Author's Note: Flclet set after Every Hour Has Come To This.

A Token of Tender Emotion

This tiny ring is a token of tender emotion,
An endless pool of love that's as deep as the ocean.
~She Wears My Ring, Elvis Presley

Rachel's opening night as Fanny Brice goes off without a hitch, and Quinn couldn't be prouder of her fiancée. Her fiancée. Butterflies take flight in her stomach at the thought, and her gaze automatically falls to the diamond ring on her finger. She drags her lower lip between her teeth in a hopeless attempt to stifle the giddy smile on her face. She's pretty much been useless all day today, unable to write a single word between the distraction of that ring catching the light to create a hypnotizing sparkle and the excitement of the last two days (and the exhaustion of thoroughly celebrating the last two days in very exuberant ways).

The fact that Rachel had delivered such an effortless and brilliant performance on so little sleep is actually pretty impressive. She has a matinee today that she'd dragged herself off to about an hour ago, and Quinn is supposed to be working on her novel, but she has to admit that it's probably a lost cause for the rest of the weekend—especially since she has a very important errand that she absolutely needs to run. In fact, if she can manage to drag her eyes away from this gorgeous ring for more than a few seconds at a time, she might actually be able to get it done today.

Sighing, she moves a very uncooperative Oliver off of her lap, ignoring his disgruntled mewl at being displaced after he'd obviously decided that Quinn had nothing better to do today than to be his personal cat bed. Then she has to change her clothes because her current ones are covered in cat hair. Once that's done, she grabs her purse and heads outside. It's a beautiful day, and she fully takes advantage of the cooperative weather as she walks the long blocks to Fifth Avenue before she turns and heads uptown, engaging in a little window shopping along the way.

Those familiar butterflies come back in a swarm when she reaches 57th Street, and she just stands outside for a moment, staring at the iconic storefront before she takes a deep breath and walks inside. This isn't something that she ever could have imagined doing as a little girl—well, she'd imagined shopping at Tiffany's of course, but not for this. She unerringly finds the display case because she's been in here several times before. Unsurprisingly, none of the salesclerks ever really bother to ask if they can help her unless she's looking at something they think she might be legitimately interested in or could actually afford. Seeing her browse the engagement rings alone has never seemed to set off any potential-sale arrows over her head, and that's been fine with her in the past, but today is different.

Quinn taps her nails on the counter for a few minutes, gazing around the store to notice that one of the clerks is currently helping another customer while the other is fussing with the watches in the next area, completely ignoring her. She determinedly steps over to woman, leaning against the counter as she clears her throat. "Excuse me."

The woman glances at her with eyes that quickly rake over her appearance—a modest, blue sweater topping designer jeans—and Quinn can almost see her assessing whether or not waiting on her with be worth her time. I'll be with you in a moment, ma'am," she responds disinterestedly.

Quinn bristles and she narrows her eyes, slipping naturally back into the arrogant, no-nonsense persona that had served her so well in high school and in the publishing business. "I think those watches can wait. Unless you think that I should take my business elsewhere."

The woman—Marian, according to her nametag—purses her lips, offering a thin smile, before she quickly stores the watches back underneath the counter. "How can I help you?"

Quinn grins in triumph, but then her confidence falters for just a moment under the onslaught of sudden nerves, and she licks her lips. "I'm looking for…an engagement ring."

If Marian is surprised by the request, her face doesn't betray it, but her gaze does drop to Quinn's left hand where her own ring is winking up at them, and her eyebrows lift slightly. "Are you returning that one in exchange?" she asks, nodding down.

Quinn reflexively covers her hand, oddly protective of her ring. "No. I want to buy another one. For my fiancée to wear," she answers with a smile.

"I see. Men's rings or women's?" Marian requests neutrally.

"Women's," Quinn tells her unabashedly.

Marian only nods. "Right this way," she instructs, moving along the display cases until they're back at the engagement rings. Quinn has to admit that she's mildly impressed at how completely unconcerned the woman seems with the fact that she's shopping for a ring for another woman. "Do you have a particular style already in mind? Perhaps a similar setting to yours? May I?" she requests, holding out a hand to indicate that she'd like a closer look at Quinn's ring.

Quinn offers her hand for inspection, and Marian tilts her head as she studies it. "Very nice. Your fiancée has exquisite taste," she compliments, and Quinn flushes with pleasure. "I actually sold a ring very similar to this one just last month," she murmurs, glancing up at Quinn with a thoughtful frown as she relinquishes her hand. "Your fiancée doesn't happen to have her face splashed all over several Broadway billboards right now, does she?" she asks a bit warily.

