Hello. Thank you for reading, following, and reviewing. I should mention, the title is taken from a song called 'All Time Love', by Will Young.

Brittany needs to find another punch bowl.

Artie's learned a lot while he's been at college, and item number one seems to be 'bazillions of cocktails that make a house party bounce.'

Problem number one is that Brittany is out of appropriate vessels.

'Artie…seriously, unless I go release Brenda the fish into the wild I have no more bowls, and like, Brenda has been in our family for a long time now and will not take kindly to a life on the mean streets of Lima.'

Artie seems to eye Brenda for a long moment, but Brenda gives as good as she gets until Artie is forced to break eye contact first.

'She could live in the sink for the night…?'

'Oh sure Artie' Brittany puts both hands on her hips, outraged, 'And you could live in… in the wheelbarrow for the night, so we can use your chair for a waitress trolley, huh? I mean, Brenda is living with a disability Artie, just like you, and she needs her bowl, okay? You disabiliphobic monster.'

Artie holds up both hands in protest.

'Okay, okay, jeez. Though for the record, being unable to breathe without water isn't a disability, if you're a fish, Brittany.'

'Yeah? Tell that to the mud skippers, yeah? Those privileged, entitled, guppies with their bad attitude and little feet.'

Artie looks to be winding up for a serious debate, but Santana enters the kitchen at that point, clearly sensing bad vibes.

'Britt, how do we get your dad's speakers to really blast? Because right now I think me and Puck have only managed to access a tenth of their capacity.'

Artie wheels through before Brittany can answer.

'I'll go have a look; Santana, check the cupboards again for pans, okay?'

Santana watches him go for a second, and then glances at Brittany.

'What's gotten into him?'

'Artie doesn't think that fish are deserving of basic human rights.'

Santana rattles the cutlery drawer rooting for something, and so answers absentmindedly.

'What a jerk… Do you guys own a ladle for all this punch? Also, have you heard from Quinn? I tried her a while back but she didn't pick up.'

Brittany shakes her head, silently relieved Santana didn't pay too much attention to her previous statement (she'd just reviewed it, and it didn't even make much sense to her) and reaches past Santana to bring the ladle to her attention.

'Just here. Quinn said she wouldn't be able to help with the warm up, because big sis is in town and her mom wants to play happy families. She'll be over for the party party though. Just not the pre party.'

Santana nods, and eyes the five bowls of punch on the kitchen table.

'She bringing anyone?'

Brittany shrugs. Santana shakes her head wearily.

'Girl needs to get laid. Seriously… is Lady Lips coming? And do you know what is in these drinks, or are we trusting Artie?'

'They're fine. I watched. No bleach in any of them. And San, no match-making, okay? You can't fix everyone.'

Santana extends the ladle to the bowl nearest to her, and then retreats, wary.

'I just think she'd be happier if she uncrossed her legs at some point in her life.'

'How do you know she hasn't?'

'She'd tell me.'

Brittany bites her lip at that point, because even though she's pretty sure that Santana is one of Quinn's closest friends, Brittany doesn't think Quinn would even tell the mirror about any romance in her life unless it was super serious and they were getting married. She lets it slide, however, because the buzzer sounds.

'People, Santana! Quick, help me with my outfit.'

Brody has met Brittany a couple of times, and has heard a lot more about her from various anecdotes. He likes to think that the slightly contrasting descriptions offered by Santana, Rachel and Kurt have given him an accurate, almost 3D understanding of her character.

He is, however, unprepared for the fact that she is dressed as a tiger.

He can feel Rachel tense beside him.

'Brittany! Happy Birthday – you look amazing! You… its… it isn't meant to be a costume party, is it?'

Brittany shrugs, and reaches out to press Rachel into her side for what looks like a very fluffy hug. Rachel coughs a bit when she is released, and immediately checks how much fluff Brittany's left on her black top.

'No Rachel, it is only me. Unless people are really smart and read my mind. Anyway, hi! Rachel, you can go in. Brody, you need to sing something.'

Brody blinks. 'What?'

Brittany nods. 'Yeah, you have to audition. I mean, I know you're on Broadway now, so you'll probably be okay, but I can't just let anyone in, it'll be mayhem.'

