Make My Heart Come All Undone 4/4
Title: Make My Heart Come All Undone
Chapter: 4/4
Pairing: Mike/Quinn
Word Count: 5,740
Summary: AU He knew he liked Quinn before. She's beautiful and sweet, and he was completely enamored with her. Now that he knows her just a little bit, he's sort of dying to spend more time with her. (This follows Just To See You Go By.)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Knowing about Quinn's past - even just the tiny bit that she was willing to tell him - makes a few of the things that she's said and done in the few months that they were together make a lot of sense. Specifically, the way that she wanted to wait to have sex. He understands, as well as he figures any guy can, that what she went through means that she takes sex seriously. Some of the seemingly offhanded comments she's made about making mistakes and disappointing her parents suddenly take on a whole new meaning.
He does the math and realizes that if she had a baby when she was sixteen, that child is around nine years old, the same age as the kids in Quinn's class. If she's still visiting this girl twice a year, she must have some relationship with her, some attachment, and seeing all of those kids every day...
God, he wishes that she would have talked to him about this instead of doing what she did.
*
Mike doesn't really want to talk about what happened. He just wants to go to work, do his job, and go home. While other guys might decide to get wasted or talk shit about the girl or whatever, Mike's prone to wallowing in his misery.
He has a little bit of hope that she'll show up at the cafe on Monday to tell him something, anything. But when Mike takes his first break and Quinn hasn't shown up for her skim latte, no foam, Matt asks about her.
"Pretty sure she isn't coming," Mike says, staring at the door and willing someone - anyone - to walk in and end this conversation.
"I thought she was supposed to get back on Friday."
It never fails. When you're trying to finish something or have a conversation someone, that's when someone has to come in and order something. When you're bored and doing nothing - or desperately trying to avoid talking about getting dumped - there isn't a customer in sight.
"She did," Mike answers.
Matt doesn't have anything else to do, so he leans against the back counter and looks at Mike. "What happened?"
Mike shrugs his shoulders, turning back to the front counter and wiping it with a damp cloth even though it's already clean. "She came over and told me that we were done. I don't know why," he lies. What happened in Quinn's past isn't any of Matt's business, and even if it was, Mike doesn't know how he would go about explaining that she broke up with him because she had a baby almost ten years ago. He can't make much sense of it for himself, let alone for someone else.
"That sucks, man," Matt says sincerely. "I know you really liked her."
Saying that Mike liked her implies that he used to like her, in the past, instead of still liking her today. Which he does. Hell, he loves the girl, and really wishes that she would talk to him about this. But she told him to leave her alone, so unless she comes to him, that isn't going to happen.
"Yeah."
*
Even though it's been weeks since Quinn dumped him, Mike is depressed.
Not clinically, seriously depressed, but depressed like a guy who got dumped by the girl he's in love with. Even grocery shopping, which is usually one of his favorite things to do, does nothing to pull him out of his funk. If anything, it makes it worse, because he can't help thinking about the day when he first learned her name, when she smiled at him instead of being totally freaked out by how awkward he was.
He's totally that guy. He'd be embarrassed if anyone else knew, but he's certainly not going to tell.
When he gets a call from Tadd asking if Mike would be interested in dancing in the music video he's choreographing for some Disney pop kid who's trying to get out from under her good girl image, he doesn't even think before he says yes. It's filming over three days in New York, but Mike figures a week back in the city that he called home for four years - a week away from all the stuff that's making him think of Quinn - sounds pretty good.
Mike ignores the knowing look he gets from Matt when he's telling Jackson, the cafe owner, about his plans at work the next morning. It's easy enough to get someone to cover the classes he's scheduled to teach at the dance studio. He's crashing on Tadd's sofa bed, so all he has to do is book a flight and pack.
Being back in New York does feel a lot like coming home. There's just something about this city that's different than any other, something that he never realizes he misses until he's back and feels it all over again. He drops his stuff at Tadd's place - the guy's at work, but Mike still has the key on his ring from when he lived here almost five years ago; it's kind of insane when he thinks about it - and heads straight to the pizza place down the block.
It's nice, he thinks when he's walking through his old neighborhood, to be away from some of the things that remind him of Quinn.
Then he turns the corner and sees a children's bookstore where there used to a big and tall men's clothing shop and that goes all to hell.
He's too busy with rehearsal and filming to really think about it, honestly, which is a blessing. It's nice to have three days of nothing to think about but the music and the movement and, at one point, how to make it look like he's touching this singer in borderline-inappropriate ways without actually being inappropriate. (Why he was chosen to be that guy is beyond him, but they get it figured out in a way that doesn't make him feel like he's a creeper.) He's too tired when he gets back to Tadd's place to do much besides pull out the sofa bed he's sleeping on and pass out.
The day after he finishes shooting on the music video, he meets Rachel for a late lunch. She nearly knocks him down when she launches herself at him outside of the restaurant, laughing against his shoulder as he struggles to keep them both upright and off their asses on the sidewalk.
Mike met Rachel Berry at a party during his freshman year of college, and they've been friends ever since. Well, if you don't count the brief detour their friendship took when they tried dating, broke up, and didn't talk for the entire summer after their sophomore year when she went to spend the summer back home. They don't talk all that often, but they make a point of seeing each other whenever they're in the same city, and when they hang out, it's always like the last time they were together was yesterday. She's the kind of girl you don't realize that you miss until you're hanging out with her, then you wish that she was around all the time.
She's also stupidly easy to talk to, because when she says, "Tell me what's new with you," he opens his big mouth and tells her all about Quinn. He tells her everything, from all that time when she was coming in the cafe and he didn't know her name to the way she broke up with him. He even tells Rachel about the baby thing, because it's not like she's ever going to meet Quinn, and maybe she can help him make sense of what that has to do with him.
"I just don't know what I did," he finishes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Rachel has already put her fork down and is just sitting there, watching him and listening to him talk about this girl.