Quinn's lips curl into a smirk. "She might. Did you spend four and half hours making the sale?"

Marian's complexion pales noticeably before she swallows, laughing nervously. "Well, as long as you're pleased with it," she attempts with a questioning lilt at the end.

"Very much so," Quinn admits.

"Then why don't I show the rings that she seemed to be most attracted to while she was here. Perhaps we can expedite the process," Marian suggests hopefully.

Quinn flashes a smile. "I wouldn't count on that. But I would like to see the other rings that Rachel was looking at."

Marian sighs, nodding as she ducks under the counter to unlock the display. She removes two small trays and places them on the glass countertop. Quinn immediately sees the ring setting that she already had in mind, but she isn't about to tell Marian that and pass up the opportunity to look at all of this beautiful bling up close and in person. She might possibly still have a pretty wide materialistic streak in her.

Marian quickly points out two rings that Rachel had been drawn to but ultimately decided weren't right for Quinn. The first is a simple princess-cut solitaire, and the second is the one that Quinn has been eyeing—a round brilliant with two pear-shaped side stones. She silently rejoices at the revelation, but she stays calm and stoic on the outside as she continues to examine the cut, clarity, color, and carat weight of each diamond spread out before her. Her mother would be so proud.

Ultimately, it doesn't take four hours for Marian to make the sale. It takes a little less than two because Quinn questions everything from the accuracy of the carat size to the clarity to how quickly they can have it resized and whether or not that will ruin the setting. By the time they're finished, Quinn has a guarantee that she'll have the ring by Wednesday along with a small discount on the price. It's not much, but Quinn knows how to work a salesperson by demanding things that she can actually live without to make it seem like she's settling for what she really wants. She'd be happier walking out of the store with the ring in her pocket, but Rachel's odd ring-size makes that pretty much impossible.

The hardest part now is waiting.

Waiting—and not telling Rachel.

xx

Marian personally calls Quinn late Tuesday afternoon to tell her the ring is ready to be picked up, which is slightly annoying because she only has about forty minutes to get there before the store closes. She doesn't bother to change out of her track pants, grabbing her purse and hustling out of the apartment and uptown while everyone else is rushing to get home for the night. Marian doesn't comment on her mismatched outfit or short, messy ponytail when she enters the store, though Quinn can feel more than one set of judgmental eyes on her. She examines the ring thoroughly before she leaves, more than happy with her purchase.

She keeps a death grip on the box all the way back home, then darts around the apartment like a maniac as she tries to figure out where to hide it for the next twenty-four hours. She and Rachel might already be engaged, but she still wants to surprise her with the ring before she has to leave on her book tour. She's actually a little amazed that Rachel hasn't yet mentioned getting one for herself—Quinn pauses, considering for the first time that Rachel might not want to wear a ring.

"Well, screw that. She's wearing it," Quinn decides with fierce determination, despite those damned butterflies suddenly flittering around in a panic.

She pads to the kitchen with the box still in her hand, ducking down into the cabinet and depositing the box inside her Dutch oven. Despite Rachel's steadily improving kitchen skills over the last few years, she knows her ability hasn't progressed far enough to have her even attempting to touch that particular piece of cookware. The ring will only be hiding in there for a very short time anyway. She just has to keep Oliver from sneaking into the cabinet again. Honestly, she thinks they should just invest in some child-proof locks for their cat.

When Rachel finally comes home from the theatre, Quinn is calm and collected on the sofa where she's attempting to get some writing done. Rachel collapses into her side with a little whine. "I'm so tired," she complains, dropping her head onto Quinn's shoulder. "I could sleep for a week."

Quinn smiles and pats Rachel's thigh in sympathy. "You can rest tomorrow, but not all day. We have dinner reservations."

"We do?" Rachel asks sleepily, reaching down to cover Quinn's hand with her own and idly running the pad of her thumb back and forth over the diamond of Quinn's engagement ring. She's been doing that a lot, and Quinn turns her hand over to link their fingers together with a grin as she closes her laptop.

"We do. We're going to celebrate all of your glowing reviews and our engagement."

"Haven't we been celebrating those all week in private?" Rachel husks, turning her face to nuzzle against Quinn's neck.

"Which is probably why you're so exhausted," Quinn muses.

"Totally worth it," Rachel insists. "I just need to adjust to this schedule."

Quinn hums in agreement, knowing from past experience that Rachel typically does need at least two weeks to get accustomed to a new routine before her normal energy level returns—which, for Rachel, is borderline hyperactive. Leaning forward, she sets her laptop on the coffee table. "Come on, superstar. Let's get you to bed."

