Fic: Silver Wings & Golden Rings
Title: Silver Wings & Golden Rings
Author: Frensayce
Rating: G
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Spoilers: Everything?
Disclaimers: Not mine.
Summary: Love Enough flashback.
A/N: Fluff! Unbeta'd fluff! So fluffed and unbeta'd-y!
Quinn was nervous. Very nervous. So nervous that her leg wouldn’t stop moving. It kept springing up and down, higher and higher each time as though its goal was hitting the ceiling above. The speed of its bounce was sedate compared to her heart. It hammered against her ribcage, sending blood and terror racing through her veins. Is this what a heart attack felt like? She hoped not. She was too young to die. And she had things to do first.
The rumble of the train zipping along the track became white noise, droning the lullaby of Manhattan. It did nothing to soothe her. The bright lights of the train car weren’t helping either. She’d been on edge for nearly thirty-six hours and what little calm came in the reprieve of today’s adventures abandoned her about fifteen minutes ago when the reality of her situation sank in. The body next to hers jittered like a chipmunk on crack.
Quinn’s knee had nothing on Rachel. The girl was full of energy and running on an adrenaline high since this morning’s departure from her and San’s apartment on Mulberry Street. They barely slept last night, caught up in bed celebrating the end of Yale’s final exams and the pre-med’s week-long visit before she returned to New Haven for summer courses. She was on the fast track and projected to graduate by the end of the calendar year instead of next spring. This coming summer would be their last spent “apart” and then she’d be free-free to be with Rachel. For the rest of her life. God willing. She just had to get through this train ride. When they’d gotten to the subway station, Rachel had been so in her own world of excitement she hadn’t noticed it was the wrong one, meaning they’d boarded the wrong train. Intentionally. Because Quinn had a plan. It wasn’t the greatest plan-not by far-but it was the best she could come up with on short notice. Because she was a moron who let the idea run away with her earlier this week. Although this day together had been scheduled for a while, this last thing was kind of her eleven o’clock number.
Rachel did it. She made it on Broadway. Since coming to New York she’d gotten leads in small productions so far off Broadway they were in Timbuktu, as well as ensemble parts in more well know shows closer to the Great White Way. Now she’d won the role of a lifetime in the much anticipated revival of her favorite musical of all time: Fanny Brice in Funny Girl.
She smiled, hearing the flouncy girl next to her prattle on about the unfairness of Funny Girl opening after the nomination deadline for the Tony Awards, but how the motivated starlet would persevere and give them a year to see her talent and how much she deserved one of those little mounted golden medallions. This loud, obnoxious, ambitious, unstoppable force from Lima, Ohio was on the brink, ready to take the whole world by storm. And Quinn would do anything she could to keep her girl’s dream alive. She owed her that, and she couldn’t be more proud of the blossoming actress. Rachel Berry was on her way.
Today had been planned once the petite woman’s agent told her the Funny Girl billboard’s debut date in Times Square. Instead of heading there directly, they’d traversed the city like tourists, seeing some things they hadn’t the time for during Quinn’s previous trips from Yale but mostly revisiting their favorites. Smiling and laughing, they’d spent the day carefree and playful. It started with a giant fruit bowl shared for breakfast at Pinkberry near Rachel and San’s apartment. They’d gotten smoothies to go and walked the ten minutes to the Tenement Museum on Orchard for a guided tour. Which had been depressing and humbling and made Quinn so grateful for all the things she and Rachel had both growing up and now, and the things they’d have in the future. Yes, she was destined to be a doctor with mountains of school debt, but she had faith that she’d be able to provide for Rachel, to give her a good and stable life in case Broadway didn’t work out.
But honestly, that was impossible. Broadway was created because some ancient prophet foresaw Rachel’s coming. That was the only explanation. She was like the Messiah of live theatre or something.
