After Rachel calls you in the morning and you pick her up, you stop at the Hummel Tire Shop. "I told Finn I'd drop the car off so he could change the tires and check the engine."
"There's something wrong with the engine?" Rachel asks, following you to the door of the front office.
You shake your head and pause with your hand on the handle, "No, but we did tell everyone that we had to stop because of car trouble," you smile and lean close to her, "And not because you're loony."
"I do believe I wasn't the only one running into the dank hotel room," she smiles back at you. Her smile reaches her eyes, but she looks tired.
You open the door and motion for her to walk in before you, "Did you sleep okay?"
Her straightened hair ripples, as she shakes her head, "Not really I was on the phone for about an hour with my agent before staying up with Dad to talk for a while. Then I had a nightmare."
You watch her as she looks around at all the small car parts and accessories hanging up on the walls. You've never met her agent but when she talks about him, he goes from being a demigod to being a arrogant, pompous ass in a matter of seconds. You wonder which one it is this time, but before you get a chance to ask, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a familiar voice asking, "Quinn?"
When you turn you find Carol Hummel looking at you. You don't actually know what to say to her. She looks a little pissed at you and you take a step back.
"What are you doing here?" she asks…well more like demands. Her voice is forceful.
You feel Rachel take a step closer to you and take your hand. Since you still can't find words, she says, "Finn told us to drop by…my car this morning, Mrs. Hummel."
Carol's eyes ripped from your frightened face and softened when they got to Rachel. "Rachel, how are you doing? I heard you're on Broadway now."
Rachel didn't hesitate to step in front of you and you didn't hesitate to leave them in the front of the shop to walk into the back of the garage. Finn was standing there, looking at a clipboard. Burt is on the other side of the shop, looking down at the engine of a car, sipping what you know to be black coffee out of a paper cup. Finn was the first one to look up as you walked over to him.
He let out a smile, looking happier to see you than he has in years, "Hey, here to drop off your car?"
You nod, "Although Rachel told your mom it was hers because your mom looks ready to cut my brake lines."
He chuckles and nods, "I keep telling her it wasn't your fault. Things happen." He glances at his step-dad and then back at you, "I'm happy for you now. And Rachel."
You nearly drop the keys that are in your hand. You search his face and find him, like always, easy to read, "Did Kurt tell you?"
His smirk gives him away. You huff. Of course Kurt told him and soon the whole damn glee club will know and they'll go to their respective corners of the country and tell everyone they know. You shake your head. That's a stupid train of thought. And it's not like it matters anyway. You don't live in Lima, Ohio anymore. You live in New York City. No one cares who you sleep with, just how much money you're making while you're doing it.
"Anyway," you offer him your keys, which he takes, "And I guess I'll give my credit card to your mom."
"Any preference in kind of tires?" he asks and picks up another clipboard off of the small, crowded desk next to him.
You shake your head, "Do your worst, I'm transporting a very important person on Broadway."
He smiles at you and unexpectedly takes you into his arms, "I'm really happy for you Quinn."
As he's holding you in place, you can smell him. He's wearing cologne. A kind that he's never worn before. You pull away, "You're dating someone." With a smile you ask, "Who is it?"
He blushes a little and asks, "How did you know?"
"Your cologne," you cross your arms, but can't help a smile. You want him to be happy.
"You don't know her. She works in the mall at the perfume counter," Finn nods and puts your keys up on a hook above the desk, "I met her while I was looking for a present for my mom on her birthday."
"Is she cute?" you ask. You kind of hope that she's not a pretty as you. You don't know why.
He sits down on the desk and crosses his arms, "She's coming with me to the wedding tonight. I'm sure you'll meet her there. Is Rachel your date?"
You shake your head, "Not officially. Not yet."
"Scared?" he asks with a knowing tone. You hate that he knows you so well. Of course five years of cohabitation with do that to people.
You hear the door to the garage swing open and Rachel walks in with a chipper smile on her face. She practically skips over to you and hugs Finn before taking a place next to you. You smile adoringly at her and ask, "She asked for your autograph didn't she?"
Rachel does say anything. She just smiles and nods.
"Anyway," you look at Finn who has nothing short of a pervy smirk on, his eyes bouncing between you two. You slap his chest and he bursts out laughing.
