fic: "Will you go out with me?"
TITLE: “Will you go out with me?”
AUTHOR: Brio
SPOILERS: Minor mention of something that happened in season 1.
RATING: G. Much fluff.
SUMMARY: Quinn and Rachel have been friends for a while, Quinn realizes she’s falling for Rachel and decides to ask her out on a date. Prompted by Darch (who also beta'd).
WORDS: 6,898
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Rachel/Quinn, minor Brittany/Santana, Rachel’s dads, Judy, Kurt, Mercedes
NOTES: Give me my double chocolate chip cookies.
“Will you go out with me?”
Quinn stares back at her reflection and scowls, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. The words sound ridiculous, even to her. Especially after two hours and thirteen minutes of asking her reflection on a date.
“Tomorrow. Breadstix at eight. See you there.”
Cringing now, Quinn turns away from the mirror and flops down on her bed. She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the ceiling, grumbling to herself about how ridiculous she is. On her bedside table, her phone bursts into song. With a confused expression on her face, she reaches for it and rolls her eyes at the picture on her screen.
“Hey Rach,” she says, grinning up at the ceiling.
“Save me!” replies an overly dramatic voice. Quinn chuckles in response, rubbing a hand across her stomach in an attempt to stop the nervous knot forming; the nervous knot that always appears when Quinn speaks to Rachel or sees Rachel or even thinks about the miniscule brunette.
“Give me… ten minutes?” Quinn glances over at her alarm clock, knowing that it won’t take her more than a minute to leave her house and four minutes to drive to Rachel’s at the most.
“Not a second more!” the brunette trills and hangs up. Quinn immediately changes the ringtone back to Rachel’s usual song before rolling off her bed and grabbing a pair of shoes from her closet.
The sound of her footsteps on the hardwood of the stairs echoes through the empty house. Her mother is at a single’s yoga class. Or is it pilates on Friday’s? The calendar that hangs in their kitchen has all the information but Quinn rarely checks it. Her mom is out most nights of the week which means she no longer has to endure awkward dinners or marathon sessions of The Biggest Loser like she did when her parents first split up and because it’s summer vacation, Quinn doesn’t have a strict curfew. Nor does she have to get up in the morning for Coach Sylvester’s personal brand of killer cheerleading practices and thus eats her breakfast sprawled on the couch watching Dora the Explorer. Not that she’ll ever admit that to anyone.
Quinn makes the journey to Rachel’s house in just over three minutes due to the complete lack of traffic and arches an eyebrow at the amount of cars crowding the Berry’s driveway. Rachel answers the door with a grin. From within the house, there’s the sound of laughter and music.
“Hey,” Quinn says, taking a step back to let the brunette pass. “What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing!” Rachel says, reaching for Quinn’s arm to drag her down the path.
“Quinn!” the blonde turns to see Rachel’s dad standing in the doorway, wearing a tuxedo, a top hat and a monocle. A fake moustache adorns his upper lip. Quinn bites back a laugh and clears her throat.
“Good evening, Mr Berry.”
He rolls his eyes and tuts.
“Michael,” he says, “How many times must we go through this?”
“Sorry,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “Michael.”
“Make sure you get her home in one piece. By eleven. Is that okay, Rachel?”
“Yes, fine. Let’s go!” Rachel tugs on Quinn’s arm again and the blonde waves at Rachel’s dad as she half-walks, half-stumbles down the path. Quinn dissolves into peals of laughter as soon as she closes the door.
“Explain,” she gasps between breaths.
“They’re hosting a murder mystery evening,” Rachel says, reaching over to swat Quinn’s arm.
“I thought you’d be into that sort of thing,” Quinn says after she’s regained some of her composure. “A chance to show off your acting ability, dress up in a fancy costume?”
“They weren’t taking it seriously at all!” Rachel exclaims, shaking her head. “And you know me, why do things half-heartedly?”
“Rachel, did you try to murder one of your father’s guests?” Quinn asks, her face suddenly sober.
“All I did was suggest that we make the victim look a little more realistic…” Rachel pauses when she notices Quinn’s eyebrow inching higher. “Don’t look at me like that!”
“Okay, Jessica Fletcher, let’s get you out of here,” Quinn chuckles as she puts her car in gear and pulls away from the curb.
“Jessica Fletcher?” Rachel asks, face crumpled in confusion. Quinn sighs heavily and shakes her head.
“She’s the lead character on 'Murder, She Wrote'?” Rachel stares at her blankly. “I have so much to teach you. Where are we going anyway? Or do you just want me to drive around in circles until eleven?”
“As fun as that may be, I’d quite like to take advantage of the beautiful summer’s evening,” Rachel says. “The park maybe? We could walk from your house?”