Brody catches Rachel's eye for a moment, just over Brittany's shoulder, and then shrugs, filling his lungs.

'Who's that giving it some on the doorstep? Dude sounds like he's about to start harmonizing with himself.'

Santana reaches past Puck to turn the music down for a brief second, hears Brody's tone from the doorstep, and then yells through to the kitchen.

'Kurt! Your woman's here!'

Puck claps his hands together once, and makes for the front door, flipping Santana off when he catches her smirking at him. She'd been refraining from commenting on how excited Puck was at the prospect of seeing Rachel, because she is ultimately just as guilty of switching her attitude towards Rachel. But it is cute, nevertheless. And whatever, okay?

Santana grins again when she hears Rachel's squeals in response to however Puck's decided to greet her, and waltzes through the room, circumnavigating Zizes and Sugar with slight difficulty and an accompanying eyeroll.

Her phone's still got nothing from Quinn. Santana sighs, and glances at the clock for the hundredth time. If Mr and Mrs Showtune have made it, she really wants Quinn here to complete the set.

She's not nervous.

She's not.

It's just… she doesn't want to be early, because then she'll have to do extended polite conversation with whoever else is early, which is a Russian roulette she's not sure she is willing to risk.

And she certainly doesn't want to be late, particularly if Santana is going to start making a scene, because it'll mean that when Quinn does arrive, all eyes will be on her and she'll have to be the centre of attention for fifteen minutes while everyone interrogates her. And looks at her.

Quinn is too old to be this paranoid about trivial things like arriving at a party.

She just wishes she could snap her fingers and be at the party, twenty minutes after her arrival.

Her cell beeps at her again, and this time its Rachel's icon that illuminates the screen.

Quinn sighs, and adjusts her blazer for the final time.

Okay. High school reunion.

Rachel is trying to remember that this isn't her party. Brittany's birthday. Not hers.

But the fact remains that some of her very favorite people in the whole world are here, or are due to be here at any second. And the people that she doesn't really know, the ones who joined the club after she left for New York, are eyeing her life she's some kind of celebrity. She's trying to pretend it's really embarrassing.

It really isn't.

The only potential problem, that of Finn figuring out how to be normal around Brody, has already been nullified by Kurt, who stepped in and orchestrated a very civilized conversation while Rachel slipped off to circulate.

She's mainly circulating by the front door.

Rachel's been concentrating on being happy, since her stolen conversation with Quinn. Concentrating on being proud of Brody. Concentrating on eighty percent. It's a high number, all things considered.

So she wants to say thank you. And fill Quinn in on the situation as it is, regardless of whether or not she is actually interested.

Quinn's car pulled up three minutes ago. Rachel's on the verge of going to check on her when she sees blonde hair approaching from the glow provided by Brittany's porch light.

'Hi Quinn!' Too late, Rachel realizes that she's opened the door before Quinn has rang the buzzer, but no matter.

And then she realizes that she's pretty much just flung herself at Quinn, who seems to choose at the very last second to open her arms to Rachel, rather than fend Rachel off with her elbows.

'Oof… hello? Hi there.'

Rachel squeezes tight for a moment, (because what's the point of a hug if you can't commit to it?) and then leans back.

'Oh my gosh, I was worried that you weren't coming, Santana's getting all twitchy and territorial, can you please tell her she isn't allowed to scratch anyone, and you look amazing by the way, I love the jacket, can I try it on some time, although it does look great on you, so it'll look dreadful on me, we're pretty much polar opposites when it comes to clothes, really, and so, well, how are you? You look great.'

Quinn appears to take all of this in her stride.

'Thanks Rachel, you look great too. And you can't steal my jacket. Is Brittany around?'

Brody's going to have an excellent night, he knows.

Mainly because Rachel seems so happy, now that everyone who matters to her is here. Quinn gets dragged into the kitchen, looking gorgeous as she always does (seriously – why are all of Rachel's friends so attractive? It's insane, how attractive these girls are) and Brody can tell Rachel is one iota of joy away from jumping up and down, or bursting into song.

He slides a hand around Rachel's back as he greets Quinn, who says some very complimentary things to him about the Broadway gig. Rachel must have told her, which makes Brody feel doubly loved, because Rachel's proud of him, of course she told her friends.

