Rachel went back to work.
Quinn was resistant to it at first; though working at the diner was good, and honest, and truthfully brought in enough money for Rachel to help with the groceries and her own needs, Quinn also knew Rachel didn't belong in a diner. She had hoped that once Rachel was finally with her that the younger girl would want to start going to auditions or at least looking for them.
But baby steps, Quinn told herself, as she compromised with Rachel by insisting she walk her home that first night back at the diner.
The bell over the door tinkled as Quinn walked in at half past eleven, and Rachel looked up from cleaning one of the tables with a smile. She came to Quinn immediately, folding herself into her and smelling of burgers and sweat and that faint hint of spicy perfume that was Rachel's favorite. Quinn tucked her face into Rachel's neck and breathed her in.
"Missed you."
"It was only 8 hours, princess."
"I said, I missed you."
Quinn chuckled into Rachel's skin and pressed a light kiss to her neck, just above her shoulder, smirking slightly as Rachel shivered.
"I missed you too."
This was love, Quinn thought, as she pulled away and brushed an errant strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail away from Rachel's face. This was real love, not the fairytale she'd dreamed of as a child, but flesh and blood, gritty with the scent of grease and salt. Brown eyes that were twinkling adoringly up at her.
A throat, clearing itself just behind. Quinn turned.
"Hey, Rach, why don't you go count down the till?" Burt asked from his position leaning over the lunch counter, his eyes on Quinn.
Rachel looked at her, and Quinn smiled even though now she was nervous. "Go on," she said with a kiss to Rachel's forehead. "I'll wait for you."
Rachel cast a dubious look at Burt and shrugged, moving towards the back of the diner, her hand lingering in Quinn's until the last possible second.
"So," Burt said, once Rachel had disappeared past the swinging doors.
"So…" Quinn took a deep breath and perched herself on one of the stools in front of him.
"You and Rachel, you're doing this thing."
"Yeah," Quinn agreed, unable to keep a small smile off her face. "We're doing this thing."
"Hmm. You remember that first night you came into the diner?"
Now the smile faded, and Quinn glanced down at the counter, tracing its fake marble strands with her finger. "I remember."
"I don't think you realize just how much you startled her. She lives her life for what, four, five years, and then you come waltzing in."
"I'm sorry," Quinn said miserably, feeling like a puppy being scolded for not making it outside in time.
"She comes in the next day, and you know what she says to me?"
Quinn shook her head, not wanting to know the answer, but Burt did anyway.
"She looks at me and she's cleaning off one of those tables and she says 'That girl… do you think she's pretty?'"
Quinn stared at Burt. Even with the stern expression on his face she could see the merest hint of a twinkle in his eyes, and the rapid thump of her heart in her throat began to slow.
"So what'd you say?"
Burt busied himself boxing up one of the pies that was still left on the display – lemon meringue – sliding it across the counter towards Quinn. "I said you were all right," he responded, and Quinn rolled her eyes, trying not to execute a perfect Rachel Berry huff of indignation.
"It's not my opinion that matters," Burt said with a knowing look. "And Rachel… she thinks you're the prettiest girl she's ever met."
Quinn blushed and grinned. "Yeah?"
"It's what she said." Burt finished boxing up the rest of the pies and leaned against the counter again, looking intently at Quinn.
"That night I saw her smile, a real smile, for the first time since she started working here. You know, she doesn't have a dad in her life."
Quinn nodded. "I know, sir."
"But if you do anything, anything at all, to make that little girl cry? I'll be more than happy to fulfill that role. Got it?"
She had to fight the urge to salute, and so Quinn merely nodded. "I'll do my best."
Burt studied her for a minute, then shrugged. "And, you know, if she hurts you I'll kick her can too."
Quinn laughed, causing Rachel to give her a strange look as she came back out into the diner.
"We're a dollar short," she said, taking her place next to Quinn, who slid her arm around Rachel's waist.
"Mm, guess that'll come out of next week's paycheck then."
"Yes, yours, not mine," Rachel said, and Burt laughed.