“Okay,” Quinn replies with a nod, taking a left at the end of the street and driving back towards her house. “Do you want to grab a sweater?” Quinn glances at Rachel’s bare arms and hastily turns her focus back to the road.
But Rachel’s vaguely muscular arms dominate her thoughts. She reminds herself that she should really start doing some form of workout and promptly begins to blush as an entirely different type of workout starts to filter through her thoughts.
“Quinn!” Rachel exclaims, bracing her hands against the dashboard as a small child runs out into the street, chasing a bright orange ball. Quinn slams on her brakes causing both girls to jerk forwards against their seatbelts. The child, unperturbed, rescues their ball and skips out of view.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, glancing worriedly at Rachel as the brunette rubs her shoulder, a grimace on her face.
“Yeah, probably just bruised it,” Rachel says. “Where was your head? You weren’t paying attention to the road at all…” Quinn feels herself blush and starts driving again, keeping her eyes firmly on the road for any errant children.
“Nowhere. Nothing.”
Rachel glances over at the blonde curiously and tilts her head but doesn’t say anything until they’ve arrived at Quinn’s house.
“Maybe I will need that sweater,” she says, rubbing her arms against the slight evening chill. Quinn leads them inside and disappears to find a sweater while Rachel waits in the hall, glancing at photographs of the Fabray family. Many have been replaced. Photos of a younger Quinn smiling up at the camera adorn the walls now interspersed with shots of her older sister and their mom.
“Here you go,” Quinn says, jogging down the stairs. Rachel turns to face her, smiling brightly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Rachel says, a little too eagerly. “Let’s go.” Quinn gives her a quizzical look before ushering her out of the house.
The walk to the park consists of small talk about their respective days. Rachel is spending four weeks of the summer vacation helping at a day camp and usually has a few stories to tell about her favourites. She vehemently denies having favourites, much to Quinn’s amusement.
“I don’t have favourites,” Rachel insists. “But there’s this one girl…”
“Amy, yeah, you mention her all the time, Rach,” Quinn teases, skipping ahead of the brunette a few steps. She feels a hand clasp around her arm and drag her backwards.
“What did you do today?” Rachel asks, deciding that Quinn’s probably heard enough Amy-stories this week. As they walk along the lane that will take them out near the play park, Rachel realises that her hand is still clasped loosely around Quinn’s wrist and that the blonde doesn’t appear to mind the contact at all.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Quinn says mysteriously, praying that she isn’t blushing as she recalls her afternoon in front of the mirror.
“So nothing?” Rachel asks, arching an eyebrow. “Are you intent on wasting your entire summer vacation? You could come to the camp and help out if you want? Aren’t you bored?”
“I’m not wasting my entire summer vacation, Veronica Mars,” Quinn says, trying to avoid looking down at Rachel’s hand for fear that the brunette might let go.
“Veronica who?” Rachel asks, scrunching her face up.
“See? This is how I’m spending my summer. I’m watching copious amounts of television so that I can completely confuse you with references,” Quinn says triumphantly. “And there’s only one week left of camp. Then you’ll be as bored as I am.”
Rachel makes a face, a guilty face.
“Rachel?”
“My dads and I are going to my grandparents for a week. They sprung it on me earlier today, but then I have no plans for the rest of vacation!” Rachel says, squeezing Quinn’s wrist. “It’s just another week. Then you can have me all to yourself.”
Quinn swears she feels her heart skip ever-so-slightly when Rachel says this and her earlier ‘workout’ daydream pops back into her head. She’s aware that the brunette by her side is babbling away now, apologising for not being around and that Rachel is completely oblivious to the gormless look on Quinn’s face as her mind transports her from her bed to her kitchen where Rachel is sitting on the breakfast bar and…
“…dinner tomorrow night?” Rachel finishes her question.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” Quinn repeats vacantly.
“Okay,” Rachel says, dropping Quinn’s arm and rounding to face the blonde. “What is going on with you tonight? You’re completely distracted. You’re not even listening to me.” Rachel pouts slightly.
“I have stuff on my mind,” Quinn says vaguely, tearing her gaze from Rachel’s lips to look into her eyes. The brunette looks a little concerned but turns to continue their walk.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Rachel says, placing a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“I know,” Quinn nods. “Thanks Rach.” Quinn starts to guide them through the park, stopping near a clump of trees and gesturing to the grass. “How about here?” Rachel nods her approval and flops down onto the grass. Quinn chuckles and descends gracefully, lying down next to the brunette.
“So do you want to come for dinner tomorrow night? My dads are going out for dinner with some work colleagues so I was thinking about ordering…”
“Thai?” Quinn supplies with a quick grin. “I’ll be there.”
The pair lapse into silence and Rachel lies back onto the grass, sighing contentedly as she watches the clouds above drift past. Quinn reaches into her pocket and fishes out her phone and headphones, offering a bud to the brunette before scrolling through her list of albums and selecting an artist that she knows Rachel likes.