'Thank you, it's nothing really. I'm very lucky. How are things with you? Still knocking them dead at Yale?'

Quinn is forced to break eye contact with him for a second, as Santana rounds the corner at something approaching light speed and collides with Quinn, wrapping her in a full body hug.

'Here's the Ice Queen! Bitch, I thought you were going to bail, where've you been? BRITTANY! QUINN'S HERE!'

Brody can hear yelps of joy from the other room, and knows Quinn's got about three seconds. Quinn seems to realize this too, and raises an eyebrow at him, over Santana's head.

'Trying to Brody, always trying.'

Brittany bounces in, and adds an extra layer of body to the hug behind Santana, and then Santana pulls Rachel in, as a couple of other girls Brody hardly knows plough in too, until Brody can hardly see Rachel, can just hear her laughter, nearly drowning out Quinn's protests that she can't breathe.

Like he says. It's going to be a good night. He grabs his bottle of beer, and leaves them to it.

A couple of hours later, and Rachel knows Santana is a bit drunk, because she's defaulted to her usual drunk speech that Rachel always seems to receive. Santana's propped herself up in the corner of the kitchen, all the better to deliver the message to Rachel.

'We were fucked up, I mean, me and Quinn, complete bitches to you, seriously, and also, like, lies, because you aren't ugly Rachel, I mean jesus, far from it, okay? Ask the Brodeo, because your clothes were hideous, but sex is for naked people, am I right, so, you know, fuck the clothes, if Brittany wasn't the hottest creature alive then you would be a contender, do you know what I'm saying?'

Rachel totally does. Santana thinks Rachel's hot, as she always does when she's had two drinks too many. Rachel knows she must be a bit drunk too, because her response is her usual drunk response.

'…Tana, you're like, amazingly attractive too, it's a complete travesty that we're too hot to be single, because our one night stand would be amazing, I would rock your world, okay, and… Quinn!'

Quinn's here. She's not exactly ugly, either.

'Hello you two, have you finished declaring your love for each other yet?'

Rachel can't help it, and collapses on Quinn's shoulder, giggling, while Santana tugs at Quinn's free arm.

'But I mean, come on Quinn, look at Berry these days, she's hotter than any hobbit, we must have been blind, Berry I'm so sorry that all of your insanely irritating personality quirks hid your innate hotness, because I would have at least been a lot more specific in my insults, and you'd have saved Quinn from having a massive complex over why Finn chucked her for you, because, what Quinn? You know this is true, what are you looking like that for?'

Quinn's shoulder smells really good. From this position Rachel can feel Quinn's answer as well as hear it.

'San, Brittany's looking for a dance partner in there, she's nearly worn Brody out.'

Santana says something in Spanish that's probably very rude, and then it's just the two of them, with Rachel still leaning heavily on Quinn. Rachel is struck by a desire to have Quinn hold her up, and maybe wrap an arm around her back. She tries to communicate this telepathically.

'Shall we maybe get you some water? We don't want a repeat of New Year's 2013, do we?'

Wow, telepathy clearly isn't her thing.

'Quinn, no, I'm fine, my alcohol tolerance is way higher now, thank you. Here, we should…'

Rachel's leading them out into the corridor, and then through the first door that she finds which doesn't have music thumping on the other side. This room contains, after a brief investigation in the dark, contains something soft to collapse on, and Rachel does so, grateful to get off her feet.

A light switch gets flicked on above her, and Rachel discovers she's collapsed onto the pile of coats left by party go-ers. There's space for two, surely?

'Quinn! Come and sit with me.'

Quinn squats opposite her, bouncing on her heels slightly.

'Uhh, what are you doing Rachel? Are you okay? Should I go get Brody?'

What? No. Making an effort, Rachel pulls herself together slightly.

'Nonono, I'm good, seriously, I'm fine, I just wanted to catch up with you somewhere quiet, can't talk in there.'

Quinn squints at her for a moment, and then rearranges herself, so she's sat, cross legged on the floor. Rachel copies, and then reclines on coats. Quinn watches her without speaking for a moment, and then smiles.

'Okay. What did you want to talk about?'

