinn had always come to her house, or they had collaborated at school. The then-blonde girl had never offered her house as a place to work, and Rachel had never asked; she had been happy doing everything at her own - she was more comfortable there, especially as she and Quinn had had their spots of trouble over the years. The Berry household had been not only more comfortable, but also more convenient, as it was closer to McKinley. She'd never before stopped to wonder why Quinn had never invited anybody over, but the thought arose in her mind now.
"My father has…had…has expensive taste," Quinn said, breaking into Rachel's thoughts, and as she turned, she caught the other girl's hazel eyes watching her.
"Oh," Rachel nodded, at a loss for anything else to say.
"He always thought that pristine vintage furniture was the way to show off our wealth. Maybe it is. I don't know," Quinn shrugged, "It's probably some stupid idea he picked up from trying to sell houses. I like the furniture, but it becomes so oppressive sometimes. It reminds me too much of him. He's everywhere in here, even when he's not here. But we can't sell it. Mom won't, and even if she would, it would mean that we had to buy new furniture, and nothing else would suit this house. So we're stuck with it."
"You haven't forgiven him?"
"For what? Kicking me out of the house? Or cheating on mom? Or for trying to control us all, all the time?" Quinn shot back. Rachel was taken aback. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. So she closed it and looked down at her feet. It didn't sound so bad in words, but the emotion Quinn injected into the questions said more than enough.
She felt a hand on her arm, the light touch making her look up once more. She met the eyes of Quinn, only inches from her own brown ones and she swallowed. Their close proximity was almost terrifying; it took all of Rachel's self control not to lean in and kiss the other girl. Her eyes flickered away and she turned her head a little, but Quinn put her other hand on Rachel's chin and turned it back so that they were eye to eye again. She quickly leant in and her lips found Rachel's. She held them there for a minute, letting the emotion seep through to the other girl, and Rachel, knowing that there was something in that kiss apart from lust, held on, accepting it.
"Sorry. I'm sorry for…" Quinn finished with a hand gesture in the air to make up for the words she couldn't speak. She pressed her forehead against Rachel's, eyes closed. Rachel closed her own, letting herself feel the pressure of the other girl's head pressing into the forefront of her skull. Her arms wound around Quinn, pushing them closer together. She felt Quinn sigh against her, heard the rush of air from her lungs as it escaped into the room. Rachel placed a light kiss on the pink haired girl's nose, then drew back, pulling her arms from around the other girl. Her hip hurt; she'd had to twist into a strange position to hold the other girl, but it was worth it.
Instead, her fingers found Quinn's and slotted between them. Her head sunk onto the other girl's shoulder. She closed her eyes again, trying not to see visions of Russell Fabray in the room telling a sobbing and pregnant Quinn to leave the house, trying not to hear the man's enraged voice ordering Quinn to never return. Her imagination was trying to run away with her, but she wouldn't let it. Quinn had been hurt in this house, and now it was Rachel's turn to be strong for her. Besides, she didn't know how much worse her imagination was making the situation; for all she knew, the scene might not have gone like that at all.
They sat in that silence for a little while, unaware of the pendulous ticking of the grandfather clock from the next room. Finally, a kiss on the top of Rachel's head broke the stillness. She shifted to look at Quinn, who was smiling down at her.
"Has it been half an hour yet?" she asked, and Rachel let out a giggle. She moved and picked the bag of melted ice off the other girl's injured foot. It didn't look very bad. It had a bruise, but it looked no worse than that. Quinn wiggled her toes, sending Rachel into another fit of giggles, this time of surprise.
"Let's see if you can walk on it. And no heroics, Quinn Fabray. If you can't, we're staying right here."
"I thought we were going to the hospital," Quinn teased as she got up.
"It doesn't look very bad. Certainly not broken. There'd be much more swelling if it were," Rachel responded, watching Quinn as the girl's foot hit the floor. She didn't even wince. In fact, she walked the length of the room and back without hesitation. Rachel let out an inaudible sigh of relief; she had really hoped that it was nothing more than a bruise and there was nothing like the relief of knowing that the person you loved wasn't hurt. Well, badly. Quinn grinned at her.
"Tada! So, about that date," she laughed, "are we clear, doctor Berry, to go on it?"
"Not if you keep mocking me!"
"But I worked so hard to plan it!" Quinn mock gasped, eyes wide. Rachel narrowed her eyes at her.
"You were expelled from school less than three hours ago. What kind of date could you possibly have planned in less than three hours that you worked hard on? At this point, anything is hastily thrown together, not meticulously planned."