After a few songs, Quinn turns her head to the right, taking in Rachel’s profile. A smile plays on the brunette’s lips as she hums along with the music. The sunlight catches in the strands of hair covering her forehead. Quinn feels herself take a deep breath as the knot of nerves starts to form again and Rachel turns to look at her.
“Hi,” the brunette murmurs, teeth biting down on her bottom lip.
“Hey,” Quinn replies. “Will you go out with me?”
At the sudden look of surprise on Rachel’s face, Quinn starts to panic and jumps to her feet, grimacing as the headphone jerks out of her ear. She starts to walk back towards her house, cursing herself inwardly for blurting the question so awkwardly. She can hear fast footsteps behind her and a hand tugging her arm.
“Quinn,” Rachel says, pulling the blonde around to face her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go somewhere dark and die of embarrassment,” Quinn says, screwing up her face and trying to move away from Rachel.
“So you don’t want to hear my answer?” Rachel asks, a little incredulously. Quinn shrugs, looking down at the ground with a furious blush on her face and Rachel sighs. “Quinn, look at me.” Reluctantly, Quinn’s eyes travel upwards over Rachel’s body until they meet the brunette’s. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Quinn whispers, a small smile ghosting over her lips.
“I’m incredibly flattered,” Rachel begins. “Really, you have no idea how flattered I am…”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Quinn says despondently, trying to retract her arm from Rachel’s grasp.
“Let me finish, please,” Rachel insists, tightening her grip on the blonde’s arm and pulling her closer. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Quinn repeats.
“Yes,” Rachel confirms with a nod of her head, loosening her hold on Quinn. “Tomorrow? Since we’re having dinner together anyway?”
“Tomorrow?” Quinn echoes.
“Breadstix at eight?” Rachel asks.
“Sure,” Quinn says, a little confused about who is asking who out now.
“You’ll pick me up?”
“Okay,” Quinn says with a nod. They’ve reached her house and Rachel grins.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she says.
“Aren’t you coming in? We could watch a movie or something?” Quinn says.
“Quinn, I have a date tomorrow night. I have to go pick out an outfit. I might have to enlist the help of Kurt and Mercedes for that,” Rachel says, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
“I can give you a ride home, if you want,” Quinn says hurriedly, retrieving her keys from her pocket. “I don’t mind.” She’s already ushering Rachel towards the car as the brunette protests about being able to walk. The journey is silent and as Quinn draws up in front of the brunette’s house, Rachel turns to look at her.
“Thank you,” she says, leaning across to peck Quinn’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Quinn nods rapidly. “Good night, Quinn.”
“Night Rachel,” Quinn says, watching as Rachel exits the car. The brunette turns to wave as she climbs onto her porch and Quinn raises her hand, a grin spreading across her face. Once Rachel is inside, Quinn leans back against her seat and punches the air. Her excitement and relief is almost palpable but as she drives home, a feeling of dread starts to creep in. She’s going on a date. She’s going on a date with Rachel Berry.
Despite rehearsing her question for two hours and thirteen minutes, Quinn has failed to prepare for what would happen if Rachel said yes.
She takes a right at the end of the street and heads towards a different part of town. As expected, two familiar cars are parked in the driveway.
Santana answers the door and quirks an eyebrow.
“Well, look who’s returned from the Land of Munchkins,” she says. “Come back to play with people your own size?”
“You’re one to talk,” Quinn says. “I barely see you and Britt nowadays.”
“At least my girlfriend is hot,” Santana counters. “And dresses in clothes not designed for pre-schoolers.” Quinn rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” the blonde says, turning to walk down the steps. She hears Santana exhale and pauses as she’s called back to the house. “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way.” Santana gives her a disbelieving look. “What?”
“Please, the way you two act around each other? You’re about as subtle as Schuester’s love of vests.”
Quinn blushes and glances away.
“We’re going on a date tomorrow. I asked her out,” the blonde says quietly. “And now I’m panicking a little.”
“Because?” Santana asks, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. She gives the blonde an appraising look. “Is it because she’s a girl?”
“You know that doesn’t bother me,” Quinn says earnestly. “It’s because she’s Rachel. I really like her and I don’t want to mess this up.”
Santana sighs, her stance softening.
“Then I guess you better come in.”
Quinn gives her friend a grateful smile and steps over the threshold.
“Thanks S,” she says quietly.
“You need all the help you can get.”
**
“No, no, no,” Kurt says, tossing skirt after shirt after blouse onto the floor as he empties Rachel’s wardrobe. “How can this be? We’ve been friends for a while now, Rachel. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Rachel lies back on her bed, pouting at the ceiling. Mercedes sits down next to her, taking the shorter brunette’s hand in hers.