"Yes, please," Rachel agrees, allowing Quinn to pull her up from the sofa. She detours to the bathroom to complete an abbreviated version of her nightly cleansing ritual while Quinn turns down the bed, and when Rachel finally comes into the bedroom, she turns off the light and tucks herself into Quinn's side with a quietly mumbled, "G'night, baby."

Quinn sighs in contentment and closes her eyes, silently going over her plans for tomorrow as she drifts off to sleep.

xx

Their reservations at The River Café are for six-thirty, and the view of the skyline illuminating the twilight from the windows is absolutely amazing. Quinn probably would have suggested coming here even without the ring because they really haven't had the chance to share a nice, quiet dinner (that Quinn doesn't have to cook) since they'd gotten engaged, and they really do have a lot of things to celebrate. Rachel seems happy, despite grumbling a little about having to leave the apartment at all. They'd spent most of the day just relaxing—and other things not technically relaxing but still involving a bed—so this dinner really isn't an inconvenience at all.

Quinn can almost feel that little blue box burning right through the lining of her purse as they peruse their menus and place their orders. She debates about giving it to her now or waiting until dessert, but she's already waited all day and, frankly, her patience is just about gone. So when the waiter returns with their bottle of Chardonnay and pours them each a glass, Quinn reaches down and retrieves the box, holding it under the table with her left hand.

She lifts her wine glass with a soft smile and toasts, "To us."

Rachel smiles back at her, raising her own glass and gently touching it against Quinn's. "To us."

Quinn takes a quick sip, watching Rachel do the same over the rim of her glass as she slips her other hand onto the table and deposits the box between them.

Rachel sees it as she's putting her own glass back on the table, and Quinn sees her breath hitch slightly even as her brows furrow in mild confusion. "Quinn?" she questions uncertainly.

The corners of Quinn's lips tilt up. "Open it," she urges.

Rachel reaches out and takes the box between her fingers, sliding it closer to her body before she slowly lifts the lid and stares down into the box.

"I know it's a little anticlimactic at this point," Quinn admits quietly, nervously fiddling with the ring on her own finger, "but Rachel, you made me so happy when you asked me to be your wife, so now I'm asking you to be mine." Rachel's gaze flies back to hers then, and Quinn smiles. "Will you marry me and share my forever?" she asks, echoing Rachel's proposal back to her.

"You bought me a ring," Rachel whispers dumbly, glancing back down at the box again.

Quinn laughs a little, nodding. "Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," Rachel breathes reverently, finally freeing the ring from the box with trembling fingers. She looks up at Quinn with glistening eyes. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did," Quinn disagrees, reaching across the table to take Rachel's hand. "So will you?" she prompts again. "Will you make me even happier than I already am by wearing my ring?"

Rachel bites into her lower lip, stifling her smile. "I don't know. I'm not really big on jewelry," she lies.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Rachel," she warns playfully.

Rachel laughs, turning Quinn's hand over and pressing the ring into her palm. "You have to do it properly," she demands as she holds out her left hand with her fingers spread. "Put it on me."

Quinn shakes her head, holding the ring between her fingers. "You know, you haven't actually said yes yet," she reminds Rachel.

"But you said yes to me last week, and there are no take-backs," Rachel counters, wagging her fingers impatiently.

Quinn shrugs. "Actually, the salesclerk was kind enough to explain the return policy in great detail." She smirks at the memory. "For some reason, she thought you might be hard to please."

"Quinn," Rachel growls in annoyance.

"Rachel, sweetheart," Quinn purrs with a teasing grin. "Just say yes."

Rachel softens under her gaze. "Yes, Quinn. Yes, I'll marry you and share your forever, and I will absolutely, very proudly, wear your ring. As soon as you actually put it on me," she adds in challenge.

Quinn smiles sweetly, taking Rachel's outstretched hand and carefully sliding the ring into place, relieved when it fits perfectly. She lifts Rachel's adorned hand to her lips and presses a brief kiss to the knuckles in front of the ring. "Thank you," she murmurs.

"You're thanking me?" Rachel asks laughingly as she pulls her hand back to admire the diamond. "Quinn, this ring is absolutely gorgeous." She leans across the table, dropping her voice to a sexy murmur. "If you'd given this to me at home, I could have thanked you for it properly."

"You can thank me later," Quinn promises huskily. Right now, the smile on Rachel's face and the sparkle of the ring on her finger is all that Quinn really needs to make this moment absolutely perfect.