"Unless you're omitting details to make yourself look better," Rachel says softly, "I don't think that you did." Mike blinks at her. "Sometimes, 'it's not you, it's me,' isn't just a bullshit excuse. Maybe going home dredged up issues for her, and then she connected them to you."
"That sucks."
Rachel laughs. "We all do it to some extent. We go into new relationships with baggage from the old ones, and the new person we're with is forced to deal with them along with us." She picks up her fork and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe she'll come around."
Mike sighs, looking out the window beside them at the street for a moment before turning back to Rachel. "There isn't anything I could do about it even if she hadn't told me to leave her alone, is there?"
"I don't think so," she answers softly, looking sad when she says it.
He feels a little bit better about the whole thing having talked about it, however weird that is. It still feels like shit, frankly, but at least he's gotten it all out in the open a little. It's like now that he's said it all aloud and had someone else tell him that he didn't do anything wrong with Quinn, maybe he'll be able to start getting over her.
*
"Quinn started coming in again last week."
It's the first thing Matt says when Mike gets to the cafe on his first morning back after his New York trip, before he's even gotten the back door closed behind him.
It's too early for his heart to do this flipping thing in chest.
"Okay."
Matt's eye widen slightly. "Okay?" Mike shrugs, going to grab an apron off the hook on the wall. "Dude, you've been moping around because of her for like, a month, and 'okay?'"
"New York was good, thanks," Mike says sarcastically, turning to face Matt when he slips his apron over his head. "I think the video's going to be good too, but no, I don't know when it's going to be released yet." Matt rolls his eyes. "Look, Quinn told me to leave her alone. If she's coming here again, it's just about coffee."
He leaves Matt standing there shaking his head, walking out into the front of the cafe and pulling chairs down off the tables even though there are a bunch of things he should do first. He just needs for Matt not to be looking at him like he's supposed to be doing or saying something about the fact that Quinn has started coming back to the cafe. Because however much Mike would like it if it meant that she wanted him back in her life, he can't let himself think like that.
It's about skim lattes, no foam. It isn't about him.
He's not trying to watch the door, but he looks up every time it opens, which means that he sees Quinn the second she comes in. She's wearing a cerulean blue dress with a brown leather belt, and her hair is straight and a few inches shorter than it was when he saw her last. The only thing in her hands is her wallet, just like always, and he can see that she's painted her nails the color of coral. She's so, so pretty.
He takes it all in in a glance, then turns his attention back to the dry whole milk cappuccino he's making.
"Hey, Quinn," Matt greets when she gets up to the register, holding out his hand for her money without even telling her the price. He never does.
"Hi, Matt." Mike makes the mistake of looking up at her when he reaches for the cup to make her latte, and she catches his eye. "Did you have a good trip?"
"I did," he answers simply, ignoring the way his heart is pounding. "Thanks."
She says thank you with a polite smile when he hands her her drink, then turns and walks away leaving Mike to make two large Americanos while he tries to stop thinking about how green her eyes look when she does her eye makeup like that.
*
Quinn told Mike to leave her alone, and Mike respects that. Even though she's coming to the cafe every morning again, he's not initiating conversation with her, however much he wants to ask her about how summer school is going and whether or not she ever tried that strawberry cupcake recipe that she'd been so excited about not long before everything fell apart. Matt makes some comment about regression and history repeating, but Mike pretends that he doesn't hear it and keeps his eyes on the pitcher of milk he's steaming instead of watching Quinn walk out the front door of the cafe.
Matt isn't entirely wrong though. It feels a lot like six months ago, when he was still so sure that he was going to stumble over his words that he was half-afraid to talk to her. He's anticipating seeing her every day just like he did then, though he thinks he's hiding it better this time around.
He's not so sure about history repeating though. Their conversations are brief and polite and nothing more. She isn't flirting with him or even really acting like they know each other at all. It's almost impressive, the way that she can be so casual and impersonal with someone she's had sex with.
Mike just follows her lead.
He's in the back Thursday morning after the rush ends, pulling a tray of double-chocolate chip cookies from the oven when Matt calls his name. He sets the tray on the cooling rack (which isn't the way it's supposed to be done, but whatever) and heads back out front.
He's a little surprised when he sees Quinn's friend Sam standing there at the counter.
"Hey," he greets simply, ignoring the questioning look he gets from Matt when he steps up to the counter. "What's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Sam says, cutting right to the chase. "Can you take a break or something?"
He makes Sam an iced Americano and pours a raspberry lemonade for himself, then they step outside onto the front patio to sit at a table in the sunshine.
"Quinn screwed up," Sam says without preamble, and Mike's glad that he wasn't trying to take a drink. He might have choked. "She was like, totally falling for you, and she screwed up when she broke up with you."
Mike doesn't say anything. He wouldn't know what to say. He thinks Sam is working towards something here though, so he just waits, taking a quick sip of his lemonade.
"She's been in this funk ever since, and I finally got her to admit that it's because she shouldn't have dumped you."
Mike doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that. Maybe there are guys who would feel vindicated or something, knowing that the girl who dumped him feels like shit about it, but Mike doesn't want Quinn to feel bad.
"I don't know what you want me to say, man," he admits to Sam. "She told me to leave her alone, and that's what I've been doing."
Sam takes a sip of his drink and nods. "Yeah, that was another screw up." Mike grins in spite of himself and watches Sam lean forward a little. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle of anything, but I hate seeing her mope around because she's too proud or stupid or whatever to admit that she messed up and wants you back." He sighs and picks up his drink, shaking it gently so the ice rattles against the inside of the cup. "Quinn doesn't want you to leave her alone."
"But she sai--"
Sam cuts him off. "She started coming back here, right?"
Sam obviously already knows the answers, so Mike doesn't say anything. He does, however, wonder what exactly Quinn has said about it.
Sam pushes his chair back away from the table, the wrought iron scraping against the sidewalk loudly. "I'm not going to tell her that I came here, so if you choose not to do anything, that's your deal," he says, looking at Mike seriously. He lets the words hang there for a minute, then nods his head and turns to walk to his car, leaving Mike sitting there.