“We’ll find you something,” she says reassuringly. “Kurt, please try to be more supportive.”
The boy turns around, holding up a plaid shirt.
“This, maybe,” he says, with a half-shrug before tossing it on the pile and walking over to the bed. “Rachel, I’m going to go shopping tomorrow and then I’ll come straight over when you’re finished with ballet.”
“Really?” Rachel asks, making a face. “You won’t buy anything too…” She pauses, searching for the right word, her eyes raking over the boy’s outfit.
“Too what?” Kurt asks, flicking a piece of lint from his limited edition, vintage Gucci sweater, a slight look of disdain on his face.
“Extravagant?” Rachel makes a face. “Or expensive…”
“Rachel, I know your style. I’m actually thinking of something very casual. And I do like the plaid shirt,” he says, gesturing to the crumpled material at the top of the pile of clothes on the floor. “Don’t worry. You’re going to look fabulous.”
Rachel is about to thank him when Mercedes’ phone bursts to life. Mercedes gives the screen a quick glance and excuses herself from the room, pressing the ear to her phone as she leaves. Kurt jumps up from the bed and begins organising Rachel’s wardrobe again.
“So, how are you feeling? About the date?” he asks. Rachel sits up and shrugs slightly. She spreads her fingers out over the bedspread, tracing the patterns on the fabric with her fingertips.
“This is going to sound strange,” Rachel begins, glancing over at the photo of the Glee club at their last rehearsal before summer vacation started. Quinn hates it because she’s making a goofy face, which, naturally, is the very reason that Rachel loves it.
“Rachel Berry and strange… I think I can handle it,” Kurt says, throwing a grin over his shoulder.
“It just makes sense. When she asked me, I was surprised. I was more surprised by the way she asked, she was quite blunt, but I wasn’t shocked. I think things have been moving towards this for a while and it just feels like a completely natural progression in our friendship,” Rachel says.
“So… you’re excited?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow as Rachel comes to the end of her babble.
“Yes,” Rachel confirms with a quick nod. Mercedes rejoins them, a smile playing on her lips. “Is everything okay?”
“Hm?” Mercedes murmurs, looking up from her phone and glancing at Kurt. “Yes. Great. Kurt, we should probably let Rachel get some rest for her big day tomorrow.” She leans down to give Rachel a hug and grabs Kurt’s arm, whispering quickly in his ear. His eyes light up.
“Yes, we better go!” he declares, reaching for his car keys. Rachel frowns as the pair make a hasty exit from her room, calling goodbyes to Rachel’s dads and their remaining guests in the lounge.
She moves quickly to her window and watches as her friends walk quickly to Kurt’s car. Mercedes is explaining something, gesturing expansively until they get in the car. Rachel shakes her head and moves back to her bed. She lies back on top of the bedspread again, hands clasped over her abdomen and grins up at the ceiling.
“I have a date,” she whispers to herself.
**
Quinn has been watching the minutes pass by on her phone for the last half an hour. She’s been ready for the past hour and the nervous knot in her stomach is now making her feel a little dizzy. She jumps and drops her phone as another message comes through from Mercedes, finalising details for the evening. She replies and decides that it’s time to go.
Her reflection gives her a nervous smile before she leaves her room and as she leaves her house, she realises that she’s forgotten the flowers she’d bought earlier that day. After retrieving them, shaking off the excess water, she mentally goes through everything else she needs. Purse, keys, phone. Taking one last breath, she leaves her house and makes her way to the Berry’s.
Michael opens the door moments after she rings the doorbell, a stern look on his face.
“Mr Berry… I thought you were going out for dinner tonight,” Quinn stammers slightly, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“We’re just about to leave,” he says, eyeing the bouquet of flowers in Quinn’s right hand. “I thought it might be prudent to lay down some ground rules. You are here to pick up our daughter for a date, after all.”
“Ground rules?” Quinn asks, heart beating loudly in her chest.
“Michael!” the voice of Rachel’s other dad calls from inside the house. “Stop it.” The taller of the two men appears in the doorway with a smile on his face. “She brought flowers! That Finn boy never brought flowers!” Quinn blushes a shade or two off crimson and clears her throat.
“Is Rachel ready?” she asks nervously, interrupting the two men.
“You’ve scared her,” Raymond chastises, slapping his husband’s shoulder lightly. “Come in. Rachel’s nearly ready.”
“I wasn’t kidding about those ground rules,” Michael says as Quinn passes, though now there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Rachel, Quinn’s here! And we’re about to leave!”
A garbled response filters down from Rachel’s room and the two men roll their eyes.
“She’ll be down in a minute,” Raymond says. “So, ground rules?” He glances at his husband.
“Home by midnight,” Michael says, holding up his left hand and counting things off on his fingers. “No alcohol.”