Crap. Rachel doesn't really know. She just wanted one to one time, she decides. Stalling, Rachel twists to her side to rummage through the pile of coats.

'Here! Can I… do you mind if I try it on? Promise not to steal it.'

Quinn eyes her blazer for a second, and flips a hand, casually. 'Sure Rachel, but there's no mirror in here that I can see…'

Oh, it smells like her. Rachel can't figure out what Quinn smells like, but this is definitely it. It's a good smell. Instinctively, she snuggles deeper, hands automatically going in pockets. The one on her left contains something that feels like a booklet, and she brings it out. It's wrapped.

'What…oh! You forgot one of Brittany's presents!'

Quinn is quiet for an awfully long moment, long enough for Rachel to investigate and realize that, no, the card says this isn't for Brittany.

'Umm. No, that was for you. But it's nothing really, you don't have to… I mean, it's no big deal.'

Rachel blinks curiously at Quinn.

'A present?'

Quinn's hand goes to the back of her head, and she rearranges her hair in a way that looks messy and perfect at the same time.

'I… guess? But hardly. But I mean, I think I forgot your birthday, so. And it is nothing, really.'

The nothing is tied with a bow. And Rachel's pretty certain that her birthday wasn't missed, there was a facebook message and a text and a card, which still hasn't left her window sill despite the fact that it is February. Rachel squashes the instinct to rip, because she's not nine, and glances up at Quinn.

'Can I open it? Please be aware that if you say no I'll almost certainly ignore you.'

Quinn nods once, and then studies her strap of her watch with an odd amount of focus, as though the sight of Rachel's wanton destruction of her careful wrapping causes pain.

Breathe. She attempts to be gentle, easing fingers underneath folds of paper. After the moment the paper falls apart, revealing… the two programmes from the two NYADA performances Rachel's been involved in. Rachel looks up at Quinn, uncertain.

If she didn't know that Quinn is never unsettled by anything, she'd say Quinn was blushing. Quinn laughs nervously, and reaches to take them from her.

'Yeah, not really a present for you, exactly. But… this'll sound crazy, I thought maybe you should sign them. So when you're famous and have left all of us behind, of course, I can put them on EBay, and buy myself a car.'

The words sound awkward, as though Quinn had rehearsed them but didn't quite decide on the perfect delivery. Rachel's… she doesn't even know what she's feeling, but it is a lot of it, whatever it is.

She hugs her. Quinn's warm in her arms, and Rachel's already thinking about what message to put with the signature.

'I'd never leave you behind, oh my gosh, what are you, crazy?'

Quinn's hands pat at her back, seemingly grateful that the gift was taken in the spirit it was intended.

'You see? Not a present, more a…vote of confidence.'

Rachel tips back on her heels, so she's right in front of her. Quinn glances once at her, and then it's back to the watch.

'Whenever you have time. And not right now, thank you, I don't want any miss-spellings due to drunkenness, it'll affect the value.'

Rachel laughs, and is on the verge of doing something, when she hears her name being yelled.

'Where's Berry?! I will not have the girls being beaten at SingStar or whatever the fuck that shit is by the boys, not at my B's party! Berry!'

Quinn snorts. 'Your cue, I believe.'

Rachel grins, and grabs Quinn's hand. 'Come on.'

Later. It's later.

Paaarrty. Woo!

Party rhymes with Artie, Rachel realizes abruptly. She sits on him in order to get close enough to pass this info on over the music.

'Artie! Your name. Rhymes with party! Isn't that amazing?'

Artie nods a few times, and then holds a hand up for a hi-five, which Rachel meets with a small 'yay!'

Artie's grinning at her. 'You enjoying the punch?'

'Yeeeeaaah, de-lish. This party's amazing, I know everyone, except the people who don't matter, but who cares about them?'

There's a hand on her shoulder. Rachel whips around, expecting Brody.

'Jesse! Oh my gosh, hi!'

Jesse's an ass, she remembers now why she didn't like him.

'So, this Brody guy seems nice and dull.'

She smacks him on the arm, and then clings to the door frame when the motion makes her wobble.

'There's nothing wrong with nice, Jesse, okay? Nice is good. Rather nice than whatever else is out there.'

Jesse rolls his eyes, and reaches a hand out to remove a drink from a boy who Rachel isn't sure she recognizes, and knocks it back without looking at him.