"Get out of here, take the girl and the pie with you."
They fell into a routine after that first night; not necessarily an easy one, but after a few false stops and starts and a tiny disagreement or two caused by Quinn being grumpy over exams – something she apologized profusely for – everything gradually settled down. Quinn didn't like the idea of Rachel working late, so Rachel rearranged her schedule with Burt so that she only had to work late two nights a week. Even then Rachel had to put her foot down and tell Quinn that she'd survived this long walking home alone, she didn't need Quinn to come pick her up every time. And then Quinn had to laugh, because Rachel had insisted on picking her up during the two nights a week she had late classes. But eventually it was decided that on Rachel's late nights, Quinn would make dinner. On Quinn's late nights, Rachel would make dinner, and have Quinn's bath or things for her shower ready for her when she came home.
There was a small list on the coffee table now, with a few items punctuated by a gold star. Quinn had been reluctant to discuss things, preferring to go slow as Rachel had asked, but Rachel had been the one to bring the list up. It was generic more than anything, with reminders like respect and honesty (No Lying bullet-pointed with a gold star at Quinn's insistence) and a few consequences. That had brought a lump to Quinn's throat, because Rachel had shakily written out and gold-starred one simple request.
No slapping.
She was fine with physical punishment, she reassured Quinn, an awkward conversation that had left both of them blushing, but there was to be no facial contact whatsoever. And Quinn was more than happy to comply.
It was a simple list, barely anything really, but things gradually moved into a sort of casual formality that seemed to be working for both of them. There was just one thing that Quinn had yet to do with Rachel, a thought ever-present on her mind as one night she nervously tugged on her dress and waited for Rachel to come home.
At half past four the door opened and she breezed in, blowing hair out of her face with a noisy puff and "Quinn, I'm home!" dying on her lips as she took in Quinn standing in the center of the living room floor. Rachel's eyes scanned over Quinn, over the form-fitting, strapless black bodice that ended in a flowing, blue chiffon knee-length skirt, and she bit her lip.
"You're a little overdressed for dinner at home," she said.
"Dinner at home, yes," Quinn said, crossing the floor and kissing Rachel gently. "Which is why we're not having dinner at home."
"We're not?"
"No," Quinn shook her head, then grinned sheepishly. "Rachel Berry, will you go on a date with me?"
"Now?" Rachel asked in confusion, even as a slow smile spread across her own face.
"Yes, now," Quinn laughed. "Go get dressed or we'll be late!"
"I haven't even said yes," but Rachel was already moving towards the chest of drawers. "And where are we going?"
"Dinner," Quinn said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And… something else."
Rachel straightened up from pulling out clothes, which were now a mountain on top of the bed, and regarded Quinn suspiciously. "Something else where?"
"Somewhere," Quinn simply answered, thinking about the tickets that were tucked into the black clutch resting on the coffee table. This could all go badly, so very badly. But if it didn't… it would be wonderful.
Twenty minutes later she was the luckiest woman in the world as she walked down the street, hand in hand with Rachel, who had shed her diner's uniform for a knee-length dress of her own, in blue to match Quinn's, with flowers.
"You look beautiful," Quinn said, using her other hand to run her fingers through Rachel's long hair.
Rachel blushed. "So do you. How long have you had this planned?"
"Not long," Quinn admitted as they approached the restaurant. "A day or two really, kind of a spontaneous thing." She reached for the door handle.
But Rachel beat her to it, opening the door and ducking her head, waiting for Quinn to pass.
"I like spontaneity."
Quinn looked at Rachel for a moment, then brushed past her into the restaurant. "Good to know," she said with a wink, waiting for her girl to rejoin her.
The waiter directed them to a table at the far end of the restaurant, and Quinn could only stop and stare again as Rachel rushed to pull out her chair for her, with the same ducked head.
"You're very chivalrous," Quinn remarked once they were sat close together, holding hands under the table.
Rachel flushed crimson in the dim light of the restaurant. "I'm not sure that's what it is."
"Maybe not, but I like it, princess," Quinn said.