“They’re seventeen,” Raymond interjects.
“No alcohol,” Michael reiterates and Quinn nods. “Or drugs.”
“This is our daughter we’re talking about,” Raymond says. “Quinn’s not exactly a hell-raiser.”
“Remember no means no,” Michael continues unabated as Rachel hurries down the stairs. Quinn casts a quick look at the brunette, feeling her mouth run dry.
“Dad, whatever you’re doing to scare Quinn, stop it,” she says, stopping at Quinn’s side and shooting a glare at her shorter father. “We’re mature, responsible teenagers.”
“No tattoos,” is Michael’s response, checking off another finger.
“That’s really more of a third date thing…” Quinn jokes. Rachel gives her a look as Raymond begins to chuckle. “Can we please go before your dad comes up with more rules?”
“Yes,” Rachel says. “Are those for me?” Quinn nods and holds out the flowers.
“Someone told me you like gerberas,” Quinn shrugs, ducking her head shyly. “Even if you told me that your favourite flowers are lilies.”
“I like both,” Rachel says, beaming at the blonde. “I’ll go put these in water.” She glances between both of her fathers. “Behave.”
As soon as she’s out of the room, Raymond pipes up.
“Just have fun, okay?” he crosses the room to squeeze Quinn’s shoulder. “We trust you.” Michael clears his throat. “Well, I do. And I trust Rachel. And we’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”
Rachel returns, carrying the newly-arranged flowers in a vase and displays them proudly on the mantelpiece.
“They’re lovely,” she says, giving Quinn another smile. “Are you ready?” Quinn nods and leads Rachel out of the house.
“Be safe!” Michael calls as they walk down the path towards Quinn’s car where the blonde holds the passenger door open. Rachel smiles and waits for Quinn to join her in the car.
“I’m sorry about them,” Rachel says, a grimace on her face. “It’s just the first time since Finn… I thought they’d have gone by the time you arrived and we wouldn’t have to go through that.”
“It’s okay. No drugs, alcohol or tattoos and be home by midnight,” Quinn says. “I think I can adhere to those rules. I’ll cancel the sky dive and the fire breathing. And the visit to the West Lima crack district.”
“Funny,” Rachel deadpans. Quinn chuckles as she puts the car in gear and drives towards Breadstix, momentarily forgetting to be nervous.
“You look great,” Quinn says, glancing over at the brunette. “I love that shirt.”
“Thank you!” Rachel looks down at her outfit. The shirt is the only item of clothing that belonged to Rachel prior to Kurt showing up that afternoon with far too many bags of clothes and shoes. “You look good too. I mean, great. Amazing actually.” Rachel blushes. “Feel free to stop me anytime.”
“It’s okay. Please continue.”
Quinn pulls into the parking lot at Breadstix and Rachel looks around in concern at the amount of cars.
“Do you think we’ll get a table?” Rachel asks as they walk towards the restaurant.
“It’s already booked,” Quinn says, pushing the door open and holding it for Rachel. A waitress appears immediately to lead them to their table. “I had Santana pull some strings. She has a surprising amount of clout in this place. Then again, I’m pretty sure she accounts for half of their yearly revenue…”
They settle in their booth and Rachel glances around.
“This is nice,” she says, reaching across the table to take Quinn’s hand. Their fingers interlink perfectly and both girls smile. “So Santana helped you out?”
“She did,” Quinn nods. “What about Kurt and Mercedes? Did Kurt try to dress you in an Alexander McQueen jumpsuit?”
“Close,” Rachel laughs. “He let me wear my own shirt. Everything else arrived at my house a few hours ago in bags.” Quinn ducks her head and smiles shyly. “What?”
“I like whatever you dress in,” the blonde replies. The waitress returns to the table with a basket of complimentary breadsticks and Quinn offers them to Rachel first before selecting her own.
“Have you been thinking about this for a while? Asking me out?” Rachel asks, still preoccupied by the feeling of Quinn’s hand in her own. “Is that a bad question to ask? I’m really not good at this dating thing. I probably shouldn’t say that either. Kurt and Mercedes tried to give me all these tips on what I should and shouldn’t say…”
Feeling Quinn squeeze her fingers causes the brunette to stop talking.
“Yes,” Quinn says simply. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And you don’t have to worry about what you should and shouldn’t say, Rachel. You’re my friend and you don’t have to worry about stuff like that. Not with me.”
“Okay,” Rachel replies meekly.
“Plus, Kurt and Mercedes? When was the last time either of them even had a date?” Quinn asks, raising an eyebrow. “If you wanted dating advice, Tina and Mike are probably your safest bet.”
“True,” Rachel says reflectively before handing Quinn a menu. Despite the fact that she, without fail, orders meatballs every time she comes to Breadstix, Quinn reads over the descriptions next to all of the main courses. “Meatballs?” Rachel asks, breaking the blonde’s concentration. She glances up with a smile. “Are you ever going to try something different? What about something vegan?”