"We'll see," Quinn grinned, extending a hand to Rachel and pulling her along through the house, up the stairs and into a small bedroom. Rachel raised her eyebrows at the other girl, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but being unable to help it. Quinn let out another laugh when she saw the expression on her girlfriend's face, but didn't say anything, letting Rachel's mind run away with itself. It was more fun that way. Rummaging around in her wardrobe, she pulled out a worn black shirt and threw it at Rachel, who caught it in a tangle. "You're going to need something dark." Rachel's eyes widened further, but pulled the shirt over her white one nevertheless. She felt strange in Quinn's clothes; the shirt was too big, and hung off her small frame. But at the same time, she wanted to bury herself in it and never take it off. It smelt like the other girl and however she moved, the scent of her wafted up to Rachel's nose.
Looking her up and down, Quinn, who was already wearing her customary dark clothing, pronounced Rachel ready and pulled her back down the stairs and to her motorcycle. Rachel had no complaints this time about putting on the helmet and slotting herself on the seat behind Quinn. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around the other girl when the bike roared to life underneath them. She pressed her cheek into Quinn's back, relishing in the warmth. Rachel watched the world blur by as Quinn sped along the Lima streets, noticing that this time they were heading further into the heart of the city, not the outskirts like their last date. She felt a pang of curiosity, but kept her questions to herself. Quinn wouldn't hear her over the sound of the bike anyway.
They slowed in front of a decrepit building, with flaking paint and boarded up windows. At that point, Rachel almost lost hold of her resolve not to ask any questions, but bit her lip and held back the words which wanted to come spilling out of her mouth. The building looked stable, but abandoned, and for a second, Rachel wondered whether it was the illegal hideout of some sort of gang or drug lord, before realising that Quinn would never take her somewhere that dangerous. The growl of the motorcycle died as Quinn switched off the ignition, and helped Rachel take off her helmet and goggles. Once free of them, Rachel raised her eyebrows at the other girl, waiting for an explanation.
"You'll see," Quinn replied in cryptic response. Taking her hand in her own, she led Rachel toward the front entrance. Rachel's heart beat in terrified anticipation as the door swung open easily. She peered into the dark, not sure what to expect, not sure whether she really wanted to see what was inside. Her steps faltered as she reached the threshold, but Quinn tugged on her hand, spurring her forwards. She felt her eyes go wide as she stepped inside, trying to take in the discrepancy between the inside of the building and the outside. Where the façade was falling apart, the interior was lavish, with red carpet and wood panelled walls, small chandeliers and strategically placed tables. Along one side of the building, an assortment of arcade games stood, some with occupants, brows furrowed in concentration, others with invitingly empty seats. Quinn ignored them all, pulling Rachel along to the small reception desk. The man behind it smiled at them in greeting.
"They're waiting for you," he grinned, flashing yellowing teeth. Rachel suppressed a cringe, clenching her jaw and swallowing. Who were they? Quinn nodded and still holding Rachel by the hand, made her way to the back of the building, stopping before a closed door. She put her hand on the door knob, ready to turn it, but paused. She looked at Rachel who looked positively terrified and started to explain.
"Relax, Rachel. There's nothing to be scared of. Behind this door is a small lobby, beyond that is another room, and that's where I'm taking you. It's nothing to worry about. Actually, it's going to be fun. Have you ever played laser tag before?"
Rachel's jaw slackened. Laser tag? She was terrified of being in this abandoned looking building, and all it was was laser tag? She felt ridiculous. She shook her head. She had never played before. The nervousness within her chest eased and she felt lighter. Laser tag. That wasn't so bad. Quinn gave her a light kiss on the forehead, and opened the door. A small group of people awaited them, each wearing vests with various flashing lights. They stared at the pair of them as they walked in.
"About time, Zombie Apocalypse!" a familiar voice cried, it's owner pushing a pack into Quinn's hands, and then another into Rachel's. He grinned at them, white teeth flashing an eerie neon blue, which Rachel realised came from the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Glancing down, she saw that the white on Puck's Converse shoes were also blue. Quinn giving her a dark shirt to cover her white one suddenly made sense. "Ready to kick some butt?" Puck asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, rearing to go.
"Just a second. Rachel's never played before," Quinn said. She looked at her girlfriend and helped her slide into her vest. She did up the buckles, explaining as she went. "Basically, it's point and shoot, and try not to get shot. We're the green team, so you have to try shoot anyone who's not green. The team with the most points in the end wins."
