"A little to the left… oh… okay now up… oh god yes, right there, right there, yes!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Shouldn't you be the one scratching my back?"

Still, she smiled when Rachel looked over her shoulder at her with an impish grin. "But your nails are just perfect," Rachel practically purred. "And you're so good to me."

"And you," Quinn said, lightly poking Rachel's back, "Are silly." She resumed her attentions, the scratching giving way to gentle backrubs, and Rachel sighed, pressing herself into Quinn's hands.

It was just after 4 p.m. on a lazy Friday afternoon, and Rachel had just gotten home from work. Spaghetti was heating on the stove, Van was washing himself on the living room rug, and Quinn couldn't seem to stop smiling. So much had fallen into place in the last few days that she actually wondered if she needed to be worried.

Things were probably different for them, than it was for most other couples in their dynamic, Quinn knew. But that was okay, because Rachel had said she needed to go slow, and after five years, Quinn figured she could wait a little longer for Rachel to be ready. The list of rules that were now taped to the inside of Quinn's closet were less a set of defined rules and more… "a delicate compromise," as Rachel termed it.

Their lives were busy, to start with. Some days it seemed as if Quinn barely got enough time with Rachel, because if Quinn wasn't heading off to class then Rachel was donning her waitress's uniform and going off to work, though Burt had been trying to give her less hours. Rachel said it was because Burt knew Rachel and Quinn wanted to make up for all the moments they'd missed over the years, but Quinn wondered if it was Burt subtly trying to let his favorite employee know that maybe it was time for her to travel the Great White Way.

When Quinn was sixteen years old, and fantasizing what life would be like once she'd found Rachel again, she never imagined that life wouldn't be silk ropes and collars, Rachel on her knees and loving words falling from her lips each time they spoke. She never once thought that at the age of 19 she'd be faced with trying to navigate a world in which she barely even knew the person she was bonded to, where that same girl was still apprehensive about showing her affection in some ways, and where the spectre of an unapproving mother loomed ever present over both of them.

Rachel was trying, slowly but surely, to mend her relationship with Shelby. Quinn couldn't say she was happy about the phone calls or the visits, but she'd never have taken Rachel away from her mother. She'd been taken away too much already, and Quinn was finding it too hard to forgive Shelby for that. But she knew it wasn't her job to forgive Shelby; she just hated the haunted look on Rachel's face each time she came back from a visit or hung up from a phone call. It made Quinn worry that yet another ribbon was being torn in two, but this time, Rachel herself was the ribbon.

So life was less of a bedroom fantasy and more two girls trying to understand each other and the new dynamic they found themselves in, unlike anything either of them had been taught. Quinn had been taught her life would be about control and rules; Rachel had been taught her life would be about heartache and loss. Both of them were powerless to do anything else now but hold hands and try to walk the road together.

As hard as it could be though, Quinn loved it, and knew she wouldn't trade it for anything. Especially in the early mornings, when Rachel would start to stir from her sleep. She'd stretch her legs out and let out a whine that reminded Quinn way too much of an adorable puppy; in fact she'd called Rachel that once or twice, laughing at the way Rachel's face would flood crimson. Quinn would lay with her arm draped over her eyes, shielding them from the sun that always poured through the window, and pretend to be asleep. And somehow it always struck her that Rachel was her most submissive in the mornings, because she'd curl around Quinn and tuck her head under her chin, one word quietly leaving her lips.

It wasn't a request, it wasn't Rachel trying to get Quinn's attention, she realized. Because Rachel wouldn't say anything else, not until Quinn had "woken" and they got out of bed to begin their day. Rather, for the fifteen or so minutes that the two of them lay there together, drawing strength and love with each slow, calm breath, Quinn understood that Rachel was telling herself, it's not a dream. Rachel, who had torn herself away from the one person she wanted the most, now needed to reassure herself every day that Quinn was real, that Quinn hadn't been a beautiful ghost in yet another heartbreaking dream, sweet and buried in Rachel's unconscious hopes, only to fade away with the first rays of sunlight. Rachel needed to feel her, to press her body close to Quinn's and feel the steady sureness of her heartbeat. Quinn would keep her eyes closed, feeling a small, uncertain hand skim its way over her arm from shoulder to wrist, until finally, warm fingers would tighten around hers. She'd smell the gentle scent that was Rachel's flowery shampoo, feel Rachel under her chin, and finally, finally, after a few long moments, Rachel would relax. Quinn was there, Quinn was real, and it wasn't a dream.

Quinn would pretend to be asleep, and try not to cry.

A breath, a sigh of relief. A whisper.

"Miss."