After that a happier mood set in at the Hester Street Fair, and an espresso from Café Grumpy gave the blonde a much needed boost before they hopped the M15 bus toward Battery Park. They walked the esplanade, taking their time and enjoying the nice weather and fantastic views, from the horizon sights to the promenade itself with the gardens and art along the way. Her favorite was the unofficial artwork of a stretch of sidewalk covered in children’s chalk drawings. Rachel, of course, loved the musically themed pieces. She ran her hands over the giant lute of Resonating Bodies and pogoed like a Dance Dance Revolution champion on the interactive Dance Chimes, making her own beautiful music and Quinn laugh out loud. That led to a lunch of vegan Indian food from the NY Dosas restaurant cart next to Washington Square Park. Coconut chutney was a new experience but so good with her spicy samosas and vegan drumsticks. They’d eaten in the park, stealing each other’s food then giving in and feeding one another like two stupid people in stupid love. All while watching the weird part and parcel of the park: someone beating a Steinway piano to death and calling it music, a hilariously failed attempt at a flash mob, then finally good musicians gathering on the grass and just creating beautiful sounds or playing the stereotypical hippie tunes.
Rachel sang along to some. Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised her girlfriend knew Bob Dylan songs.
Once the street musicians in the park dispersed, the girls strolled along Greenwich Avenue to the flower market in Chelsea and its inflated prices for mediocre bouquets. She grinned, thinking of the custom arrangement she’d already had sent to the girls’ ultimate destination. It’d been expensive but would hopefully worth it once Rachel saw it. Otherwise she refused to pay back Santana’s itsy bitsy and unspecified loan she didn’t know she gave Quinn. Yet.
From there they took the E line toward 30 Rockefeller Plaza for the spectacular view from the Top of the Rock Observation Deck. The city was mindboggling and impressive if people took the time to slow down and see it. She’d almost done it then, and it’d taken every crumb of resolve not to reach for the velvet box in her purse. Strength of will won out and she simply held the shorter girl, keeping herself in check. Night fell and eagerness conquered. They all but ran to Times Square, itching to see the billboard with Rachel’s beautiful face on it illuminate for the first time. It was magnificent. They’d grabbed some stranger to take a few photos of the two of them then Quinn almost packed her camera’s memory card with images of just Rachel and her name in lights on the corner of Broadway and West 47th Street. Duffy’s Square never looked better.
Now they were back on the subway. Rachel thought they were heading home; Quinn knew better. The train slowed and the blonde gently nudged her girlfriend. “Come on, babe. We’re here.”
Rachel smiled and followed with skipping footsteps, swinging their clasped hands back and forth. Quinn dragged her along with a hesitant smile, wondering how long until the animated woman noticed the ride had been far too short for them to be home yet.
“Umm, Quinn?” Rachel squeezed her hand, stopping them on the sidewalk of 42nd Street. “This isn’t the right stop.”
Of course it wasn’t, they weren’t even on the right subway line. They were at Grand Central Station. The blonde’s hand squeezed back and led Rachel through the entrance of the famous terminal.
“I’ve got to do something real quick.” The even coolness of her voice was a lie and her stomach knotted and rolled and fluttered and everything else it did when someone’s uneasiness took over. She could do this.
“What could you possibly have to do? It’s after business hours and you already have your ticket back to New Have-oh! Are you thinking about changing it? Do you want to leave sooner? I understand if you want some extra time to prepare for your summer semester, but I hoped you’d stay the whole week…”
Rachel carried on while Quinn navigated down the Grand Concourse. First looking overhead and seeing the painted night sky on the ceiling then all around her, she double checked their path. Tracks 39 through 42 ahead to the far left corner? Check. Biltmore Passage? Check. She paused. Across the way from the Starbucks? Check. Letters carved into the shiny marble actually spelling “The Biltmore Room”? Big check. This was the spot. The Kissing Room. Knowing Rachel was about to ask more questions, Quinn reached into her purse and pulled out the telltale box, not so casually holding it out to Rachel’s gaze. She had a question of her own.
Rachel didn’t move, and only the flare of her nostrils indicated she breathed. Then she spoke, the words cracking in her throat. “What’s that?”
The blonde knew her girlfriend knew what it was. She couldn’t resist being a smart ass, however. “A box.”
Quinn took hold of Rachel’s shaking hand and placed the velvet cube in her palm. The diva handled it with drama and timidity as if it were a bomb only she could diffuse but didn’t know which wire to cut. Then she inhaled deeply and opened it.
Inside were two rings. Chosen in what she hoped Rachel would like best. Matching ones with gold bands and a modest, round cut gemstone in a six-pronged setting with six miniscule jewels on either side. That main stone wasn’t her first choice, but she couldn’t afford the diamond Rachel deserved. Even though it’d never be accepted based on principle.
The loquacious brunette hadn’t said anything. Quinn couldn’t take the silence.