He rubs the back of his head, "Sorry. I'll have your car ready before the wedding."
"No rush," Rachel grins. You know that she knows that smile on his face and she gives him a suggestive wink, "We'll be busy."
Both your and your ex-husband's jaws drop to the floor. You don't have time to gawk though because Rachel drags you out of the garage by your hand and down the street to the Lima Bean.
You have a seat at a small table that has a chessboard built into it. There's a box of loose pieces on the edge of the table and Rachel thoughtfully sets the pieces up in the correct order before taking a sip of her coffee as she moves her knight, starting the game.
You certainly don't want to be the one to bring up the issues that you two are supposed to discuss at breakfast. You just spear a strawberry with your plastic fork and put it in your mouth, moving a pawn forward two spaces. After ten minutes of silence as your little wooden pieces battle on the board, she finally speaks, "Would you be okay with a very public relationship? Your mother was right and my agent and PR manager agree. It would be very public."
You're trying to gauge her reaction to this. She's holding a straight face, which makes it hard for you to know what she thinks about it. You answer honestly, "I think that I'm getting to where I don't care what other people think. I haven't been happy in a long time and with you, I'm happy. So if you want to do this, it's up to you. It's your career, not mine."
She exhales and moves her queen across the board, "Of course you give me the perfect answer."
You smile at her. You open your mouth to answer when a girl who looks about sixteen walks up to your table. She's looking between you two and holding a notepad in her hand. You lean back, ready to wait while the girl gets Rachel's autograph.
Rachel smiles at her, "Hi, can we help you?"
"You guys are totally awesome," the girl gushes, "I'm in New Directions now and Mr. Schue doesn't stop talking about you guys. His first Nationals team. Anyway," she hands Rachel the pad. Rachel quickly signs it and hands it back. The girl turns to you and offers it to you, "I saw your video. You rock."
You glance over at Rachel who is positively beaming with pride as you tentatively take the pad and sign it. It's weird. The last thing someone handed you something to sign, you were getting a speeding ticket. When you hand it back, she grins, "It would be so cool if you two could sing with us sometime." Her eyes light up, "We'll be in New York for Nationals in a few months." The girl looks so excited that she's about to pee her pants, "It would be so cool if we could sing with you guys!"
Rachel smiles kindly, "We'll talk to Mr. Schue today."
The girl throws her arms around Rachel in a quick hug and before you can react she throws her arms around you. Then she turns around to walk off she stops cold. Santana and Brittany were standing behind the girl, apparently waiting for her to finish drooling.
"Brittany!" the girl grins.
Brittany looks confused and looks to Santana for direction. The med student just shrugs. Then the girl's eyes move to Santana. "Oh. My. God."
"Do I know you?" Santana asks, suspiciously.
The girl explains that she's in New Directions now and has watched all of your Nationals footage and that you're all her heroes. She wins Santana over by telling her that she sings Amy Winehouse better than Amy Winehouse does. She gets their autographs before bouncing away.
"That was weird," Santana watches the girl walk out of the coffee shop. Then she turns to you two, "Early morning chess game?"
Rachel nods, "You're welcome to join us."
Brittany kisses Santana's cheek before saying, "I'm going to grab your coffee." The choreographer walks to the front of the shop and gets into line.
You watch as Santana watches Brittany narrowing her eyes at her girlfriend, studying her like one of her books. When she looks back at you, she sees you looking and says, "She's been acting weird. All sweet and shit. More than usual. And last night she was talking on the back porch with my dad for like an hour while I was stuck inside with my mom and my aunts and uncles. Something is up."
You sip your coffee to try to cover up your smile. You're sure you know what that's about. It's nice of Brittany to ask Santana's dad for permission. For Santana's very traditional family, Brittany's conforming to all of their mores. You see Brittany glancing back at the table. She seeks you out and gives you a knowing smile. Now you're sure what she was talking to Santana's dad about.
When Brittany returns with hers and Santana's coffee, she pulls up a chair next to you and looks over your shoulder. "You better move your horse out of the way."
You look down at the board and find that she's right. Rachel pouts on the other side of the table, "No fair Brittany."
You move your knight to the side and avoid losing it. Brittany rests her chin on your shoulder and you lean your head against hers. You watch across the table as Santana leans over and whispers something to Rachel. Your roommate moves her rook over and puts you in check.