"What was that about?" Matt asks when Mike comes back into the cafe.
Mike doesn't feel like making up some stupid story, so he just says, "Quinn," while he pulls his apron back over his head and ignores all of Matt's probing questions that don't end for the rest of the afternoon.
*
"I'm going to work register," Mike tells Matt the next morning just before they open the front door. Matt blinks once and nods, and Mike busies himself with choosing which color of Sharpie he wants to use this morning so he doesn't have to see the looks Matt's giving him from his place behind the espresso machine.
He reaches for a small cup as soon as he sees Quinn walk through the front door, marking it - skim latte, no foam - with his orange Sharpie even though Matt knows what she drinks just as well as he does. "Good morning," he greets simply when the guy in front of her in line finishes ordering and she steps up to the counter.
She smiles softly, handing him the exact change to pay for her latte. "Good morning."
"How's summer school going?" he asks, keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he sorts the change she handed him into the appropriate compartments in the register. There isn't anyone in line behind her, so he isn't holding anyone up.
"Really good," she answers. "I have thirteen kids, and my main focus is reading comprehension."
"One more week, right?"
He sees the way her eyes soften. "Right."
Matt doesn't say anything when he finishes making her drink, just slips the little cardboard sleeve on it and slides it across the counter to her with a nod. "Well," Mike says, watching her pick it up. "Have a good day."
"Thank you." She looks almost like she wants to say something else, but instead she turns and walks to the door, holding it open for the woman who comes in just as Quinn is going out.
Matt nudges him once she's gone but doesn't say anything. Mike is still grinning when the new customer gets to the counter to place her order.
*
As much as Mike hated it when Matt brought it up, the next week and a half is like history repeating itself. Even though he knows her name now, he and Quinn are interacting with one another the same way that they did back when he first noticed her, when he had that stupid crush on her and wanted to get to know her but didn't really know how to go about doing it. This time around, he knows her better, so he has a little more to work with, but it's a lot of the same stuff.
On Monday, he asks her if she had a good weekend. When she says yes, he asks how the team fared at trivia on Sunday night, and she's smiling when she tells him about the hula hoop question that no other team got correct.
On Tuesday, he mentions the release of a movie that's based on a book that he knows she's read. She says she's torn, because she wants to see it, but films based on books are almost always disappointing. Mike agrees, and they throw out a couple of titles - Fight Club, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Marley and Me - that didn't live up to expectations while Matt prepares her latte. (Mike can tell that Matt's moving at about a quarter of his usual speed, and he loves the dude for it.)
On Wednesday, she comments on his color of Sharpie - breast cancer pink, 'cause why not? - and gives him one of those pretty, teasing smiles that he loves so much on her.
On Thursday, they're too busy for Mike to be able to do much more than say hello and tell her to have a good day, which he sort of hates. Tomorrow is her last day of summer school, and after that, there's really no guarantee that she'll keep coming in. And yes, that's stupid, because her showing up hasn't ever been a certainty, but at least there's a routine that she keeps to when she's teaching. He doesn't have any idea what she does with her days when she's on summer vacation.
It's hot outside, hot enough that the air conditioning is having a hard time keeping up, and with the door opening and closing so many times in the last half-hour, it's nearly eighty degrees in the cafe. Mike's standing at the sink at the back counter later Thursday afternoon, rinsing out the steaming pitchers that got thrown back there during their last rush. Matt's leaning against the front counter, flipping through an issue of Restaurant magazine that he stole off Jackson's desk.
Mike suppresses a groan when he hears the front door open, the sound of glass displacing the air quiet but unmistakable for someone who hears it as many times a day as he does.
He nearly drops the last metal pitcher he's rinsing when Matt says, "Hey, Quinn."
Her hair is up in a ponytail, which it wasn't this morning, and she's clutching at the edge of the counter. "Hi," she says, looking at Mike even though he wasn't the one who greeted her.
"I'm gonna go bake something," Matt says. It's a lie, because there isn't anything that needs to be baked right now, and even if there was, they wouldn't do it when it's this hot. Quinn doesn't know that though, and Mike appreciates that he's leaving them alone.
"Well, speaking of baking," Quinn says, "I'm going to be baking some cupcakes tonight for our end of summer school party tomorrow. I was wondering if maybe you would come and help."
His palms are sweating. If anyone asked, he'd blame it on the heat. "Yeah?" She nods, biting the corner of her bottom lip. "Yeah. Okay."
A slow smiles spreads across her lips. "Okay. Great." She takes a step back from the counter. "I'll see you later, then."
"Bye, Quinn."
He resists the urge to jump up in the air and do a Judd Nelson-style fist pump, but he does do a little moonwalk through the swinging door into the back where he knows Matt has been eavesdropping.
*
Mike rings the bell when he gets to Quinn's house later that evening and smiles to himself when she calls out a come in from inside.
She's standing at the counter in the kitchen, chopping strawberries in a yellow apron with ruffles on the edges and bare feet. "It's a new recipe," she says, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He crosses to stand beside her, leaning his hip against the counter. "The frosting is supposed to be made with vanilla bean, but that feels like kind of a waste on a bunch of ten-year-olds."
He just grins at her, watching when she scoops the chopped berries into a little bowl and reaches to set the board in the sink. "I still think it's cool that you do stuff like this at all," he tells her. The recipe is lying there on the counter, so after a quick glance, he grabs another bowl and the canister of flour, measuring and sifting like he has every time that he's baked with her.
She keeps her eyes trained on the bowl in front of her where she's pouring sugar over the butter that she's already measured. "I had a daughter," she says quietly. "She's nine. Just like my students." She takes a slow, deep breath. "When I went to see her, her father was there, too. Her biological father."
He can tell that this is hard for her to say, and the way that she's beating the butter and sugar together with a wooden spoon and not meeting his eyes highlights her discomfort in an odd way.