Rachel didn't call Quinn Miss every time; she was still trying to find her own way around the person that she was, the person that she had suppressed for so long, and there wasn't any possibility of Quinn trying to force Rachel to be someone that she wasn't ready for. They'd eased into a casual kind of bond, honorifics and deference in the early mornings, and then a sweet affection of text messages and phone calls during the day. And once the sun went down, Miss and her princess were slowly discovering the beauty of a girl on her knees, or a firm hand protectively circling a wrist as they watched television.

And the best part of sundown, always the best part, for Quinn, was the kisses. Oh, they shared numerous kisses during the day, gentle and sweet and teasing, but something was changing, for both of them, and it was never more apparent as it was when they were alone in the dark and quiet, holding each other in what was now their bed.

Neither of them were ready, and both of them were glad when they'd realized, because the kisses were becoming too urgent, too fast, with hands moving where they hadn't before. And then Rachel would start to shake, or Quinn would pull back with shallow, rapid breaths. They'd smile and laugh, foreheads touching, and sometimes Quinn would sing. It was easier at night, when Rachel couldn't see her blush, and it helped to calm both of them in the heat of the moment.

Both knew what they wanted, but Rachel had said "slow," and if it was a turtle's pace she needed, that's what she would get. Even so, it was hard not to imagine if and when, especially now as Quinn ended her massage and wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist, pressing her lips to Rachel's neck.

"What do you want to do with our evening, puppy?"

The tips of Rachel's ears turned pink, even as she shivered from the touch of Quinn's mouth on her skin.

"Well, we don't have to go out," she said, "Since someone so lovingly cooked an amazing dinner for us both."

"You're such a flatterer," Quinn said, urging Rachel to turn around so that she could hold her. "But yes, we can stay in if you want."

Rachel nodded and was about to say something, when a knock at the door sounded. Quinn tilted her head, confused.

"Sam?" Rachel offered, and Quinn shook her head, reluctantly getting up from the couch.

"He's working tonight," she answered Rachel, "So I don't know why he'd be here." She crossed the apartment to the door and opened it.

"Maybe he took the night off, though, I bet I still have one of his video games."

"Actually, no," Jamie said, shuffling from one foot to the other as Quinn stared.

Elle smiled warmly at Quinn, then peered past her to wave at Rachel. "We've um, we've come to talk," she said, glancing at her mistress, then back at Quinn. "I'm sure you know why?"

Oh, she knew exactly why, Quinn thought to herself. She remembered full well the night that Jamie had jumped on Rachel; the anger that still rested just below the surface was tempered, though, by the confessions that had come later that night, and how she and Rachel had fallen asleep in each other's arms. Quinn took a step back from the door and looked over at Rachel.

Rachel's face was conflicted, as if she wanted to tell both Jamie and Elle to go away, but couldn't, because they were Quinn's friends. And Elle was Rachel's, now, somewhat, and Quinn could tell that Rachel was so desperate for friends, so desperate for anyone to give her some sort of attention that wasn't her mother's.

That was part of what scared Quinn, too, but Rachel was always hasty to reassure her that she wasn't just latching on to Quinn. She did, really and truly, love her.

Rachel hesitated, before she managed a small smile at Quinn, and nodded. Quinn returned the smile, then looked back at Jamie and Elle.

"You two come on in, just let me turn the stove off."

"Oh, shoot, you cooked dinner," Elle said, sounding disappointed. "My Lady and I were going to go out for Chinese and thought you and Rachel might like to join us."

"Rach?" Quinn queried. "I can put the spaghetti up and we can have it tomorrow."

"I don't know," Rachel said slowly, and Quinn was going to decline when Jamie spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

She wasn't speaking to anyone else but Rachel, and the regret in Jamie's voice was palpable. She went and sat down by Rachel, which made Quinn tense, but a quick glance to Elle told her that she had absolutely nothing to worry about, and both she and Quinn retreated a little ways off from the other two.

"When Quinn found you I kind of yelled at her, told her she needed to tone it down before you slapped a restraining order on her," Jamie continued with a rueful chuckle. "As it turns out, I probably should've listened to my own advice. Luckily I have someone who reminds me that being a Dominant doesn't mean dominating everyone."

Elle smiled, ducking her head and blushing as she helped Quinn package up the spaghetti and transfer it to the refrigerator.

"You were right though," Rachel said. "My mother… she's why."

"That only matters to you and Quinn," Jamie said gently, reaching out and ever so carefully taking Rachel's hand and squeezing it. "What matters to me and Elle is that you're the reason you're here now, Quinn's the reason you're here now. And as long as you two take care of each other then we don't want anything else. I don't want anything else. Except to be Quinn's friend. And yours."

Quinn and Elle were finished now, and Quinn leaned on the counter, not wanting to look as if she was eavesdropping. But it was a studio apartment, after all, and she couldn't help but smile, listening as one of her best friends tried to reassure the woman she loved. What Jamie said next though made all pretense of not listening fly out the window.