"That's it? They're all the rules?" Rachel asked, incredulous. She always thought it was more complicated than that. The more she did things with Quinn, the more she realised that she had an overcomplicated view of the world.
"That's it, babe! Now, ready?" Puck urged.
"Not yet! The rest of the guys haven't met Rachel yet," Quinn said, and quickly shooting out names, did a quick introduction of the other people in the room, and Rachel, though she tried to keep up, knew that she'd already forgotten the names.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," one boy said, his black hair spiked up in various directions, nodding at her. Was it Lucas? Rachel couldn't be sure. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to face Quinn again.
"There are another two teams, a red and a blue, and they're already in there waiting for us. Be careful. Shoot anyone on sight. Try not to get shot. If you are, your pack will go dead for about twenty seconds and you can neither shoot nor be shot. Use that time to hide. Ok? Ready?" and when Rachel nodded, the team simultaneously moved towards the door on the far end of the room. They filed out one by one, disappearing into the dark. Rachel stuck close to Quinn, afraid to lose her, but as soon as they were on the other side of the door, she was gone, and Rachel was left on her own. She turned to her left, scurrying along the wall, then ducking behind a tall partition. She took a moment to think about what she had to do, vague ideas trying to form in her mind a plan. Abruptly, a bell sounded out across the arena and her pack, which had still been dark, lit up. With that, she knew it had begun in earnest.
She peeked out around her partition, and in front of her was a large area, mostly unpopulated by barriers. There were several figures in flashing vests, scrambling to find a better position. Thin lines of red beamed out across the space. She aimed at one in a blue vest and pulled the trigger, watching as the lights circuited out. She realised that the red beams were from the guns and realised she could use that to her advantage. Knowledge was power in this game. She ducked out from her hiding spot, scurrying along to the next one, hoping she was quick enough that no one had had time to shoot her. Glancing down once she'd reached safety, she realised that she was fine; no one had shot her. Relief washed through her. Pointing her gun at a figure in red with her back turned to her, she pulled the trigger again, revelling as the girl's pack when dead. Rachel grinned. This was fun.
She ducked in and out of the dark, shooting and trying to avoid being shot. She groaned every time her pack shut off its lights, but kept in mind the advice Quinn had left her with before they started, and tried to find a good vantage point to start shooting from. She had just found on when, poking the nose of her gun out, almost bashed it into the stomach of someone who had had the same idea of a vantage point. On instinct, Rachel pulled the trigger, but the lights on the other pack didn't go dead. With a pang in her navel, it was, she realised, because the vest was flashing with green lights, the same as her own. She found a familiar set of facial features grinning at her.
"How you finding your first foray into laser tag?" Quinn asked, sidling into the space next to Rachel and nudging her gently with her shoulder.
"It's lots of fun. I can't believe I've never done this before. But you, Quinn Fabray, left me!" Rachel accused, trying to glare at the girl in the dim light.
"There's no safety in numbers in here, Rachel. Right now, with our green flashing lights, we're like signs saying 'shoot me, I'm here!' but that's ok," she grinned, leaning forward, "because it means I get to do this," she said, placing a kiss on Rachel's lips.
"I hate you right now," Rachel growled, but Quinn knew better. They both knew better. Quinn placed another kiss on her lips before ducking out from their spot.
"Gotta go. Meet you on the other side, baby."
Rachel watched her go, not noticing the boy with a red pack approaching from behind another partition. When she did see him, she lifted her gun to shoot, only to find that it was non-functional.
"Damn it."
She waited until it was willing to work again before rushing out and sending beams of red light flying in every direction. Soon enough she was sweating, and kept having to wipe the hair away from her face, where it decided to stick. She paused, trying to form a strategy, when another player came into her space. Quick as she could, she raised the gun and fired, watching as the lights went dead on the blue pack. Not waiting another moment, she fled before the pack restarted itself.
She kept up her non-strategic routine, shooting when she could, pausing for breath when she had the chance; pretending that she wasn't trying to find Quinn again in the dark and steal another kiss. It came as a surprise when the bell rang out again in the space, and the packs when from their single coloured flashing lights to circuiting through red, green and blue. The game was over, and Rachel followed the other figures through the dark back to their starting point. Someone nudged her in the shoulder and she turned to see Puck standing over her.
"Howdy," he grinned.
"Hi."
"So, how'd you go? I think I killed out there. If I don't win, I swear the game's rigged."