"I was a cheerleader and the celibacy club president. My father and I were planning to go to a purity ball." She drops the spoon and drags the back of her hand across her forehead. "I cheated on my boyfriend, and I ended up pregnant."
"Quinn--"
"It was because of the way that he made me feel," she interrupts before Mike has a chance to say anything. She's still staring down into the bowl in front of her. "I was popular, and I was a daddy's girl, but no one made me feel the way that he did. Like I was the only girl in the room, the only girl that he wanted to be with." She looks up at him finally, and her eyes are sad. "You make me feel like that.
"Seeing him brought all of that back up, and I panicked. It's not the same. You and him," she whispers, her eyes full of tears. "It isn't the same at all, and I realize that now. I'm sorry I pushed you away."
He gathers her into his arms when he sees the first tear slip down her cheek, holding her close against him. "You don't need to apologize."
"I really do," she mumbles against his chest. He pushes her away a little, holding onto her upper arms.
"You really don't," he says firmly, locking eyes with her. She nods, leaning into him again, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight. It feels amazing, having her in his arms again, and if he wasn't afraid that it would somehow scare her off, he'd tell her that he loves her. Instead, he pushes her away again, gently, and says, "I thought we had cupcakes to bake."
She nods, glancing down at his lips before rising up onto her toes to kiss him gently, her fingers curling just a little bit into his tee shirt at his side. "Okay," she breathes, turning back to the counter. "Cupcakes."
They have plenty to talk about while they work. Mike tells her about his New York trip, and Quinn is full of stories from summer school. It's almost exactly like it was before, with Mike sitting on a stool beside the counter while Quinn pipes frosting onto the tops of her cupcakes and they both chat. She gets really excited when he tells her about the music video because she's secretly a fan of the bubblegum pop singer, and he has to lean over and kiss her temple when she's telling a story about one of her students and the guinea pig that one of the other teachers convinced her to house in her classroom for a couple of weeks.
He watches Quinn carefully place the cupcakes into the special carrier she has and snap the lid on top. She pauses for a moment with her hands there on the top of it, then turns to face him. "Can I ask you something?" Mike nods. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me, or did you just say it because I was leaving?"
He can feel the incredulous look on his face when he says, "Of course I meant it." She blinks, and he steps forward to put his hands on her shoulders. "I meant it," he repeats emphatically. "I do love you."
Her eyes close even though her face is tipped up toward his, and she takes a shaky breath before opening them again. "I'm not ready to say that," she whispers.
Mike looks down at her and realizes that the waver in her voice and what he's seeing in her eyes...it's fear. She's afraid, and whether it's because she's afraid that he loves her or afraid that he expects her to love him or afraid of how he's going to react to her admission, the idea of her being afraid right now, when he's telling her he loves her, breaks his heart.
"It's okay," he tells her, speaking softly and looking her straight in the eye. "You don't have to say or feel it. Love doesn't come with expectations, Quinn."
A sound that might be a sob comes out of her throat, but before Mike can decipher it, Quinn is kissing him, her fingers threading into his hair and her hips pressing forward against his. It's automatic, the way his arms go around her, his fingers grasping at the back of her shirt when she licks at the seam of his lips.
He's not going to lie and say that he hasn't missed this part of being with Quinn, but he's surprised when she starts walking backwards in the direction of her bedroom, tugging at the front of his shirt with one hand and untying her apron with the other so that it falls to the floor between them and Mike's feet nearly get caught up in the fabric. He tried not to come here tonight with any expectations for what was going to happen, but even if he had, this wouldn't have been one of them. He wasn't even sure that her invitation was an indication of anything more than her willingness to be friends, but her hands are slipping up beneath his tee shirt, warm and sure against his skin.
She breaks the kiss to pull his shirt up over his head. "Quinn, wait," he forces out when her hands drop to his belt buckle. She blinks up at him, though her hands don't stop moving, which makes it really difficult for him to say, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Her hands still, though she doesn't remove them from his belt. It's distracting. "It's not like before," she says, and he thinks she means the first time that they slept together. "I'm sure." She leans up to kiss him again, gently this time, just her lips moving with his until he slips his hand into her hair and she opens her mouth under his.
There's nothing like the way that Quinn gasps his name when he slips into her or the way that her back arches and her fingers clutch at his shoulders when she falls apart, and he nearly thanks her for letting him experience that again when he's in a post-orgasmic stupor. Fortunately, he suggests that they try one of those cupcakes that she made instead, a stroke of genius that affords him the opportunity to kiss frosting off the corner of her mouth.
*
"You're in a good mood," Matt comments when Mike practically dances into the cafe the next morning. "I guess last night with Quinn went well."
"Yeah," Mike answers simply. Matt doesn't need to know that he only got a couple of hours of sleep before he woke up beside a naked, gorgeous woman.
He's back behind the espresso machine when Quinn comes in that morning, smiling as soon as she's through the door. He catches her eye when she's standing there in line, shooting her a little wink that makes her cheeks go all pink, almost the same color as the skirt that she's wearing.
"Could I have a medium?" she asks as soon as she's up to the counter, an effort to stop Mike from starting her drink in the small cup that he's already reached for.
"Really?" Matt asks, beating Mike to the punch. "I've been taking your order for like, a year, and you always drink smalls."
She shrugs one delicate shoulder and looks down into her wallet. "I could use the extra caffeine today. I was up all night," she explains, glancing at the display on the register and handing Matt a five-dollar bill.
Mike bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and stares down into the pitcher of milk he's steaming to keep from grinning at her, especially when Matt shoots him a pointed look. There isn't time for Matt to pump either of them for information right then - not that he'd get it, now or later - since there's a line, and once he's handed Quinn her change, he's forced to help the next customer without further comment.
Quinn is standing there at the bar when Mike finishes her drink, and since he's just waiting for espresso for an Americano, it's easy to step over where he can put it in her hand. "Skim latte, no foam."
She smiles, and Mike loves the little sparkle he sees in her eye. "Thank you, Mike."