She liked it a lot.
Rachel's smile could have lit up the room.
"Good to know."
Anyone passing by the two women would have taken them for a couple that had been together years, rather than two young girls on their first date. They talked and laughed quietly, shared a kiss to seal a toast "to us" that Quinn gallantly made. Rachel's eyes were wide and excited, taking in everything from the fancy cloth that adorned the table to the age of the wine that Quinn ordered from a list that seemed to go on forever. Quinn, for her part, simply reveled in the conversation; for so long the only time she had heard Rachel's voice had been in her head. And even though their psychic bond had been a natural part of their life, at least for a while, now Quinn was realizing she couldn't get enough of hearing Rachel's voice, from the quiet softness of pain to the incredible infectiousness of her laugh. There was nothing that Rachel Berry could ever say that Quinn Fabray wouldn't want to hear.
Except goodbye.
And so she couldn't be blamed for the people at the next table who glanced over at the two of them, with soft smiles of their own brought on by the togetherness of forty years, a man with white hair and the woman of his dreams, staring at a blonde girl and her tiny brunette and remembering the newness of young love, of two people who had their own worlds, their own lives, but who couldn't take their eyes off the other.
"Something's missing," Rachel commented as she and Quinn finished up their shared dessert of chocolate cake, and Quinn's heart dropped.
"The food wasn't good?" she asked, paying the bill and escorting Rachel out.
Rachel pursed her lips at Quinn and shook her head. "The food was amazing," she reassured her with a kiss. "But there wasn't a dance floor."
Quinn raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Are you saying you wanted to dance with me?"
"Maybe," Rachel teased. "Would you have said no?"
Quinn glanced around, then looked at Rachel, extending her hand.
"Madam?"
Rachel laughed merrily, taking Quinn's hand and allowing herself to be pulled into an impromptu waltz.
"Isn't that my line?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
Rachel's eyes softened, but she said nothing as she nestled her head into Quinn's shoulder, the waltz moving into a slow dance in the middle of a crowded New York City sidewalk.
Fifteen minutes later, Rachel's hand in Quinn's tightened as the theater came into view.
Quinn walked her the short distance up to the poster at the theater, moving Rachel so that she was standing in front of Quinn, her arms around Rachel's waist and her chin on her shoulder.
"Funny Girl," Rachel stated, her voice thick with emotion.
"Funny Girl," Quinn agreed gently.
"I-I don't—"
"Then you don't have to," Quinn said. She turned Rachel in her arms and brushed her cheek with a kiss. "I saw a lot of shows when I moved to New York."
Rachel nodded, her eyes never leaving Quinn's face. "You told me."
"And I'd love to see this with the woman I love. But if it's going to hurt you, then we turn right around and go home. We'll curl up on the couch and watch Wheel of Submission."
"You always solve that in two clues!"
"It's not my fault I'm brilliant, princess."
"No, I guess not," Rachel said, the dimple appearing in her cheek, and Quinn impulsively kissed it again.
"Let's go in."
"Are you sure?" Quinn asked, her hands on Rachel's shoulders now, thumbs stroking her neck lightly. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"You're here," Rachel said. "I'll… I'll be okay."
Quinn nodded, still not terribly sure, but with her hand held securely in Rachel's she led her into the theatre. Immediately they were assaulted by the sights and smells of Broadway and Quinn couldn't help but smile, seeing the lights sparkle in Rachel's eyes, the way her mouth had opened to a silent, mesmerized "o" as they walked around, seeing all the costumes and props that were on display inside glass cases, the pictures of former stars of the show and famous guests lining the walls.
"Everything all right?" Quinn asked Rachel as they navigated the throng of theatre-goers towards one of the souvenir stands.
"It's just beautiful!" Rachel sighed wistfully, and Quinn chuckled, even as she clutched Rachel closer to her.
"What do you think of this?" she asked moments later, turning to Rachel and holding up a keychain.
Rachel laughed. "I think it's just lovely. And maybe it would keep you from losing your keys so much."