“Pass,” Quinn says, scrunching up her nose.
“You can try some of mine if you want? It’s not all tofu and vegetables…”
“I like vegetables!” Quinn insists. “Except…”
“Broccoli,” Rachel rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t taste like anything.”
“And that’s why I don’t like it,” Quinn concludes as the waitress comes back to their table, notepad and pen poised for action. Rachel orders first before Quinn explains how she wants her meatballs.
“You’re as bad as Santana,” Rachel muses, slipping her hand back into Quinn’s. They lapse into silence, glancing around the restaurant at the other patrons.
“Are you busy-?”
“My dads-”
Both girls laugh as they start talking at the same time.
“You first,” Quinn says, reaching for another breadstick.
“No, you,” Rachel insists.
“Okay, I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
“And I was going to say that my dads are going to visit a couple of friends tomorrow afternoon so if you wanted to come over and watch a movie or have lunch or dinner or…”
“That sounds good,” Quinn interrupts before Rachel bumbles off into a long-winded ramble. “All of it.”
“Great,” Rachel says. “Good. Cool.”
“So that’s… good then?”
“Yes, Quinn. I couldn’t pick an affirmative answer, so I used three,” Rachel says, breaking off a piece of her breadstick and throwing it in Quinn’s direction. It bounces off the blonde’s forehead and lands on the table in front of her. Quinn’s mouth falls open in mock surprise.
“Your aim is really good,” she says, tossing the piece of breadstick back at the brunette. Rachel ducks and it ricochets off the bald spot of the man at the table behind them. Quinn turns crimson as Rachel tries to cover her laugh with a fake coughing fit. The man turns around, frowning heavily at Quinn who quickly apologises.
“Your aim is kind of sucky,” Rachel notes quietly, a smirk on her face. Quinn is about to disagree politely when their food arrives and her attention is diverted. She picks up the dish of sauce she specifically asked to be left ‘on the side’ and pours it generously over the meatballs, making sure that she coats every visible millimetre. Rachel watches in amusement until Quinn sets the dish down on the table again. “Satisfied?”
“Incredibly,” Quinn says, reaching for her knife and fork. “Bon appetit.”
**
“And there’s a little here… and a little here…” Rachel presses her fingertip to Quinn’s cheek. “And just a little…” The blonde rolls her eyes.
“Really?” she asks, guiding Rachel out of the restaurant towards her car.
“No,” Rachel responds, skipping away gleefully. “Except the last one. Spaghetti is a messy food. Especially with all the sauce you drowned it in…”
“…and that is why napkins were invented,” Quinn declares, wiping her left cheek with the back of her hand as she chases after Rachel. The shorter girl is leaning against the car, a smile on her face, when Quinn catches up.
“Hi,” the brunette says shyly as Quinn steps a little closer, feeling a nervous flutter in her stomach.
“Hey,” Quinn replies. “Let’s take a walk?”
“Is this the part of the date where we go for a walk through the park and you murder me by the fountain, leaving me for a random jogger to find?”
Quinn stares agog at the brunette.
“Please remind me to stop watching horror movies with you,” Quinn says, opening the car door for Rachel to hop in. When she slides into the driver’s seat, she turns to face the brunette. “And I wouldn’t leave you by the fountain. I’d drown you in the lake.”
“Ah, the lake,” Rachel muses. “Bold choice.”
Quinn chuckles as she reverses out of her parking space and drives towards the park. It’s a beautiful evening in Lima. There are groups of people still dotted around the park, enjoying the sunset, lazing on blankets, playing Frisbee but Quinn leads Rachel away from them towards the lake.
“Oh god, you were kidding about the lake, weren’t you?” Rachel asks, squeezing Quinn’s hand and trying to drag her back towards the car.
“Come on,” Quinn says, tugging the brunette along the path. They round a corner and Rachel perks up immediately as she spies the bandstand. The bandstand which is full of people. People who are singing. People including Mercedes, Kurt, Brittany, Blaine and a very reluctant-looking Santana. As Quinn and Rachel approach, they finish their song and Blaine starts to play familiar chords on the keyboard they’ve set up.
“I love this song,” she says, glancing at Quinn.
“Do you want to dance?” Quinn asks, turning to face Rachel. The brunette nods shyly and they fall naturally into position, Quinn’s hands on Rachel’s waist while Rachel’s hands link behind Quinn’s neck.
“I’ve never slow-danced with anyone before,” Rachel says quietly as they begin to turn in slow circles. “Except my cousin… but we were seven so I don’t think it counts.”
“Listen,” Quinn whispers and Rachel blushes, falling silent as Mercedes’ voice rings out from the bandstand.