Chapter: 4/4
Pairing: Mike/Quinn
Word Count: 5,740
Summary: AU He knew he liked Quinn before. She's beautiful and sweet, and he was completely enamored with her. Now that he knows her just a little bit, he's sort of dying to spend more time with her. (This follows Just To See You Go By.)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Knowing about Quinn's past - even just the tiny bit that she was willing to tell him - makes a few of the things that she's said and done in the few months that they were together make a lot of sense. Specifically, the way that she wanted to wait to have sex. He understands, as well as he figures any guy can, that what she went through means that she takes sex seriously. Some of the seemingly offhanded comments she's made about making mistakes and disappointing her parents suddenly take on a whole new meaning.
He does the math and realizes that if she had a baby when she was sixteen, that child is around nine years old, the same age as the kids in Quinn's class. If she's still visiting this girl twice a year, she must have some relationship with her, some attachment, and seeing all of those kids every day...
God, he wishes that she would have talked to him about this instead of doing what she did.
*
Mike doesn't really want to talk about what happened. He just wants to go to work, do his job, and go home. While other guys might decide to get wasted or talk shit about the girl or whatever, Mike's prone to wallowing in his misery.
He has a little bit of hope that she'll show up at the cafe on Monday to tell him something, anything. But when Mike takes his first break and Quinn hasn't shown up for her skim latte, no foam, Matt asks about her.
"Pretty sure she isn't coming," Mike says, staring at the door and willing someone - anyone - to walk in and end this conversation.
"I thought she was supposed to get back on Friday."
It never fails. When you're trying to finish something or have a conversation someone, that's when someone has to come in and order something. When you're bored and doing nothing - or desperately trying to avoid talking about getting dumped - there isn't a customer in sight.
"She did," Mike answers.
Matt doesn't have anything else to do, so he leans against the back counter and looks at Mike. "What happened?"
Mike shrugs his shoulders, turning back to the front counter and wiping it with a damp cloth even though it's already clean. "She came over and told me that we were done. I don't know why," he lies. What happened in Quinn's past isn't any of Matt's business, and even if it was, Mike doesn't know how he would go about explaining that she broke up with him because she had a baby almost ten years ago. He can't make much sense of it for himself, let alone for someone else.
"That sucks, man," Matt says sincerely. "I know you really liked her."
Saying that Mike liked her implies that he used to like her, in the past, instead of still liking her today. Which he does. Hell, he loves the girl, and really wishes that she would talk to him about this. But she told him to leave her alone, so unless she comes to him, that isn't going to happen.
"Yeah."
*
Even though it's been weeks since Quinn dumped him, Mike is depressed.
Not clinically, seriously depressed, but depressed like a guy who got dumped by the girl he's in love with. Even grocery shopping, which is usually one of his favorite things to do, does nothing to pull him out of his funk. If anything, it makes it worse, because he can't help thinking about the day when he first learned her name, when she smiled at him instead of being totally freaked out by how awkward he was.
He's totally that guy. He'd be embarrassed if anyone else knew, but he's certainly not going to tell.
When he gets a call from Tadd asking if Mike would be interested in dancing in the music video he's choreographing for some Disney pop kid who's trying to get out from under her good girl image, he doesn't even think before he says yes. It's filming over three days in New York, but Mike figures a week back in the city that he called home for four years - a week away from all the stuff that's making him think of Quinn - sounds pretty good.
Mike ignores the knowing look he gets from Matt when he's telling Jackson, the cafe owner, about his plans at work the next morning. It's easy enough to get someone to cover the classes he's scheduled to teach at the dance studio. He's crashing on Tadd's sofa bed, so all he has to do is book a flight and pack.
Being back in New York does feel a lot like coming home. There's just something about this city that's different than any other, something that he never realizes he misses until he's back and feels it all over again. He drops his stuff at Tadd's place - the guy's at work, but Mike still has the key on his ring from when he lived here almost five years ago; it's kind of insane when he thinks about it - and heads straight to the pizza place down the block.
It's nice, he thinks when he's walking through his old neighborhood, to be away from some of the things that remind him of Quinn.
Then he turns the corner and sees a children's bookstore where there used to a big and tall men's clothing shop and that goes all to hell.
He's too busy with rehearsal and filming to really think about it, honestly, which is a blessing. It's nice to have three days of nothing to think about but the music and the movement and, at one point, how to make it look like he's touching this singer in borderline-inappropriate ways without actually being inappropriate. (Why he was chosen to be that guy is beyond him, but they get it figured out in a way that doesn't make him feel like he's a creeper.) He's too tired when he gets back to Tadd's place to do much besides pull out the sofa bed he's sleeping on and pass out.
The day after he finishes shooting on the music video, he meets Rachel for a late lunch. She nearly knocks him down when she launches herself at him outside of the restaurant, laughing against his shoulder as he struggles to keep them both upright and off their asses on the sidewalk.
Mike met Rachel Berry at a party during his freshman year of college, and they've been friends ever since. Well, if you don't count the brief detour their friendship took when they tried dating, broke up, and didn't talk for the entire summer after their sophomore year when she went to spend the summer back home. They don't talk all that often, but they make a point of seeing each other whenever they're in the same city, and when they hang out, it's always like the last time they were together was yesterday. She's the kind of girl you don't realize that you miss until you're hanging out with her, then you wish that she was around all the time.
She's also stupidly easy to talk to, because when she says, "Tell me what's new with you," he opens his big mouth and tells her all about Quinn. He tells her everything, from all that time when she was coming in the cafe and he didn't know her name to the way she broke up with him. He even tells Rachel about the baby thing, because it's not like she's ever going to meet Quinn, and maybe she can help him make sense of what that has to do with him.
"I just don't know what I did," he finishes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Rachel has already put her fork down and is just sitting there, watching him and listening to him talk about this girl.