"Fantastic, I'll take it," Quinn declared to the lady behind the counter, then glanced at Rachel again.
"Anything you want, darling?"
"Oh, no," Rachel said, but it didn't go unnoticed by Quinn that her fingertips were lingering over a necklace with the show's logo. "That's all right, I don't need anything."
Quinn went to hand the money to the seller, but added another bill at the last second. "The necklace for my princess," she said, and tapped Rachel's nose with her finger when the girl just stared at her.
"She's not a funny girl is she?" the seller teased, and Quinn winked at her.
"Not yet."
She waited until they were away from the counter before taking both Rachel's hands in hers and regarding her seriously. "If you want something," Quinn said, "I expect you to tell me, is that clear, Rachel?"
Rachel nodded, looking down at the floor and scuffing the carpet with one high heeled foot. "I'm sorry, I just don't want to seem greedy."
Quinn shook her head. "You're not in trouble, Rach, you don't need to apologize. I'm just saying, it's okay to want me to buy a souvenir."
Rachel thought a moment, then asked, "Can I have a poster?"
"You have one already! Autographed! By two separate casts!"
"It was worth a try."
She had a bit of the brat in her, Quinn thought. The idea of it made her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard.
"Quinn?"
"Hmm?" She turned back to Rachel, still a little distracted by thoughts that were whirling around in her head.
"Would you like me to get you a drink?" Rachel tipped her head towards the bar.
It was on the tip of her tongue for Quinn to say no, but something about Rachel's hopeful look gave her pause.
Rachel wanted to get her a drink. She had noticed that Quinn seemed thirsty, even if she didn't know the real reason, and she had offered.
She'd offered to serve her.
"Get me a simple drink," Quinn instructed. "Not too heavy and not too fruity." She knew she could've just given Rachel the name of the drink she preferred, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't testing Rachel a little bit, to see what she came up with.
The same focused look that had come onto Rachel's face the first night she'd knelt for Quinn crossed over her face again, and she nodded. "Yes, Quinn," she answered in a clear voice, and Quinn shivered, watching as Rachel walked to the bar.
Minutes later she returned, a small, cold glass of amber liquid, topped by a cherry, in her hands. Rachel held it out to Quinn. "I hope you approve," she said, and this time there was uncertainty in her tone.
Quinn said nothing, preferring to take the drink and sip at it. She smiled, and the look of Rachel's relief was palpable. Quinn pulled her close with one arm. "This is perfect," she said.
She hesitated, then leaned into Rachel's ear. "Good girl," she whispered.
Rachel's smile stayed with her as she and Quinn were seated, but it faded as she looked out to the stage, and Quinn entwined their fingers together again, a stab of worry coursing through her.
"Rach?"
"I did think you were bringing me to a show," Rachel confessed, "But I thought it would be Wicked."
"It's probably a bit too early for that," Quinn said tenderly. "I was afraid that would really upset you."
Rachel was quiet, using her other hand to play with Quinn's fingers. "When do you think Elphaba and Glinda bonded?"
Quinn drew back a little in shock, then thought about it. "During For Good," she decided finally.
"Right before they part."
Quinn nodded, not knowing what else to say, but knowing that there were thoughts working themselves out in Rachel's head that maybe she wasn't meant to be a part of anyway.
"And yet the Fiyero and Elphaba fans still think he was her true love," Rachel sighed, a little overdramatically, and Quinn had to laugh.
"Well, there's no explaining that," she said. "I guess they just can't see what's right in front of them."
Rachel looked at her. "I'm glad we do."
Quinn smiled and kissed her nose. "Me too, princess."
Rachel would later describe the show as a "passable production," and Quinn would later just roll her eyes because she just thought it was amazing. Though it would be far more amazing once Rachel took on the title role, she told herself.
And it seemed that perhaps Rachel had been thinking the same thing, because Quinn noticed tears streaking down her face during Don't Rain on My Parade. After, when everyone had risen for thunderous applause and the actors had made their bows, Rachel remained seated while the others filed out, and Quinn shifted toward her.