Soon Brittany and Santana are telling you two where to move things and you and Rachel are just the hands moving things around.
"How are you two so good at this?" Rachel asks after the game as gone on for half an hour.
"We used to be super poor," Santana offers, "and all we did was play board games and watch fuzzy network TV." She squints at the board before giving Rachel her next move.
"Santana won't play Monopoly with me anymore," Brittany grins.
Santana shoots a smile to her girlfriend, "Because you're too good and I hate losing."
"Oh," you ask as you drink the last few drops of your second coffee, "How's Binx?"
"Lil' B saved her before that demon cat could eat her," Santana answers and you watch her stare at Brittany. You look to the blonde next to you. Her eyes are roaming all over the board and she's biting the nail on her left index finger. Then you look back at Santana and see the look in her eyes. At that moment, she thinks that Brittany is the most beautiful person on the planet.
After giving whispering your move to you, Brittany looks up at Santana, "He's not a demon."
"Who's Little B?" Rachel asks, her eyes bouncing between the three of you.
"Little Brittany a.k.a. Britt's little sister," Santana chomps of the end of a Danish as she mentally goes over the chessboard.
"Doesn't she go to McKinley?" you ask trying to distract her so that she'll make a bad move and you'll win. You've been at this for a long time and you're ready to go, but you still hate losing.
"She's a Cheerio," Santana nods.
Rachel looks to Brittany, "She's not in glee club?"
Brittany offers a disappointed shrug, "She thinks it's for dorks." Then Brittany smiles, "But she is on the motocross team."
"Oh my god," Santana tilts her head with a sigh, "I wish she wouldn't. I was a nervous wreck at your races. She's…baby Britt."
"Statistically speaking isn't it more dangerous to be a Cheerio?" Rachel asks, looking between Santana and Brittany.
They both look at each other and crack a smile. Then they look at Rachel. Santana nods, "You're right, but I can't help it."
You add to Rachel, "I went to one of Brittany's races and I'm sure Santana had two or three minor heart attacks while watching." You don't had that you think she was seconds away from breaking your arm because she was holding onto it so tight.
While you weren't paying attention, Brittany reaches around you and moves one of the pieces. Then sitting back with a self-satisfied grin, "Checkmate."
The smile immediately vanishes from Santana's face. Her eyes dart to the board and go over every single leading up to the kill. She leans back in her chair with a huff, "Damn it."
"Can you get me a tea babe?" Brittany grins at Santana.
The other girl exhales again and stands up, grumbling all the way to the counter.
"Can you do me a favorite?" Brittany whispers to you as soon as Santana is out of earshot.
You nod, your eyes flickering to Rachel who is watching you both closely. You're a little perplexed by Brittany's instruction, but when you ask if she's serious she nods so you agree to it.
As Santana gets back you stand as well as Brittany. Rachel takes the hint and stands with you. "I guess we should start getting ready. You drop us off ay my house?"
Santana agrees and a few minutes later, you and Rachel are standing in front of your mom's house watching them drive off. You can't stop the smile from creeping onto your face.
"What's going on?" Rachel asks, crossing her arms.
"I have to go meet with Coach Sylvester," you turn to her, "I can take you home if you want before I go."
"Why would you meet with her?" her perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow.
"Brittany asked me to," you state, "It has something to do with her proposing."
"She's proposing?" Rachel squeals with a huge smile on her face. She claps and hugs you, "Okay I want to go, but what does Coach Sylvester have to do with proposing?"
"Not a clue," you shrug. You glance up at your house and then down the street, "We can walk."
"Your car's going to be ready tomorrow right?" Rachel asks, wrapping her arms against a light wind as you walk toward McKinley.
You nod, "Finn said it would be. I told him I had a very important person to get back to New York before her Monday show."
She grins and glances at you while you walk, "As nice at these last few days have been with nothing to do, I miss having something to do."
Classic Rachel. "You haven't sung in front of an audience in so long, I'm surprised you haven't exploded."
She playfully pushes you. You step into the plush grass of someone's yard before stepping back onto the sidewalk. You like this. It's easy. Teasing her makes her smile and that light shines behind her eyes. You've know for years that you're head over feet, Celine Dion song, romance movie in love with her, but at moments like these everything feels new again. Like you just laid eyes on her for the first time and felt your heart start morph into a million butterflies trapped in your chest.