"Unless you're omitting details to make yourself look better," Rachel says softly, "I don't think that you did." Mike blinks at her. "Sometimes, 'it's not you, it's me,' isn't just a bullshit excuse. Maybe going home dredged up issues for her, and then she connected them to you."
"That sucks."
Rachel laughs. "We all do it to some extent. We go into new relationships with baggage from the old ones, and the new person we're with is forced to deal with them along with us." She picks up her fork and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe she'll come around."
Mike sighs, looking out the window beside them at the street for a moment before turning back to Rachel. "There isn't anything I could do about it even if she hadn't told me to leave her alone, is there?"
"I don't think so," she answers softly, looking sad when she says it.
He feels a little bit better about the whole thing having talked about it, however weird that is. It still feels like shit, frankly, but at least he's gotten it all out in the open a little. It's like now that he's said it all aloud and had someone else tell him that he didn't do anything wrong with Quinn, maybe he'll be able to start getting over her.
*
"Quinn started coming in again last week."
It's the first thing Matt says when Mike gets to the cafe on his first morning back after his New York trip, before he's even gotten the back door closed behind him.
It's too early for his heart to do this flipping thing in chest.
"Okay."
Matt's eye widen slightly. "Okay?" Mike shrugs, going to grab an apron off the hook on the wall. "Dude, you've been moping around because of her for like, a month, and 'okay?'"
"New York was good, thanks," Mike says sarcastically, turning to face Matt when he slips his apron over his head. "I think the video's going to be good too, but no, I don't know when it's going to be released yet." Matt rolls his eyes. "Look, Quinn told me to leave her alone. If she's coming here again, it's just about coffee."
He leaves Matt standing there shaking his head, walking out into the front of the cafe and pulling chairs down off the tables even though there are a bunch of things he should do first. He just needs for Matt not to be looking at him like he's supposed to be doing or saying something about the fact that Quinn has started coming back to the cafe. Because however much Mike would like it if it meant that she wanted him back in her life, he can't let himself think like that.
It's about skim lattes, no foam. It isn't about him.
He's not trying to watch the door, but he looks up every time it opens, which means that he sees Quinn the second she comes in. She's wearing a cerulean blue dress with a brown leather belt, and her hair is straight and a few inches shorter than it was when he saw her last. The only thing in her hands is her wallet, just like always, and he can see that she's painted her nails the color of coral. She's so, so pretty.
He takes it all in in a glance, then turns his attention back to the dry whole milk cappuccino he's making.
"Hey, Quinn," Matt greets when she gets up to the register, holding out his hand for her money without even telling her the price. He never does.
"Hi, Matt." Mike makes the mistake of looking up at her when he reaches for the cup to make her latte, and she catches his eye. "Did you have a good trip?"
"I did," he answers simply, ignoring the way his heart is pounding. "Thanks."
She says thank you with a polite smile when he hands her her drink, then turns and walks away leaving Mike to make two large Americanos while he tries to stop thinking about how green her eyes look when she does her eye makeup like that.
*
Quinn told Mike to leave her alone, and Mike respects that. Even though she's coming to the cafe every morning again, he's not initiating conversation with her, however much he wants to ask her about how summer school is going and whether or not she ever tried that strawberry cupcake recipe that she'd been so excited about not long before everything fell apart. Matt makes some comment about regression and history repeating, but Mike pretends that he doesn't hear it and keeps his eyes on the pitcher of milk he's steaming instead of watching Quinn walk out the front door of the cafe.
Matt isn't entirely wrong though. It feels a lot like six months ago, when he was still so sure that he was going to stumble over his words that he was half-afraid to talk to her. He's anticipating seeing her every day just like he did then, though he thinks he's hiding it better this time around.
He's not so sure about history repeating though. Their conversations are brief and polite and nothing more. She isn't flirting with him or even really acting like they know each other at all. It's almost impressive, the way that she can be so casual and impersonal with someone she's had sex with.
Mike just follows her lead.
He's in the back Thursday morning after the rush ends, pulling a tray of double-chocolate chip cookies from the oven when Matt calls his name. He sets the tray on the cooling rack (which isn't the way it's supposed to be done, but whatever) and heads back out front.
He's a little surprised when he sees Quinn's friend Sam standing there at the counter.
"Hey," he greets simply, ignoring the questioning look he gets from Matt when he steps up to the counter. "What's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Sam says, cutting right to the chase. "Can you take a break or something?"
He makes Sam an iced Americano and pours a raspberry lemonade for himself, then they step outside onto the front patio to sit at a table in the sunshine.
"Quinn screwed up," Sam says without preamble, and Mike's glad that he wasn't trying to take a drink. He might have choked. "She was like, totally falling for you, and she screwed up when she broke up with you."
Mike doesn't say anything. He wouldn't know what to say. He thinks Sam is working towards something here though, so he just waits, taking a quick sip of his lemonade.
"She's been in this funk ever since, and I finally got her to admit that it's because she shouldn't have dumped you."
Mike doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that. Maybe there are guys who would feel vindicated or something, knowing that the girl who dumped him feels like shit about it, but Mike doesn't want Quinn to feel bad.
"I don't know what you want me to say, man," he admits to Sam. "She told me to leave her alone, and that's what I've been doing."
Sam takes a sip of his drink and nods. "Yeah, that was another screw up." Mike grins in spite of himself and watches Sam lean forward a little. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle of anything, but I hate seeing her mope around because she's too proud or stupid or whatever to admit that she messed up and wants you back." He sighs and picks up his drink, shaking it gently so the ice rattles against the inside of the cup. "Quinn doesn't want you to leave her alone."
"But she sai--"
Sam cuts him off. "She started coming back here, right?"
Sam obviously already knows the answers, so Mike doesn't say anything. He does, however, wonder what exactly Quinn has said about it.
Sam pushes his chair back away from the table, the wrought iron scraping against the sidewalk loudly. "I'm not going to tell her that I came here, so if you choose not to do anything, that's your deal," he says, looking at Mike seriously. He lets the words hang there for a minute, then nods his head and turns to walk to his car, leaving Mike sitting there.