“I dare you to let me be, your one and only. I promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms.”
As the song plays out, the others join in and there are harmonies and crescendos and Quinn leaning closer and heart rates increasing.
“Not here,” Rachel murmurs as Quinn leans her forehead against the shorter girl’s. “I want to… but I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of our friends. And Santana.”
“Then maybe I should take you home,” Quinn replies as the song reaches it’s final notes.
“I’m very much behind that plan,” Rachel nods her agreement. They applaud Mercedes and the others, laughing as Kurt and Brittany make extravagant bows. Before they leave, Quinn gives a thumbs up to Mercedes who winks in return.
The journey to Rachel’s house feels like a lifetime for Quinn. Rachel is fidgeting in the passenger seat.
“Is something wrong?” Quinn asks, glancing back and forth between the road and the brunette next to her.
“No,” Rachel responds quickly. “Nothing. This evening has been perfect; the flowers, the meal, the dance… I just don’t want to ruin anything.”
“You won’t,” Quinn reassures her, reaching across to take Rachel’s hand. She pulls up in front of Rachel’s house and they walk up the path in silence, pausing on the porch.
“So, this would be where we say goodnight,” Rachel says, a little despondently.
“I believe so,” Quinn smiles, stepping a little closer to the brunette. “Can you let your fathers know that we stuck to the rules? No drinking, drugs, tattoos…”
“I’ll tell them,” Rachel laughs, intertwining her fingers with Quinn’s. “Good night, Quinn.”
“Night Rachel,” the blonde replies and turns to leave, whistling as she walks down the path, leaving Rachel dumbfounded. She opens her mouth, spluttering over her words.
“That’s it?” she calls.
“Am I forgetting something?” Quinn asks, turning around to face the brunette.
“In the park… we nearly… you’re kidding, right?”
“Kidding about what?” Quinn asks, her face serious as she walks back towards the brunette. Rachel flounders for another couple of seconds before Quinn breaks down in giggles.
“Not funny,” Rachel huffs, pushing Quinn away as she goes to unlock the front door.
“It was a little funny,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist. The shorter girl squirms until she’s facing the blonde.
“It wasn’t,” she pouts. Quinn bites her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second before leaning forward.
“Forgive me?” she murmurs.
Rachel barely has time to mutter her answer. Quinn’s lips are tentative against hers at first, something she’s never experienced with anyone she’s kissed before. She feels Quinn’s hands tighten on her waist as the blonde closes the little space between them.
Rachel feels her lips part, moaning softly, and Quinn pulls back slightly, staring breathlessly at the brunette.
“Well, that was…”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to…?”
“Quinn, why are you still talking?” Rachel asks, exasperatedly, pulling the blonde back towards her, their lips crashing together as the kiss deepens, bodies meshing together. They’re so completely wrapped up in each other that they don’t hear the car pull up in the driveway or the sound of two doors slamming or the footsteps on the path or the sound of Michael clearing his throat.
He tries again while his husband stands a few feet behind him, trying not to snort.
Quinn’s eyes pop open as the sound registers somewhere in her mind and she pushes away from Rachel.
“What are you…?” Rachel starts to demand until she notices that Quinn is gesturing wildly to her left. “Oh.” She turns crimson when she meets her father’s eye. “Hi, daddy.”
“I should go,” Quinn says hastily. “Call me later to let me know if you survive.”
“I will,” Rachel says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Quinn quickly makes her way down the path, refusing to meet Michael’s eye but gives Raymond a huge grin as she passes the taller man.
“Good night, Quinn,” he calls, waving as the blonde retreats.
“Inside!” Michael calls, gesturing for Rachel to go into the house.
“Oh please, Mike. You and I did a lot more on our first date!” Raymond says, brushing past his husband as he makes his way into the house. Rachel scrunches up her face.
“That was an overshare,” she says, following her dad inside. Michael is hot on her heels. “Quinn would like you to know that we did not succumb to the evils of drink, drugs or body modification.” Rachel rolls her eyes as Michael inspects her arms before nodding. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, honey!” Raymond calls, settling down on the couch.
“Night!” Rachel presses a kiss to the top of her dad’s head and makes her way to the stairs. Michael sits down on the couch next to his husband and sighs.
“You remember our first date?” he asks quietly.
“We’re not that old,” Raymond says, reaching for the remote control. “I seem to remember that someone’s parents walked in on us too and they were a lot more relaxed than you’re acting.”
“My parents were hippies! They were stoned!”
“I’m pretty sure we were too. Maybe we should get some weed…” Raymond muses, stroking his chin contemplatively.
Michael gives his husband a look before rolling his eyes and grabbing the remote.
**
Quinn is surprised to find her mom’s car in the driveway when she arrives home.