"And if I get out of line again you can be sure that brat over there with Quinn will let me know about it."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow as Quinn began to laugh, and her Miss was relieved to see those dimples appear as Rachel smiled. "Sesame chicken?" she asked Quinn, and she nodded, moving to hold out her hand and pull Rachel up from the couch.

"I think that sounds great, princess."

Thirty minutes later they were seated around a table and Rachel was glancing down at the menu, saying to Quinn, "I was born in 1994… the year of the dog."

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, taking a long drink of her water. "That seems accurate for you, puppy."

"Quinn!" Rachel gasped, and Elle giggled.

"So you two play, then?"

Quinn mentally facepalmed as Rachel regarded Elle, who was sharing a menu with Jamie as they held hands, almost cuddling in their section of the booth.

"Play?"

"Puppy play," Elle explained. She glanced at Rachel. "Since Quinn called you…" She trailed off, seeing Rachel's eyes widen. "Puppy… no?"

"I-I-" Rachel stuttered, her face so red that it now seemed purple, and Quinn found herself looking around the restaurant, trying to avoid meeting Jamie's eyes, since she looked as if she was about to burst out laughing any second.

"Okay, I am so sorry," Elle said quickly. "I just thought that… clearly I thought wrong so—"

"I mean I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to it."

Quinn choked on her water, causing Rachel to smack her back and her Miss spluttered before finally looking at her with shocked eyes.

Rachel wanted to…?

Rachel bit her lip and looked down at the table. "I mean if you wanted to, but perhaps this isn't the best place…"

"We'll talk about it later," Quinn hastened. Down, me, she told herself, because she'd in that short second already begun to think about it, and she didn't need Jamie to be smirking at her any more than she already was.

"Right, well," Elle cleared her throat. "Have you thought about what you might like to order, Miss?"

"I think I might get the sesame chicken after all," Quinn said, noticing that Rachel had stiffened next to her. Quinn wondered what was wrong, and began wracking her brain for what she or Elle might have said that upset Rachel.

But as it turned out, Rachel apparently felt bold enough to address that herself. Smiling sweetly, she said to Jamie, "And what about you? What will you be ordering, My Lady?"

It was as if ice slid through her veins, hearing those words, almost like they were a bad dream. And she wasn't the only one who felt that way; Quinn had never before seen Elle turn that particular shade of green, and even Jamie's mouth dropped open as she stared at Rachel. The two submissives squared off, with Rachel sitting back against the booth, her arms crossed over her chest. The sly grin on her face seemed almost to be daring Elle to say something to her, and Quinn asked herself when a simple double date to a Chinese restaurant had turned into an all-out war.

But then Elle laughed, and she smiled warmly at Rachel. "Your point is very well taken, Rachel Berry," she said, and she winked at Jamie. "Jamie is my lady, and Quinn is your miss. I won't forget it."

Quinn couldn't help but pout, even as Rachel nodded and said, "I won't forget it either." She smiled though, because Rachel leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I love you, Miss."

And then she was beaming, pulling Rachel to her with one arm. "I love you too, my devious little princess."

Quinn spent the next couple of hours sitting back for the most part and just letting Rachel enjoy having a dinner out with friends. She was so glad that Jamie and Rachel seemed to be getting along now, and were even able to laugh and joke with each other. There were so many things that Rachel apparently hadn't ever been able to do, going out to dinner with friends being one of them. So even though Quinn talked and enjoyed her meal and kept playing with Rachel's hair, she was content mostly just to sit back and let her princess shine.

"I think things are going to be a lot better now," Jamie said to Quinn as they paid the bill.

Quinn glanced over at Rachel, who seemed to be busy studying a flyer on the wall, the writing too small for Quinn to see what it was, exactly.

"I hope so. We still have… things to learn."

"Well sure you do," Jamie said with a shrug, popping a mint into her mouth and handing one to Quinn. "You don't want sesame chicken breath to interfere with smoochin'."

"Smoochin'?" Quinn said, and shook her head, but took the mint nonetheless.

"Yes, smoochin'. And anyway, we are who we are, Quinn, but that doesn't mean everything comes naturally. No one told you when you were seven years old that you'd have to deal with any of this, and no one told you what it was going to be like when you found Rachel. You could read every book there is out there and still not know everything."

"You make it sound like you do, though," Quinn pointed out.

"Well yeah, I know everything. I just said that you won't."

Elle came up right as Quinn punched Jamie in the arm, and cooed over her lady appropriately while pretending to glare at the perpetrator. "She probably deserved it though," she whispered to Quinn, who laughed as the three of them met back up with Rachel.

"Ready to go?" Quinn asked, and Rachel nodded, though there was a faraway look in her eyes that caused a lump in Quinn's throat.

"Ready, Miss."