"What was that about?" Matt asks when Mike comes back into the cafe.
Mike doesn't feel like making up some stupid story, so he just says, "Quinn," while he pulls his apron back over his head and ignores all of Matt's probing questions that don't end for the rest of the afternoon.
*
"I'm going to work register," Mike tells Matt the next morning just before they open the front door. Matt blinks once and nods, and Mike busies himself with choosing which color of Sharpie he wants to use this morning so he doesn't have to see the looks Matt's giving him from his place behind the espresso machine.
He reaches for a small cup as soon as he sees Quinn walk through the front door, marking it - skim latte, no foam - with his orange Sharpie even though Matt knows what she drinks just as well as he does. "Good morning," he greets simply when the guy in front of her in line finishes ordering and she steps up to the counter.
She smiles softly, handing him the exact change to pay for her latte. "Good morning."
"How's summer school going?" he asks, keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he sorts the change she handed him into the appropriate compartments in the register. There isn't anyone in line behind her, so he isn't holding anyone up.
"Really good," she answers. "I have thirteen kids, and my main focus is reading comprehension."
"One more week, right?"
He sees the way her eyes soften. "Right."
Matt doesn't say anything when he finishes making her drink, just slips the little cardboard sleeve on it and slides it across the counter to her with a nod. "Well," Mike says, watching her pick it up. "Have a good day."
"Thank you." She looks almost like she wants to say something else, but instead she turns and walks to the door, holding it open for the woman who comes in just as Quinn is going out.
Matt nudges him once she's gone but doesn't say anything. Mike is still grinning when the new customer gets to the counter to place her order.
*
As much as Mike hated it when Matt brought it up, the next week and a half is like history repeating itself. Even though he knows her name now, he and Quinn are interacting with one another the same way that they did back when he first noticed her, when he had that stupid crush on her and wanted to get to know her but didn't really know how to go about doing it. This time around, he knows her better, so he has a little more to work with, but it's a lot of the same stuff.
On Monday, he asks her if she had a good weekend. When she says yes, he asks how the team fared at trivia on Sunday night, and she's smiling when she tells him about the hula hoop question that no other team got correct.
On Tuesday, he mentions the release of a movie that's based on a book that he knows she's read. She says she's torn, because she wants to see it, but films based on books are almost always disappointing. Mike agrees, and they throw out a couple of titles - Fight Club, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Marley and Me - that didn't live up to expectations while Matt prepares her latte. (Mike can tell that Matt's moving at about a quarter of his usual speed, and he loves the dude for it.)
On Wednesday, she comments on his color of Sharpie - breast cancer pink, 'cause why not? - and gives him one of those pretty, teasing smiles that he loves so much on her.
On Thursday, they're too busy for Mike to be able to do much more than say hello and tell her to have a good day, which he sort of hates. Tomorrow is her last day of summer school, and after that, there's really no guarantee that she'll keep coming in. And yes, that's stupid, because her showing up hasn't ever been a certainty, but at least there's a routine that she keeps to when she's teaching. He doesn't have any idea what she does with her days when she's on summer vacation.
It's hot outside, hot enough that the air conditioning is having a hard time keeping up, and with the door opening and closing so many times in the last half-hour, it's nearly eighty degrees in the cafe. Mike's standing at the sink at the back counter later Thursday afternoon, rinsing out the steaming pitchers that got thrown back there during their last rush. Matt's leaning against the front counter, flipping through an issue of Restaurant magazine that he stole off Jackson's desk.
Mike suppresses a groan when he hears the front door open, the sound of glass displacing the air quiet but unmistakable for someone who hears it as many times a day as he does.
He nearly drops the last metal pitcher he's rinsing when Matt says, "Hey, Quinn."
Her hair is up in a ponytail, which it wasn't this morning, and she's clutching at the edge of the counter. "Hi," she says, looking at Mike even though he wasn't the one who greeted her.
"I'm gonna go bake something," Matt says. It's a lie, because there isn't anything that needs to be baked right now, and even if there was, they wouldn't do it when it's this hot. Quinn doesn't know that though, and Mike appreciates that he's leaving them alone.
"Well, speaking of baking," Quinn says, "I'm going to be baking some cupcakes tonight for our end of summer school party tomorrow. I was wondering if maybe you would come and help."
His palms are sweating. If anyone asked, he'd blame it on the heat. "Yeah?" She nods, biting the corner of her bottom lip. "Yeah. Okay."
A slow smiles spreads across her lips. "Okay. Great." She takes a step back from the counter. "I'll see you later, then."
"Bye, Quinn."
He resists the urge to jump up in the air and do a Judd Nelson-style fist pump, but he does do a little moonwalk through the swinging door into the back where he knows Matt has been eavesdropping.
*
Mike rings the bell when he gets to Quinn's house later that evening and smiles to himself when she calls out a come in from inside.
She's standing at the counter in the kitchen, chopping strawberries in a yellow apron with ruffles on the edges and bare feet. "It's a new recipe," she says, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He crosses to stand beside her, leaning his hip against the counter. "The frosting is supposed to be made with vanilla bean, but that feels like kind of a waste on a bunch of ten-year-olds."
He just grins at her, watching when she scoops the chopped berries into a little bowl and reaches to set the board in the sink. "I still think it's cool that you do stuff like this at all," he tells her. The recipe is lying there on the counter, so after a quick glance, he grabs another bowl and the canister of flour, measuring and sifting like he has every time that he's baked with her.
She keeps her eyes trained on the bowl in front of her where she's pouring sugar over the butter that she's already measured. "I had a daughter," she says quietly. "She's nine. Just like my students." She takes a slow, deep breath. "When I went to see her, her father was there, too. Her biological father."
He can tell that this is hard for her to say, and the way that she's beating the butter and sugar together with a wooden spoon and not meeting his eyes highlights her discomfort in an odd way.