"How do we find out?" Rachel asked, frowning. She hadn't really given thought to winning. She focused on the fun of it, shooting and trying not to be shot. Puck took her gun from her hand, and looked down at the back of it. He pointed to a little screen.
"Here. That's your name. You go check it on the board when we get out, and it'll tell you," he said, before going through the door, taking off his vest. She looked down at the screen. Galahad it blinked at her. She imprinted the name on her memory as she hung the vest up on a free hook. When she exited back out into the main room of the building, her eyes raked the scoreboard for the name which was on her gun. A hand found hers, distracting her.
"Fifth," Quinn said, shrugging, "not bad."
"I can't find…oh wait, there. Third!" Rachel exclaimed, finally finding her name on the board. She squealed a little in excitement. Quinn squeezed her hand in pride.
"Are you sure that was your first time?" she laughed. Puck sauntered over to them with a big grin on his face.
"Oh yeah, and guess who's top dog again," he bragged. Quinn punched him in the shoulder with her free hand, "ow! That hurt. You're a mean bitch, Fabray." This time it was Rachel who punched him. "Hey! What the hell?"
"Don't talk about her like that," she glared at the boy. He held up his hands in surrender. Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand again, briefly, then let it go.
"I have to go talk to Ernest," she said, placing a quick kiss on Rachel's cheek, "I'll be back."
"Who's Ernest?" Rachel asked, turning to Puck. He pointed at the man at the reception desk.
"He likes Quinn. She helped him build this place last summer. Every time she plays, he gives her an extra ten minutes in the arena. And free food."
"She helped build it? How? I didn't know she had building skills," Rachel muttered, looking over at the girl with the pink hair. Puck laughed.
"Well, she painted the arena, pretty much on her own. And helped pick the carpets and stuff for in here. So, not really building, but still, Ernest's a good guy, he appreciates it."
"I didn't even know this place existed until today."
"Zombie Apocalypse has a finger in every pie," Puck laughed, "but c'mon, she wants you."
They moved towards Quinn and the complex's owner, Ernest, who smiled at them in greeting. Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and started pulling her towards a set of stairs that Rachel had missed when they first walked in. Puck didn't follow as they began to climb, and neither did Ernest.
"Be safe!" Puck called from the bottom of the stairs, and Quinn gave him the finger without even looking back. The sound of his laughter chased them as they walked on. Rachel's heart resumed the faster beat it had every time she was with Quinn, and as they climbed higher, she wondered where the girl was leading them. It was dark and she could barely see anything, but Quinn seemed to know where she was going.
They came to a landing, and still pulling her along, Quinn pushed open a door. A rush of cool air hit Rachel's face and the sight of a purple sky greeted her. Time had passed and Rachel hadn't even noticed. Sunset was falling and the sky was tinted with slivers of orange and pink as the sun sank over the unseen horizon. They had emerged onto a balcony, empty save for a single table on the far side. Quinn guided her by the hand over to the table, pulling out the chair for Rachel to sit down and waiting until she was comfortable before taking her own seat. There were unlit candles on the table, and Quinn pulled out a lighter, setting fire to the wick. The flames danced in the slight breeze, but remained lit. Glancing out over the edge of the balcony, Rachel found that she could see the lake. The fiery sunset reflected in its calm water and she could not help but stare into it, mesmerised. She shivered, but not from cold; the night air hadn't cooled yet. It was the picturesque scene before her, the fun she'd had, and her date sitting across from her, chin resting on her knuckles which had caused it.
"You're very good at last minute dates," she murmured, turning to face Quinn, who was smiling at her. Rachel was momentarily taken aback by that smile; it wasn't her ordinary smile, it was the one someone gave to the person they were completely enamoured with - and it was directed at her. Her heart melted in her chest. She felt the sides of her face being pulled into a grin of their own, unbidden, but unstopped; she couldn't help it, she felt loved by Quinn. It seemed the only natural thing to do. She wanted to kiss her, but she was too far away on the other side of the table, so she reached her hand across the space, inviting the pink haired girl to take it. The other girl let out a breath in what might have been a laugh, and accepted the invitation, sliding her warm hand into Rachel's. They sat there for a few moments, not talking, just sitting, acclimatising to the comfort of the other's presence and letting the night fall around them, blanketing their city in a pale purple glow.