The look didn't leave Rachel's eyes even when they had made it back to their apartment, and she was sitting on the couch with Van on her lap. Quinn was quiet, hoping that Rachel would tell her on her own what was bothering her, but after about an hour, she couldn't stand the silence.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, then shook her head at how ridiculous it sounded.

Rachel smiled at her. "It's that obvious, then?"

"Have I done something?" Quinn asked. She sat on the couch and shooed Van away, taking both Rachel's hands in hers. "Did I say or do something at dinner that—"

She was quieted by Rachel's finger on her lips and Quinn smiled, kissing it and waiting. Rachel pulled her hand away and looked at her for a moment.

"Do you think I would make a good Maureen?"

Quinn drew back a little. "Maureen?" Who was Maureen?

Rachel paused, her eyebrows lifted as if to say "Well?" When it was obvious Quinn wasn't going to get it, she let out a very melodramatic sigh, and then quietly sang, "Only thing to do is jump over the moon…"

"Maureen!" Quinn said stupidly, actually smacking her forehead with her hand. "Rent! Wait… wait… really?" She was unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, and Rachel blushed.

"There was a flyer on the window," she said hesitantly, and Quinn nodded.

"I saw it, was it an audition?"

"It's Off-Broadway," Rachel explained. "In fact it's so Off-Broadway it might be over a bowling alley in Jersey for all I know but it's… I don't know, it's—"

"It's a start," Quinn said, her hand now on Rachel's cheek, a thumb running over her lips. "It's a start for my princess. Oh, Rachel…"

A part of her was worried that it was too soon for Rachel to even think about auditioning for something, but if what Rachel said was true, that it was some Off-Broadway revival that was likely made up by a bunch of unknowns and probably would only be seen by relatives – well, not that she knew that was true but it was a start, it was Rachel taking one step in what Quinn hoped was her right direction. She just hoped Rachel was doing it for herself, which is what had Quinn saying, "But if you don't want to, you don't have to, Rachel. Don't do anything because of me."

"Oh, I am doing it because of you," Rachel said, smiling a little, "Because you make me want to. You make me feel like I can. But I'm not promising anything."

"I'm not expecting anything," Quinn said, impulsively pulling Rachel onto her lap. She was afraid that Rachel might pull away, but instead the younger girl melted into her, her head on Quinn's shoulder. "I mean, except for you to be amazing. But that comes naturally."

She could feel Rachel smile against her skin. "Does it, Miss?"

"I think so," Quinn said, running her fingers through Rachel's hair and lightly kissing her ear. "I know that maybe… sometimes you haven't felt amazing, but trust me, Rach, you are."

It made Quinn's heart soar, thinking about Rachel finally, finally being on stage. She worried, too, about the long hours and would the other cast be nice to her. Would the director say something about her nose – she'd kill him! – would the producers make sure to showcase Rachel's voice the way it needed to be? And then Quinn laughed to herself, because Rachel hadn't even gone on the audition. Rachel on Broadway was still, right now, a pipe dream, but to Quinn that didn't matter. It wasn't a question of if, it was only a question of when.

Which is why she wholeheartedly approved of Rachel calling and telling her mother. Quinn knew she was probably glad Rachel was doing it out of a perverse sense of pride; she liked the idea of Rachel finally showing Shelby that she was taking charge of her own life, and that she would be just fine doing it. Quinn had for so long made her own decisions, and her parents had always supported her, whether she wanted to be a history teacher or an artist. She simply still couldn't fathom a parent actively trying to keep their child from following their dreams.

So she sat with a little smile on her face, listening as Rachel carefully but excitedly told her mother all about the audition, where it was to be held and when, and possible selections that she might sing. Quinn thought that it didn't really matter what she sang, that she could sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and get any role she wanted – but that was why Quinn was studying history and wasn't a producer.

The sound of her own phone ringing broke Quinn out of her happy reverie, and she furrowed her brow, not recognizing the number that popped up on the screen. "Hello?" she said, answering.

"Is this Quinn Fabray?" The unfamiliar voice asked.

A woman, sounding clipped and professional. Impersonal. Almost like Shelby, Quinn thought, but she wouldn't dare ever tell that to Rachel. She figured it wouldn't go over very well.

"Yes, who's this?"

"This is Nurse Elizabeth Horne at New York Downtown. Are you able to come to the hospital?"

Quinn stood up, a wave of panic rushing over her. Elle and Jamie had walked home… Two women on a dark New York night, walking the streets alone. Oh God. Quinn didn't think she could forgive herself if… if…

Rachel, sensing that something was wrong, hung up the phone with her mother and came over to Quinn, grasping her hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Yes, yes of course I can, what's going on?"

"We have you listed as the emergency contact for a Mr. Evans, Sam Evans."

Quinn closed her eyes and wavered on her feet; Rachel steadied her with an arm around her waist.

"I'll be right there."