“They’re not diamonds,” she blurted, cringing. Because she needed to look like more of an idiot, not even getting down on one knee. Trembling muscles and a wave of nausea told her that’d be a bad idea, she needed two feet on the ground lest she collapse in a panic, and every passing second with no words from Rachel Berry was another twist in Quinn’s stomach.
“I know you don’t like diamonds because of the exploitative nature of their mining and how inhumane and environmentally unfriendly it is. They’re not synthetic ones, either because-” because she was a poor college student who’d be paying back academic and personal loans until she had a foot in the grave. “Anyway, they’re white sapphires. And the little ones are only cubic zirconia so, you know, don’t get too excited.” She tried for a smile, but it fell short.
Rachel wasn’t looking at her.
Had she screwed up? Misread their entire relationship? In her fear, her mouth kept moving.
“There’re two because I always thought it was weird and unfair for one person to wear a ring while the other didn’t and could go off and pretend to be single for a night or something if they wanted, like they didn’t belong to somebody. And I don’t want to do that. Because I belong to somebody-to you. I’m yours and I want the world to know that as much as I want them to know you’re mine. If that’s okay. And,” she swallowed, not liking this addendum, but saying it regardless. “And if that’s not okay or this is too fast or just isn’t something you want at all then it’s okay to say no and I won’t be hurt-well, I will a little bit-but I won’t leave unless you want me to, I’ll still be yours. For as long as you want me. And for forever after that.”
Teary rivulets cut down Rachel’s cheeks, leaving a shine to her honey-brown complexion as Quinn continued blathering like a fool. Why couldn’t she shut up? It was like she forgot how. And not seeing those chocolate colored orbs only made it worse. Why wouldn’t she look at her?
“Maybe, umm…” she sniffled, not liking the tingle stinging her own eyes. “Maybe this wasn’t the best place to do this, huh?”
What had she been thinking? Proposing in a train station on a Friday night while scads of people hurried about? She should explain, yeah? Yeah, probably. This made so much sense in her head. Now she was terrified she’d gone crazy.
“I wanted you to see your…options?...I guess. Or possibilities?” Her fingers pulled at themselves as if that would quell the anxiety roiling though her.
“This is the epicenter, Rach. From here people go all over the world, you know? They come and catch a train that whisks them away wherever or get off a train and get taxis to airports to go to other cities or countries, passing the people who are doing the same thing in reverse. What I mean is…it’s the first or last stop for millions of people going all over the world. I know you’ve kinda gone all over with the touring companies but you’re meant for more than that. You can go anywhere, Rachel. I’ve always thought that. Even when it didn’t seem that way.”
Another tear fell. She wished to wipe it away, cupping the girl’s cheek and revel in the way Rachel always leaned in to her hand. But she didn’t, unsure because those doe eyes she adored fixed solely on the jewelry box.
“I’ll never hold you back, Rachel. I won’t be that person. Not ever. But I will be waiting. Wherever you go and whenever you come back, I’ll be here.” She glanced around. “Obviously not here here because I’m trying to be metaphorical because metaphors are important to you. What I mean is I want you to go as far as you can, baby. And if ever I can’t go with you, then know that I’ll be here. Waiting at the turnstile, so to speak.”
Rachel’s tears fell harder and Quinn’s joined them, but quieter. Journeying all over Manhattan in a single day, seeing so many things at a nonstop pace, exhausted both women. She shouldn’t have done this. Today was about celebrating Rachel’s triumph and big stage debut in a leading role, and she’d just gone and messed it up by proposing to her girlf-
“Yes.”
Fiancée.
It was her turn for silence. Dumbness, more exactly. Her stomach threatened revolt and her brain refused to let her believe the trickery of her ears.
Brown eyes stared at her, expectant.
“Quinn?”
The formally articulate blonde sputtered in surprise. “But…I mean… but I didn’t ask yet. I didn-”
“Marry me, Quinn.” Now it was Rachel who teetered on the verge of hyperventilating. “I answered your proposal now answer mine.”
“Yes.”
Instantaneous. Determined. Joyful. She grinned, no longer noticing the tears streaming her own face. Rachel smiled at her like she’d never seen before, a smile bright enough to light Quinn’s whole world and pull her from the darkness of heartache and uncertainty forever.