She seems to recognize the look and a light pink tint spreads across her cheeks. Her head bows and her hair falls in front of her face so that you can no longer see face.
"You okay?" you ask. You're not really concerned that you made her uncomfortable. You just want to know why you of all the people in all the world are the only person to make her blush. You've never really seen it happen before.
She looks up to you with a faint smile as you cross the street to McKinley. "Yeah. I'm fine. Great even."
You smile wide at hearing that. You decide to just leave it at that as you walk the rest of the way to the school doors. You have no idea why Coach Sylvester would be at school on a Sunday, but in high school you did happen to find her secret room and figure that she likes to sleep close to her trophies.
When you find the front doors open you let Rachel in first. The hallway seems smaller to you than it used to and it's completely empty. Rachel hooks her arm through yours as you walk through the hall. You look down at her, but she's looking around. There are posters for the Cheerios and New Directions as well as the Decathlon team and various other activities. It's a huge change from the Cheerio dominated culture of your high school years. You're glad that the playing field has evened out. The Cheerios aren't any less impressive, but New Directions is just as impressive and you helped put them there.
When you find Coach Sylvester's office in the exact same place it always has been you find her behind her desk furiously writing in her journal. Rachel tugs on your arm and you at her. She glances down the hallway then back at you, telling you that she's going to wander around while you talk to Sylvester. You nod and watch Rachel walk off before turning back to the woman at the desk.
You think it's best not to let her catch you watching her so you knock on the doorframe. Her eyes shoot you. When she looks up at you, the hard stare you're expecting is a softened gaze. You think you see her start to smile before she yanks off her glasses, "I never thought I'd see you here again Q."
You suddenly feel like you're sixteen again. She has that effect on people you surmise. You look around the office. There are some more trophies around the room that have been won since you left. You look up at her again and explain, "I'm back for Mr. Schue's wedding and…Brittany sent me here."
"Ah," Sue nods. She reaches across her desk and grabs a set of keys out of a Cheerios mug on her desk and hands them to you.
Your eyes scan the trophies along the wall a few more times after the key are in your hand. "How are the Cheerios?" You know that asking that is like asking her how she's doing. She's hopelessly attached to the squad of Cheerios.
She nods, "They're excellent as always. Of course they never have that flair it did with the three best Cheerios I've ever seen." She gives you a wink and you smile back. "How's my favorite former head Cheerio?"
You nod, "Doing excellent as well." You spot a familiar face in a picture of the current squad on the wall, "How's Brittany's sister doing?"
"Well she's no Brittany," Sue slid her glasses back on and starts shuffling around papers, "In fact, she's decided to emulate the polar opposite. In her interview, for a spot on the Cheerios," Sue picks up a paper and reads off of it, "She said that her inspiration for how she planned to handle herself as a Cheerio is Santana Lopez."
"Wow," you quietly laugh and continue looking through the pictures, trying to spot other people's younger sisters. When you don't see any, "Didn't Santana tell you that her inspiration was Genghis Kahn?"
You hear Sue chuckle behind you and turn to look at her when she answers, "Yes. That was the second best answer I've ever heard."
"What was the best?" you have to ask. You think you know though.
"Yours," she smirks, "Of course when am I not the answer to a question?"
You share a smile before you see movement outside the door. Rachel is standing across the hallway, leaning back on the lockers. You look back at Sue, "Are you coming to the wedding?"
"I suppose I'd need to," she adds taking off her glasses again, "I'm officiating it."
You can't stay you're not completely shocked, but you figured that at some point she'd become friends with Mr. Schue if only to stop him from bugging her about becoming friends anymore. "I'll see you there."
She gives you one last nod before you walk out of the room keys in hand. Rachel looks up from the tiles and smiles at you. "Get what you came for?"
You nod and dangle the keys.
"What are those for?" she eyes them suspiciously.
You just shrug, "I'm just following instructions. Where have you been?"
"I found out where Mr. Schue is having his reception," she makes a face of disapproval. If she found it inside the school you can't really disagree with her disapproval.
"It's not in the music room is it?" you push through the outside doors of the school and into the warming mid morning day.