"I was a cheerleader and the celibacy club president. My father and I were planning to go to a purity ball." She drops the spoon and drags the back of her hand across her forehead. "I cheated on my boyfriend, and I ended up pregnant."
"Quinn--"
"It was because of the way that he made me feel," she interrupts before Mike has a chance to say anything. She's still staring down into the bowl in front of her. "I was popular, and I was a daddy's girl, but no one made me feel the way that he did. Like I was the only girl in the room, the only girl that he wanted to be with." She looks up at him finally, and her eyes are sad. "You make me feel like that.
"Seeing him brought all of that back up, and I panicked. It's not the same. You and him," she whispers, her eyes full of tears. "It isn't the same at all, and I realize that now. I'm sorry I pushed you away."
He gathers her into his arms when he sees the first tear slip down her cheek, holding her close against him. "You don't need to apologize."
"I really do," she mumbles against his chest. He pushes her away a little, holding onto her upper arms.
"You really don't," he says firmly, locking eyes with her. She nods, leaning into him again, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight. It feels amazing, having her in his arms again, and if he wasn't afraid that it would somehow scare her off, he'd tell her that he loves her. Instead, he pushes her away again, gently, and says, "I thought we had cupcakes to bake."
She nods, glancing down at his lips before rising up onto her toes to kiss him gently, her fingers curling just a little bit into his tee shirt at his side. "Okay," she breathes, turning back to the counter. "Cupcakes."
They have plenty to talk about while they work. Mike tells her about his New York trip, and Quinn is full of stories from summer school. It's almost exactly like it was before, with Mike sitting on a stool beside the counter while Quinn pipes frosting onto the tops of her cupcakes and they both chat. She gets really excited when he tells her about the music video because she's secretly a fan of the bubblegum pop singer, and he has to lean over and kiss her temple when she's telling a story about one of her students and the guinea pig that one of the other teachers convinced her to house in her classroom for a couple of weeks.
He watches Quinn carefully place the cupcakes into the special carrier she has and snap the lid on top. She pauses for a moment with her hands there on the top of it, then turns to face him. "Can I ask you something?" Mike nods. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me, or did you just say it because I was leaving?"
He can feel the incredulous look on his face when he says, "Of course I meant it." She blinks, and he steps forward to put his hands on her shoulders. "I meant it," he repeats emphatically. "I do love you."
Her eyes close even though her face is tipped up toward his, and she takes a shaky breath before opening them again. "I'm not ready to say that," she whispers.
Mike looks down at her and realizes that the waver in her voice and what he's seeing in her eyes...it's fear. She's afraid, and whether it's because she's afraid that he loves her or afraid that he expects her to love him or afraid of how he's going to react to her admission, the idea of her being afraid right now, when he's telling her he loves her, breaks his heart.
"It's okay," he tells her, speaking softly and looking her straight in the eye. "You don't have to say or feel it. Love doesn't come with expectations, Quinn."
A sound that might be a sob comes out of her throat, but before Mike can decipher it, Quinn is kissing him, her fingers threading into his hair and her hips pressing forward against his. It's automatic, the way his arms go around her, his fingers grasping at the back of her shirt when she licks at the seam of his lips.
He's not going to lie and say that he hasn't missed this part of being with Quinn, but he's surprised when she starts walking backwards in the direction of her bedroom, tugging at the front of his shirt with one hand and untying her apron with the other so that it falls to the floor between them and Mike's feet nearly get caught up in the fabric. He tried not to come here tonight with any expectations for what was going to happen, but even if he had, this wouldn't have been one of them. He wasn't even sure that her invitation was an indication of anything more than her willingness to be friends, but her hands are slipping up beneath his tee shirt, warm and sure against his skin.
She breaks the kiss to pull his shirt up over his head. "Quinn, wait," he forces out when her hands drop to his belt buckle. She blinks up at him, though her hands don't stop moving, which makes it really difficult for him to say, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Her hands still, though she doesn't remove them from his belt. It's distracting. "It's not like before," she says, and he thinks she means the first time that they slept together. "I'm sure." She leans up to kiss him again, gently this time, just her lips moving with his until he slips his hand into her hair and she opens her mouth under his.
There's nothing like the way that Quinn gasps his name when he slips into her or the way that her back arches and her fingers clutch at his shoulders when she falls apart, and he nearly thanks her for letting him experience that again when he's in a post-orgasmic stupor. Fortunately, he suggests that they try one of those cupcakes that she made instead, a stroke of genius that affords him the opportunity to kiss frosting off the corner of her mouth.
*
"You're in a good mood," Matt comments when Mike practically dances into the cafe the next morning. "I guess last night with Quinn went well."
"Yeah," Mike answers simply. Matt doesn't need to know that he only got a couple of hours of sleep before he woke up beside a naked, gorgeous woman.
He's back behind the espresso machine when Quinn comes in that morning, smiling as soon as she's through the door. He catches her eye when she's standing there in line, shooting her a little wink that makes her cheeks go all pink, almost the same color as the skirt that she's wearing.
"Could I have a medium?" she asks as soon as she's up to the counter, an effort to stop Mike from starting her drink in the small cup that he's already reached for.
"Really?" Matt asks, beating Mike to the punch. "I've been taking your order for like, a year, and you always drink smalls."
She shrugs one delicate shoulder and looks down into her wallet. "I could use the extra caffeine today. I was up all night," she explains, glancing at the display on the register and handing Matt a five-dollar bill.
Mike bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and stares down into the pitcher of milk he's steaming to keep from grinning at her, especially when Matt shoots him a pointed look. There isn't time for Matt to pump either of them for information right then - not that he'd get it, now or later - since there's a line, and once he's handed Quinn her change, he's forced to help the next customer without further comment.
Quinn is standing there at the bar when Mike finishes her drink, and since he's just waiting for espresso for an Americano, it's easy to step over where he can put it in her hand. "Skim latte, no foam."
She smiles, and Mike loves the little sparkle he sees in her eye. "Thank you, Mike."