"Princess?"
"That could be me right now," Rachel said with regret.
"It could still be you someday."
Rachel swiped her hand over her eyes and smiled tearfully at Quinn. "I've missed so much."
"I know." Quinn took Rachel's hands and kissed both of them in turn. "But if you want to, Rachel, that stage can still be yours. Any stage can be."
"You really believe that?"
"I really believe that," Quinn assured her.
For a moment she was once again angry at Shelby, for taking so much away from Rachel. Quinn's own parents would probably say that she had grown up, because she wasn't mad at Shelby for herself any longer. Her own pain, her own grief at losing Rachel somehow didn't matter in the face of Rachel having missed so much. A father, friends, her bond, singing, Broadway. A mother who was supportive and loved her no matter what. No child should ever lose out on that, Quinn thought to herself, especially at a parent's own hand. But she didn't voice these thoughts, knowing instead that it would just cause Rachel even more pain, knowing just how much Rachel still loved Shelby no matter what.
Rachel was quiet for the longest moment, sitting and staring at the stage, until she glanced at Quinn with new light in her eyes.
"Let's go to stage door."
Quinn stood and watched as Rachel was in her element, laughing and talking excitedly with the other theatre-goers about the show. Quinn was content just to stand back and listen as Rachel critiqued this actor's performance or that actress's interpretation of a song; she marveled at just how much Rachel seemed to be a "Broadway baby," how comfortable she was talking about songs and backdrops and exits, how natural it all seemed to her. Some things never left, Quinn thought to herself with a proud smile.
The door opened then and the actors began to stream out; Quinn would swear that she heard Rachel squeal before the girl rushed over to her. "Will you hold my purse while I get autographs?" she said excitedly, and Quinn laughed.
"Yes, princess, I'll hold it."
"Thank you, Miss," Rachel said breathlessly; her eyes widened for a split second before she turned and took her place in line again.
Miss.
Had she actually heard that right?
Quinn tried not to get too excited; maybe she hadn't heard right. There were, after all, a lot of people around, girls caught up in the throes of excitement, meeting their favorite Broadway stars and getting them to sign their books and their playbills and asking them to pose for pictures.
So maybe she'd just… heard her name. That was it, Quinn decided. Rachel had just said her name.
But Quinn didn't sound anything like Miss.
As they walked home, Quinn listened in silence as Rachel rattled on happily about the various signatures, only once grumpily complaining that she could barely decipher the one from the actor who had portrayed Nick. The corner of Quinn's mouth quirked up into a smile at that, but her mind was elsewhere as she listened.
Finally, she stopped, once again in the middle of the sidewalk. That was probably dangerous now that night had fallen, but Quinn needed to know for sure.
"Rachel?"
Rachel looked at her. "Yes… Miss?" she asked carefully, her eyes worried.
Not her name. Not Quinn, but Miss.
Quinn took a step towards her, her hand reaching out to cup Rachel's waist.
"Princess, are you sure? Because if it's too early… I don't want you to feel as if you have to because you don't."
"I don't," Rachel answered honestly. "But it just feels right. It feels like that's what I'm meant to call you."
"Oh."
"You don't like it," Rachel said, and Quinn's heart clenched when the girl hung her head.
"No, I don't like it," Quinn said, tipping Rachel's chin up and kissing her gently. "I love it."
Rachel smiled sheepishly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They were quiet for the rest of the walk home, up until they reached the sidewalk that was in front of Quinn's apartment.
"Miss?"
Quinn smiled, loving the way it sounded coming from Rachel's lips, and stopped, turning to look at her. "Yes, Rachel?"
"Thank you for our date." Rachel tipped herself up on her toes and kissed Quinn lovingly. "I would like it very much if you were so inclined to take me on another one."
"Oh you would, would you, princess?" Quinn said, pulling Rachel into her arms for another slow dance in the street light.
"Yes, Miss," Rachel hummed, curling into her.
"Good to know," Quinn whispered, closing her eyes and swaying to the sounds of the city and Rachel's gentle breathing. "Good to know."