"Worse," she huffs, "The gym. If he expects me to sing in that stinking-"
"You'd do it," you interrupt her, "Not only because it's Mr. Schue's wedding, but you've gone days without singing to an audience."
She sighs, "I suppose you're right." Her eyes drift down the street and she stops at the corner, "I need to go to my dads' house to get ready."
The way the sun is glossing her hair over and how the light breeze is blowing the hair out of her face draws you to her. She takes a step forward and meets you in the middle. You fold her into your arms. She nuzzles into your neck and her breath slides down your neck to your collarbone before being swept away with the wind.
She takes a deep breath and exhales, "One."
The scent of her hair snakes into your senses and crawls through your body relaxing every single one of your muscles. "No more counting," you mumble into her hair.
"Hmm?" she pulls away and looks up at you.
"No more counting," you tenderly brush some hair out of her face, "It's stupid."
She smiles, "Good." She steps back into you and holds you close. "I like hugging you Quinn and three times a day wasn't doing it for me."
You stand like that on a street corner in your old neighborhood before you pull away, "We have to get ready."
She reluctantly pulls away and looks up at you. A content smile plays on her lips as she looks at you. You can practically feel her eyes tracing your face and you wish you knew what she was thinking. After watching her look at you for a few moments, her smile widens and she lets out a soft, "Oh."
"Oh what?" you ask.
She beams and gives you a last squeeze before disengaging completely, "I'll tell you later. Now we need to go get ready." She shoots you one last dazzling smile before turning around and walking off in the direction of her dads' house.
You watch her turn the corner before shaking your head. That girl. That girl that has you completely wrapped around her little finger.
When you get back to your house, you call Brittany and tell her that you got the keys. She thanks you several times before asking you to bring them to the wedding. You have to ask her what they're for and she tells you they're for the proposal before telling you she has to do. She hang up and toss your phone onto your bed. You knew they were to help with the proposal. You wanted to know what the keys were to.
You take approximately an hour to get dressed which is just about the time you hear the front doorbell. You put the finishing touches on your hair and look at yourself in the mirror not giving the doorbell a second thought.
You smooth out your light green dress. You wish it wasn't a wedding so you could wear your favorite white dress, but it's tacky for anyone besides the bride to wear white. Stupid fashion rules. There are far too many rules for weddings.
A wolf whistle from the door of your room stops your thoughts about weddings and the like. You move your head to the side to see your bedroom door in your mirror. Rachel is standing there looking radiant in a short, sleeveless cobalt blue dress with black heels.
You smile at her in the mirror before picking up your eye shadow to finish up, "What are you doing here?"
"I figured that you'd need a ride," she offers with a smile.
You watch her look around your room and sit on the bed before you look back at yourself in the mirror. "Thanks."
You hear her moving around on the bed and then get off of the bed. Her footsteps are silenced by the carpet so you don't know where she went. You quietly gasp when she materializes next to you. She leans back on your vanity and faces you. Sitting on the surface of your vanity causes her short dress to slide up even more. You have to concentrate really hard on applying your make up evenly because you're fighting you own eyes to keep them focused on the task at hand.
She over dramatically looked at her wrist what didn't actually have a watch on it and sighed audibly, "And I thought I took forever to get ready."
You drop your hand in your lap with the applicator in it in fake frustration, "Do you want to do this?"
"Yes," she says, snatching the applicator out of your hand. Her soft hands gently hold along your jaw, guiding your face so that she can finish your makeup for you. When she slowly, painstakingly slowly, pushes your hair away from your face.
You close your eyes more so you can try not to know close her lips are to yours than so she can do your makeup. You feel the brush softly brush over your eyelids. After a few seconds of nothing touching your face, you open one eye, "Done already?"
She's still leaned in close to you, but she seems frozen, looking at you. When you open your other eye she hurriedly puts the applicator back in the case and closes it, "Yeah. All done." She smiles. It's not her normal smile. She seems…nervous? Maybe. You can't really tell.
She grabs her clutch off of your vanity and stands, "Ready?"
You nod, "Yeah. You driving?"
"God no," she opens her clutch and hands you the keys, "I had to drive all the way over here."
"It's like two streets away," you smile.
"I was made for New York," she lets out a genuine smile so you're not very worried about her lapse earlier. You just lead the way out the door, keys in hand.