"I love you," Quinn whispered, finally breaking the silence, the words cutting into it like a knife through warm butter; soft and smooth and perfectly. Rachel let her eyes drop and her breath come out in a small rush, as though something invisible had torn it from her chest. Her fingers tightened on Quinn's, clutching, grasping, desperate to show the thing she could not yet quite articulate in her head. Quinn's gripped tighter, assuring her that she understood. Rachel raised her eyes again, meeting Quinn's with a shy smile. She loved the other girl too - hadn't she realised that after their first date, sitting in bed, a book of someone else's poetry clutched against her chest? - but she wasn't ready to say it back. This time she wanted to wait for the right moment, the moment when every fibre in her being urged her to say it, and she could no more contain the words than contain a hurricane. That moment wasn't then. Too often she'd rushed in telling someone that she loved them, and every time, it ended with her being hurt. No chances this time, not with Quinn; the girl meant too much to lose in a moment of naïve passion. So she smiled instead, and held Quinn's hand tighter, hoping that the gesture would convey at least some of the things she was feeling. In a flash of inspiration, she brought the other girl's hand up to her lips and kissed it. Quinn grinned.
"So," she said, dispelling the new silence, and assuring Rachel that her lack of verbal response was accepted, "how's your search for Errant going?"
Rachel groaned. She had barely thought about the poet since Quinn had given her the scrunched up piece of paper that morning. Too much had happened and it had become lost in the tide of emotions and events of the day. She reached into her pocket with her free hand and took out the paper. It was even more bedraggled than it had been that morning. She unfolded it and let it lie on the table between them. They both stared at it in the fading light and the flickering shadows cast by the tiny flames from the candles.
"I don't know," Rachel admitted, "sometimes I feel I'm close, that I only need look a little harder and that I'll find them. And other times, I feel so far away, like I'm truly on an impossible search. How are you supposed to find someone based on the words they write? They're so universal, that I think anyone could have written them-"
"But at the same time, they're so specific, they could only have been triggered by specific events in someone's life. Emotions are universal, but the causes are not," Quinn finished. "You want to believe that you can find them by deciphering the events which set the words in motion, what caused Errant to let them drip down the McKinley walls, what would cause her to stain an ugly place with beautiful things."
"Wait. Her?" Rachel asked, cocking her head to one side and gazing at Quinn with a sudden clarity and more intent. The other girl shrugged.
"I always imagined Errant to be a girl."
"But that day in the bathroom, you snapped at me for assuming that," Rachel pointed out, retrieving the day from her memory.
"So you then assumed Errant was a boy. I never said that's what I thought. I was just showing you something you hadn't considered. I still don't know anything more than you do," Quinn replied, playing with the fork on the table, twisting it around and around with the tip of her index finger. Rachel watched the action. She let out a sigh. Quinn was right; she'd jumped to the conclusion that Errant was a boy, simply from listening to Quinn's words that day. The closer she thought she got, the further it away it seemed she actually was.
"Why the sudden interest in my quest?" she finally asked. She'd picked up her own fork now, unconsciously mirroring Quinn's movements, but in the air, twirling the utensil between her fingers. Quinn watched, mesmerised as it spun in her hand. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips before she replied.
"I'm trying to support my girlfriend in her interests. I'm allowed to," she said with mock defence. Rachel smiled. First giving her the poem, and now this; she liked having someone who didn't think she was crazy - it made a nice change from the rest of her friends, who, though they loved her, most of the time, were never quite as supportive.
"You're obliged to," Rachel teased, poking her tongue out a little at the girl sitting opposite her. Quinn laughed, the sound spinning an intricate web of intimacy around them. She shrugged, a light shrug, almost noncommittal, as if to say 'yes, but I would have anyway'.
"So what happens when you find Errant?" she asked. Rachel frowned. She'd answered that question before, hadn't she? But she shrugged.
"I thought we would write songs together, helping us win at Nationals."
"There's more though, isn't there? Even with your competitive personality, there is a deeper reason than just winning the National singing competition," Quinn said, urging Rachel to speak, but being gentle about it. Rachel nodded, biting her lip. Of course there was.
"I'd hoped that I'd find someone like me. Someone I could talk to, who would understand. Kurt and Mercedes are great, but we get in each other's way; sometimes we're too big divas for our own good. And I thought with Errant it would be different. They'd understand, and be encouraging, and we could talk about our different experiences and be support. Also, Errant seems to have their own issues too, so I thought it could be mutual. But it feels like I'm never going to find out who they are," Rachel answered, finishing her explanation with a heart felt sigh. A memory came drifting back to her, and she raised her eyes to look at Quinn, "oh, and I'm sorry to have to break this to you, but I made Kurt and Mercedes a promise that if I found out who Errant was, I'd marry them. Sorry if that messes up any of your future plans for us."
