Author's Note: Set after Getting Crazy By the Bottom of the Bottle. The first April 1st after their wedding.
If I'm A Fool For Love
When I look into your eyes I see,
Everything I was meant to be.
If I'm a fool for love,
I don't care. I don't care.
~Fool For Love, Belinda Carlisle
It's a gorgeous spring day—one of the first after a long, dreary winter—but instead of being outside enjoying the beautiful weather, Rachel has to settle for the breeze from the open window. She's sprawled out on the sofa with a purring Oliver at her feet, perusing the new sheet music for the original show that she's currently work-shopping. So far, the new song that Zachary is adamant about including just isn't speaking to her at all.
"Rach, sweetie, do you have time to look over something for me?" Quinn asks as she glides into their living room.
Rachel hums distractedly as she rests the pages on her chest and tips her head back against the armrest to gaze up at her wife with a soft smile. When she sees an entirely different set of white pages gently grasped in Quinn's hand, she grins widely and scrambles into an upright position, letting the sheet music fall forgotten to the cushions as Oliver releases an annoyed mewl at the disturbance before letting his eyes drift shut once again.
"Gimme," Rachel demands, making grabby motions for the papers that Quinn is holding.
Quinn chuckles and shakes her head, holding them just out of Rachel's eager reach. "It's just a rough draft," she warns.
"I don't care. You've been in there typing at ungodly hours for the last two weeks instead of snuggling with me, and I'm dying to know what amazing world you're creating this time."
Quinn's second novel has been sitting pretty on the bestseller list for months now, and her agent is in talks with two studios that want the film rights. Rachel is so incredibly proud of Quinn and so happy that the rest of the world is sitting up and taking notice of her talent. They're both incredibly blessed to be able to do the things that they love (and make money doing them).
Quinn had taken a little break from outlining her next novel while she'd gone on her book tour, though she still hasn't given up the part-time copy-editing job that supplements her income, and last month, they'd finally gotten to take their belated, extended honeymoon. Not that Rachel hadn't enjoyed the three, blissful days they'd spent soaking up the sun in the Hamptons right after their wedding—or more precisely, taking full advantage of the bed at the upscale house they'd rented—but she'd hated not being able to give Quinn a proper honeymoon at the time, thanks to her obligations with Funny Girl. The three weeks that they'd spent bouncing from London to Paris and across the beautiful coastline in between had more than made up for their first, rushed attempt.
Now they're both back to work, which means that Rachel is spending the long, boring days locked in a rehearsal hall while Quinn is practically attached to her laptop, and Rachel has yet to read any of what she's been writing. It's driving her insane.
Quinn gazes down at her wife with barely concealed uncertainty as she nervously bites into her lower lip. "It's a little bit different," she cautions again.
"I like different," Rachel insists, making another grab for the pages—her fingertips grazing the edge of the still-warm paper.
Quinn smiles crookedly, sighing as she hands them over. "Here you go."
"Yay!" Rachel squeals excitedly, snatching them up and settling back on the sofa with her legs crossed beneath her as her eyes immediately move to the pages.
Quinn gingerly sits down beside her, displacing Oliver from his throne in the process. He grunts—Rachel has discovered that cats are apparently capable of doing that—and scurries out of the way until Quinn is settled before he plops himself down into her lap and demands to be petted.
Despite Quinn's warning, Rachel is expecting to read her wife's familiar, vivid writing style and be dragged into whatever fantastical world that Quinn has chosen to bring to life this time. Her first two novels had been grounded in realism, but colored with touches of fantasy that had given them just a little something extra to keep the reader engaged. As Rachel reads through the first paragraph, she realizes that more than the style is familiar. She's immediately introduced to a female protagonist named Lucille, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Quinn, and Rachel frowns a little. She'd thought that Quinn had moved away from the semi-autobiographical character traits after her first novel, but she keeps on reading with an open mind. About two thousand words into the introspective scene, Rachel's eyes snag on the name Rae as a second character enters the story, and her frown deepens as she recognizes too much of herself in the character. She's not certain exactly how she feels about this development, but she trusts Quinn, and she's never been disappointed with anything that she's written in the past, so she keeps reading. A few hundred words later, the two characters are—oh, they're doing that.
Rachel softly clears her throat, glancing over at Quinn surreptitiously.
"Do you not like it?" Quinn asks worriedly, fingers idly playing with Oliver's ear.