'Yes indeed, because god forbid you'd be with a man who is interesting. Is that your type then? Nice looking, friendly, well-meaning nobodies? No wonder you and I never made it.'

Rachel draws herself up to her full height, painfully aware that this only really enables her to glare at Jesse's shoulder. It gets the full brunt of it, regardless.

'Brody, my nobody, is about to start a run on Broadway, I'll have you know.'

The look Jesse gives her is what Rachel has been fearing.

'Excuse me…he's got on to Broadway? That's…oh dear Rachel. What ever are you going to do now?'

Rachel doesn't know what to say to that, and certainly doesn't know how to deal with the pity in Jesse's eyes. She glances across the room, and spots Brody deep in conversation with Sam. Brody seems to sense her gaze after a moment, and looks over to her, giving her a questioning thumbs up. Rachel returns this brightly, even as her guts churn. Jesse glances backwards to catch the interaction, and grins smugly down at her.

'Who'd have thought that he'd be the success story?'

Someone turns the lights off at that moment, and the speakers seem to find an extra setting to accompany the dance music that starts thumping. Rachel hits Jesse's arm again, and mutters a 'fuck you' that was almost certainly unheard.

She doesn't feel like dancing.

Brody's nudging at her. Quinn untangles herself from Mike's hold, and turns to him, plugging a finger in her ear and yelling over the music.

'Hey, what's up?'

'You seen Rachel?'

'No…have you looked everywhere?'

'What?'

Quinn jerks a finger upwards.

'She'll be catching up with someone, somewhere quiet.'

'What?'

Quinn mimes two hands talking, and Brody nods understandingly.

'She does like talking.'

'Yeah.'

Brody's a good dancer. Nothing like Mike, of course, but he's a fun guy. Seems like a good guy too. She likes him. Considering how close Rachel came to marrying Finn, Brody's a raging success.

After a song, Quinn mimes a drinking sign, and Brody nods, accepting Kurt's arm around his neck and what looks like most of his weight.

Quinn's not drunk, because that never seems to work out too well for her, but things are definitely a little easier. Jokes that would never normally make her laugh seem hilarious, for example. The kitchen lights make her blink a little, and the dregs of whatever the hell Artie put in those bowls look deeply unappetizing. She reaches for a tumbler, and runs the kitchen tap for cold water.

As she fills up, out of the kitchen window Quinn spots the back of someone, sat alone on the edge of Brittany's patio. Sat alone wearing her blazer.

'Hey thief.'

Rachel blinks at her, uncomprehending, until Quinn reaches out to tug at the collar slightly, rearranging so that it sits properly. She grins down at her, and then remembers that people who are having a good time at a party don't tend to sit by themselves in the cold, and so adjusts her face.

'Can I sit down?'

Rachel nods carefully, and shuffles up a bit, so that they're both perched on a wall slightly too small for purpose. The light in the kitchen is still on, but the sky is black, so Rachel's face is completely in shadow, and her breath fogs around her. Quinn leans into her for a moment, and then tips her head back to look at stars.

'Good singing earlier by the way, you swung it for the girls.'

Rachel laughs, and then looks down at her hands for a moment.

'My finest hour.'

Quinn follows her gaze, and when her eyes adjust, realizes what Rachel is holding.

'Rachel Berry… is that a cigarette you are holding?'

Rachel glances at her, and waggles it between her fingers, shrugging her shoulders.

'Noah made it for me. I heard that these ones are less toxic. I've got his lighter too, but I seem to be incapable of actually smoking it… is there some kind of specialist technique to getting these things going? Because I'm failing.'

Quinn plucks it out of her fingers, and tries to examine it in the weak light they've got out here.

'I hear these are bad for voices.'

Rachel probably rolled her eyes at Quinn, at that point.

'Thanks for the newsflash, Sherlock.'

Quinn puts the cigarette to her lips, and holds out her hand for the lighter. 'I don't smoke any more, but I'm pretty sure that the method never leaves you… there. Your first smoke. The bit that isn't on fire goes between your lips.'

Rachel appears to drag deep, judging from the way she drops the cigarette and tries to cough up her lungs, two seconds later. Quinn laughs, and pats her on the back a few times, until Rachel emerges, still gasping.