"What if Errant is a girl?" Quinn gasped, eyes wide in mock horror. Rachel glared at her in return.
"Then I will marry a girl. It's not too difficult to consider, seeing as I'm a date with you," she teased, "but why is that the first question asked when I say that? Kurt's reaction was the same."
"Errant just seems very effeminate," Quinn said, looking down at her empty plate. Rachel narrowed her eyes in genuine suspicion this time. It was a very vague answer; too vague for Quinn.
"Quinn, do you know something that you're not telling me? Because I would really appreciate honesty from you right now," she quipped, extracting her hand from the other girl's and folding her arms across her chest. Quinn looked up at her sharply, both at the loss of contact and the hardness in her voice. Rachel's eyebrows shot up at her, questioning. The pink haired girl leaned back in her chair, creating even more of a distance between them. She shook her head.
"No. I don't."
"Promise. Quinn, promise me that you're not lying," Rachel insisted, keeping hold of the hazel eyes which stared at her in surprise. Quinn nodded.
"I promise."
The tense moment was broken by the appearance of a waiter who wore a black vest over a white shirt, carrying two plates. He set them down on the table, while Quinn and Rachel sat in silence. They watched him, aware that their stares were making him uncomfortable, but too uneasy with each other to break the quiet and resume conversation. They watched as he fumbled filling their glasses with wine, almost spilling it onto the table. Rachel raised her eyes at Quinn over the choice of beverage, but the pink haired girl said nothing. She simply watched and waited. She ran a hand through her hair once, but it was the only indication that there was anything running through her mind. Rachel felt an ache of guilt burning in her chest. She had been too accusatory, she thought, when she had no right to be. She let her eyes wander to the food. There was not a trace of animal product in sight. She smiled a half smile. Vegan; Quinn had remembered.
The pang of guilt returned. She wanted to take Quinn into her arms and apologise, placing kisses on the other girl's jaw line, and promising to never jump to accusatory conclusions again. But she couldn't. The waiter was still there, until being dismissed by a nod from Quinn, quickly scurried back the way he came. They waited until he was gone from sight until they picked up their forks and began eating in silence. Halfway through the second bite, Rachel decided to break the silence.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"Remembering that I'm a vegan. Not everyone does. Even Finn used to forget."
"Oh. Well, you're welcome.," Quinn answered, looking down at her own food, and shoving another forkful into her mouth.
"Quinn," Rachel began.
"I'm sorry," the other girl interrupted, saying the words Rachel was about to utter. Rachel shook her head. Quinn wasn't supposed to apologise, she'd done nothing wrong. It was her and her stupid insecurity which had made things awkward. This was supposed to be a date, not two people pretending that they were only there for the food.
"It's my fault, not yours. I'm sorry, Quinn. You're actually being supportive, and I appreciate that," Rachel said. Quinn nodded, chewing her mouthful of food. She swallowed before answering.
"It's ok."
Rachel smiled. Quinn smiled. The tension, winding around the two of them, twanging at their slightest movements, snapped, releasing them from its vice grip. They relaxed. The night was beautiful again. And they let it be, embracing it with open arms. They spoke of many things, but avoided the topic of the mysterious poet. Rachel felt that it was too soon to be diving back into that pool; one day she assumed they would talk about it with ease, but she was willing to put it off for the moment.
When Quinn dropped Rachel home at the end of the night, she was tempted to invite her inside. She wanted to curl up next to the other girl and fall asleep in her warmth, her arms wrapped around her own small frame. But the thought of her fathers stopped her. They would, no doubt, still be awake, waiting for her to get home, and she was still not ready to face them with this information. Quinn was her girlfriend, and after this date, Rachel could feel it; the thought, the word no longer sounded strange to her. But she was not ready to come out to the two men who loved her more than any other in the world.
Instead, she kissed Quinn on the lips, long and hard and all the while hoping that her inhibitions would snap within her and she'd pull the other girl by the hand to her bedroom anyway. But she didn't, and when she pulled away, she felt something in her chest loosen; she missed the feel of Quinn's lips on her own already.
"I love you," Quinn said, reiterating the sentiment from earlier in the night. Rachel leant forward and kissed her again, hoping that it would make up for the lack of words on her own part. She took a breath as she leant back. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would yield.