"Oh…oh, no," Rachel assures her with a strained smile. "It's just…when you said it was different, I wasn't expecting…um," she trails off.
Quinn's lips quirk into a teasing grin. "It's called a romance novel, Rach."
"Well, of…of course it is," she stutters. "Um…the…their names though?"
Quinn waves away her concern. "Oh, those are just tentative for now. Keep reading," she encourages. "I want your honest opinion."
Her honest opinion? What is she supposed to say to that? Well, baby, it's extremely well written as always, but you appear to be writing lesbian smut loosely based on us. Are you sure you want to give this to your editor? Rachel merely smiles and turns her eyes back to the page, scanning down over the words until she finds the place where she left off—with Rae ghosting her hands over Lucille's assets. And okay—it's undeniably stimulating, but she honestly can't believe that Quinn could even write this when she still occasionally has trouble talking about sex outside of their bedroom. And really? This scene feels vaguely familiar, like—well, it kind of reads like—wait!
"Lucy Quinn Fabray!" she growls as realization dawns on her. "How could you?" she demands, waving the pages around in agitation. "How could you turn our beautiful first time together into some cheap, pornographic fodder for your newest novel? This is…I can't believe you," she stammers, voice wavering as she clutches the pages to her chest. The memory of that perfect evening is still so fresh in Rachel's mind, even after all these years—the love shining in Quinn's eyes as she'd slowly stripped Rachel's dress away and caressed every inch of her. To read it on a page in Quinn's manuscript— "It…it's…"
"A really good April Fool's Day joke," Quinn finishes with a blossoming smile.
Rachel gapes at her in open-mouthed shock. April Fool's—?
Belatedly, she realizes that today is, in fact, the first of April. Her mouth snaps shut with a click of her teeth, and she glares at her wife. "You suck," she hisses, whacking Quinn over the head with the pages and watching her dissolve into uncontrollable giggles, shaking Oliver from his revelry and irritating him enough to finally jump to the floor and stalk away. "You really suck," she repeats, biting back her own laughter—because her ridiculous wife had actually written a good twenty pages just to play a practical joke on her. When Quinn commits to something, she really doesn't half-ass it.
"You should have seen your face," Quinn tells breathlessly.
Rachel tosses the pages onto the floor in exaggerated disgust, though she's feeling kind of tickled by the whole thing at this point. "I feel like sending those pages to Aileen and telling her it's what you're working on for your next book."
Quinn chuckles again, closing the scant distance between them and kissing Rachel's cheek. "She'll really think I've gone crazy when she gets to the end of the chapter and realizes that Lucille has a cock."
Rachel's eyes widen and her head snaps to the side to stare at Quinn. "She what?"
"Ten inches," Quinn confirms with a smirk. "Just in case you managed to make it through the first part without saying anything."
Rachel's eyebrows arch, and she can't help glancing back down at the pages on the floor, curiosity peaked. "Well, that's not very realistic," she mumbles, trying to wrap her mind around the image with a slight frown.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "That was kind of the point. I can't believe you honestly thought I'd try to have that published," she chastises, slipping an arm around Rachel's waist and snuggling closer.
"Well, you do have a talent with…that," Rachel teases, shifting around until she can melt into Quinn's arms. "Maybe we can recreate the scene," she purrs suggestively, brushing her lips across Quinn's, "minus the ten inch cock, of course."
Quinn grins against her lips. "Would you settle for the seven inch one in the little box in the bedroom?"
Rachel jerks her head back, eyeing Quinn skeptically. The one she's referring to is strapless, and Quinn never suggests using that one on her own. "This isn't another April Fool's joke, is it?"
"Scouts honor," Quinn promises, slipping her palm underneath Rachel's shirt.
"You were never a scout," Rachel reminds her.
Quinn catches Rachel's lower lips between her own, teasing it enticingly with her tongue before she says, "Tonight, I'll be anything you want me to be."
Rachel moans softly before she drags Quinn's mouth back to hers and into a sensual kiss. Their bodies slide down further on the sofa, and Rachel curves her palms over Quinn'sassets. She makes a mental note to snatch those pages back up and finish reading Quinn's smut—but much, much later, after she makes Quinn show her in exquisite detail how the scene ends. She may be a fool, but she's wise enough to take advantage of her wife whenever she can. And oh, baby, she's going to take advantage of her tonight.