'Oh my god it's disgusting, what, why do people even do that?'

Quinn bends to retrieve the cigarette, and takes a drag on impulse. Her lungs are out of practice, and she ends up coughing in sympathy, before reaching her hand down to stub it out carefully on the wall beneath them.

'Not sure really. Because people are stupid? I should be asking you really, you're the one who is trying it for the first time?'

Rachel glances at her for a long moment, and Quinn shivers abruptly, as the cold begins to bite. Rachel looks away again.

'Have you ever just really wanted to do something you know you shouldn't?'

Quinn scratches at the back of her head, awkward for reasons she can't name. 'Well, yeah, there's a half-removed Ryan Seacrest tattoo on my back in testament to that.'

Rachel snorts, and then leans her head on Quinn's shoulder.

'Yes, I'd heard about that. Makes a sneaky cigarette seem level-headed thinking, if you don't mind me saying.'

Quinn doesn't really, just nods and lets the moment continue for a bit. Part of her considers putting an arm around Rachel's shoulders, but seeing as Rachel is already wearing Quinn's blazer, she figures that she's already doing enough to keep Rachel warm.

Rachel sighs after a minute, and Quinn's cold enough to ask.

'Is this about Brody and Broadway again? Because you know how I feel about this; namely, you're wrong. And I am right.'

Rachel re-arranges herself for a second, and Quinn finds herself looking at Rachel, Rachel's face now, not her profile. The faint light catches her, and she looks… Quinn doesn't know what emotion is on Rachel's face, but it makes her ache, somehow.

'What if it isn't about Brody and Broadway? What if it's just Brody? Brody and me?'

Quinn doesn't even know why she chooses to glance at Rachel's lips at that moment. She just does. And when she looks back into Rachel's eyes she knows what going to happen next. She might even be the one to lean first. She can't be sure.

They kiss.

They… they're kissing.

Part of Quinn notes that Rachel doesn't seem to taste of smoke. A smaller part of Quinn reminds her that she had also taken a drag of the cigarette, so they'll both taste of smoke. An even smaller part suggests that it really is cold out here now.

The rest of Quinn concentrates on the fact that she and Rachel are kissing. And this is okay.

It's… Quinn thinks Rachel tilts her head.

God, she's so…soft. Quinn lets her hand reach for, she doesn't know what, but it finds Rachel's hand, resting awkwardly between their two hips. Their fingers link, and knot, and Rachel sighs into her mouth, and somehow it makes Quinn kiss her harder.

Rachel's lips part, and Quinn is aware that hers have followed suit, and she could spend time like this she thinks. Kissing Rachel. Kissing Rachel's bottom lip, which is…made for kissing, and just seems right, to be out here, freezing her ass off, kissing Rachel Berry.

It's….good. Quinn feels like she's unfurling, somehow, as though she's the sail and Rachel's the wind and the change in speed is coming, is inevitable.

There's a sound. The door handle. Quinn twists away, and she's sure that Rachel's craned her head around too, just in time to see Brody emerge.

'Oh Christ, there you are, I was getting worried. Hey Quinn, shit, Rachel, its freezing out here, what are you doing?'

Rachel stands next to her, leaving Quinn stumbling for first gear. 'Hi! Sorry, just needed some fresh air; you haven't been looking long, have you?'

Brody stretches out a hand, and Quinn watches as Rachel approaches him, takes his hand between both of hers. Brody makes an alarmed noise, and brings Rachel's hands up to his mouth to try and blow some warmth onto them.

'No, but maybe we should be leaving soon; your dads pretend they don't but they still stay up and worry about you.'

Rachel nods quickly. 'Okay, we should go. Now. We'll go now.'

Brody frowns for a moment at Rachel, and then glances at Quinn, who realizes that she is still sat on the wall like a moron.

'Are you coming in? Or staying out?'

Quinn doesn't really know if she manages sensible words. The next few moments involve Rachel saying goodbye to everyone, involve Quinn watching Rachel say goodbye to everyone, watching Rachel leave, watching the car disappear down the street.

She watches the party.

She decides to leave.

And fuck it if Rachel didn't end up stealing her blazer after all.