They were in each other’s arms, embracing in front of a forgotten cliché within Grand Central Terminal, kissing and crying like fools. Eventually they parted for air and Rachel held the open box between them.
“Which one’s yours?”
Quinn wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. The ring she was supposed to wear? Or the one for Rachel? She went with the latter. Picking up the ring sized to the brunette, she took the smaller girl’s left hand and slid it on the appropriate finger. She turned the hand over and pressed a kiss to Rachel’s palm before meeting her lips again.
“This one. This one is mine, for you. Because you’re mine.”
With a watery smile, Rachel took the other ring and did the same, placing it on Quinn’s finger then drawing her in for a kiss that rocked her to the core. She kissed back with everything she had to give, because every piece of her belonged to the woman in her arms.
“Yours,” Rachel said, breathless. Her gaze searched Quinn’s. “Mine?”
Quinn nodded vigorously, green eyes gleaming. “Only yours.”
Their kisses continued until the open display of their affection grew unfit for public viewing. Releasing full lips, Quinn rested their foreheads together while the tips of their noses met in tiny “eskimo kisses”. She whispered against a kiss-swollen mouth, “I have a surprise for you.”
“Are you serious?” Rachel tilted back, her fingers yet dancing along Quinn’s nape. “Because I fail to see how anything you have planned could possibly top this.” She sighed, leaning up for another kiss which was given freely.
“I got us a room.” The words bolted from her mouth and fair cheeks burned with bashfulness. From the darkening of Rachel’s eyes, however Quinn’s embarrassment was unfounded.
“Where?”
“The Carlyle.”
Because thanks to the good Doctor Lopez, Princess Santana had a sky-high limit on her credit card, unlike Quinn.
“Three nights in a deluxe room plus a couple’s package at the hotel’s Sense Spa.”
San was going to be so pissed when she discovered her American Express card was missing. Not as pissed as she’d be once the bill came, though. A minute amount of guilt niggled at her conscience. Their friend had packed a bag for Rachel and had it, along with Quinn’s still packed travel suitcase, sent to their reserved room while they spent the day frolicking about the city, nicely not asking questions about how she was affording this because Quinn’s financial means were obviously not too great. She was really going to owe her after this. But she’d worry about that later.
“There may or may not be champagne and strawberries waiting for us, too.” The concierge didn’t need to know Rachel was only twenty.
Rachel stepped back in shock then nearly wrenched the blonde’s shoulder from its socket, storming down the hall by the shuttle passage and out the door to the taxi stand on the corner of 42nd Street and Vanderbilt Avenue. With her free right hand, she made something like the “O.K.” sign and brought her fingers to her mouth, blowing out a piercing whistle. It was completely pointless because there were cabs all around. But it was hot as all get out.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Quinn said, flabbergasted. She lost her footing while Rachel yanked open the door to one of the newer vanette taxicabs. “Why didn’t I know you can do-”
“Get in the damn car, Quinn.”
She did, thanks to a firm shove from the petite woman climbing in behind her and telling the driver their destination. “God you’re bossy.” It was half teasing, half serious.
Rachel didn’t reply right away. Instead, she seated herself in Quinn’s lap and weaved nimble fingers through blonde hair. “You just asked me to marry you, Quinn. It’s a little late to complain about my overbearing-and yes, sometimes domineering-personality and need for validation and compliance from others in my life. You of all people should know it’s better to surrender to my demands rather than fight me on certain topics.”
Grinning, she slid her hands around the brunette, gliding a little lower than what was considered polite. “And you should know by now that will never happen.”
They were both too stubborn.
Rachel stared at her, stroking her cheek. The air between them changed from impassioned and hurried to comfortable and leisurely. Gentle lips found Quinn’s, just for a moment before breaking away again. “That’s kind of why we work, huh?"
Quinn smiled. The smile that naturally overran her features every time she fell more in love with this woman. The smile that was for Rachel and Rachel alone.
“Kind of.”
They melted back into each other, giving and taking and sharing kisses as the smart, shiny yellow and slightly toffee-nosed looking Nissan Evalia coasted up Madison Avenue toward Manhattan’s most lavish Art Deco hotel while two well-educated, poised, disciplined, modest, modern and Manhattanized young women rode in the backseat…making out like the foolish, idiotically in love girls from backwater Allen County, Ohio they still were deep down. Quinn didn’t see that ever changing.