“Hi sweetie, how was your evening?” she calls from the kitchen as soon as Quinn opens the front door. Bewildered, Quinn makes her way through the lounge and opens the door to the kitchen. Her mom is filling in squares on her calendar.
“It was good,” Quinn says.
“Did you do anything exciting?”
“I got pulled over by the cops,” Quinn answers, folding her arms across her chest in slight amusement.
“That’s great!”
“They fined me five hundred dollars for speeding…” Quinn continues.
“Excellent!”
“…And I’m probably going to go to jail because they found my stash of cocaine in the trunk.”
“Fantastic!”
Quinn sighs in exasperation.
“Mom, I’m pregnant,” she says, waiting for any sort of reaction. Judy fills in the last square and glances up, dropping her pen.
“What?” she asks, the colour draining from her face.
“I’m kidding,” Quinn says, walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “But I did go out with Rachel tonight. On a date. It was amazing. And I think I’m in love with her.”
The older Fabray pauses for a second, mouth hanging open in shock.
“But you’re definitely not pregnant?”
AUTHOR: Brio
SPOILERS: Minor mention of something that happened in season 1.
RATING: G. Much fluff.
SUMMARY: Quinn and Rachel have been friends for a while, Quinn realizes she’s falling for Rachel and decides to ask her out on a date. Prompted by Darch (who also beta'd).
WORDS: 6,898
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Rachel/Quinn, minor Brittany/Santana, Rachel’s dads, Judy, Kurt, Mercedes
NOTES: Give me my double chocolate chip cookies.
“Will you go out with me?”
Quinn stares back at her reflection and scowls, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. The words sound ridiculous, even to her. Especially after two hours and thirteen minutes of asking her reflection on a date.
“Tomorrow. Breadstix at eight. See you there.”
Cringing now, Quinn turns away from the mirror and flops down on her bed. She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the ceiling, grumbling to herself about how ridiculous she is. On her bedside table, her phone bursts into song. With a confused expression on her face, she reaches for it and rolls her eyes at the picture on her screen.
“Hey Rach,” she says, grinning up at the ceiling.
“Save me!” replies an overly dramatic voice. Quinn chuckles in response, rubbing a hand across her stomach in an attempt to stop the nervous knot forming; the nervous knot that always appears when Quinn speaks to Rachel or sees Rachel or even thinks about the miniscule brunette.
“Give me… ten minutes?” Quinn glances over at her alarm clock, knowing that it won’t take her more than a minute to leave her house and four minutes to drive to Rachel’s at the most.
“Not a second more!” the brunette trills and hangs up. Quinn immediately changes the ringtone back to Rachel’s usual song before rolling off her bed and grabbing a pair of shoes from her closet.
The sound of her footsteps on the hardwood of the stairs echoes through the empty house. Her mother is at a single’s yoga class. Or is it pilates on Friday’s? The calendar that hangs in their kitchen has all the information but Quinn rarely checks it. Her mom is out most nights of the week which means she no longer has to endure awkward dinners or marathon sessions of The Biggest Loser like she did when her parents first split up and because it’s summer vacation, Quinn doesn’t have a strict curfew. Nor does she have to get up in the morning for Coach Sylvester’s personal brand of killer cheerleading practices and thus eats her breakfast sprawled on the couch watching Dora the Explorer. Not that she’ll ever admit that to anyone.
Quinn makes the journey to Rachel’s house in just over three minutes due to the complete lack of traffic and arches an eyebrow at the amount of cars crowding the Berry’s driveway. Rachel answers the door with a grin. From within the house, there’s the sound of laughter and music.
“Hey,” Quinn says, taking a step back to let the brunette pass. “What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing!” Rachel says, reaching for Quinn’s arm to drag her down the path.
“Quinn!” the blonde turns to see Rachel’s dad standing in the doorway, wearing a tuxedo, a top hat and a monocle. A fake moustache adorns his upper lip. Quinn bites back a laugh and clears her throat.
“Good evening, Mr Berry.”
He rolls his eyes and tuts.
“Michael,” he says, “How many times must we go through this?”
“Sorry,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “Michael.”
“Make sure you get her home in one piece. By eleven. Is that okay, Rachel?”
“Yes, fine. Let’s go!” Rachel tugs on Quinn’s arm again and the blonde waves at Rachel’s dad as she half-walks, half-stumbles down the path. Quinn dissolves into peals of laughter as soon as she closes the door.
“Explain,” she gasps between breaths.
“They’re hosting a murder mystery evening,” Rachel says, reaching over to swat Quinn’s arm.
“I thought you’d be into that sort of thing,” Quinn says after she’s regained some of her composure. “A chance to show off your acting ability, dress up in a fancy costume?”
“They weren’t taking it seriously at all!” Rachel exclaims, shaking her head. “And you know me, why do things half-heartedly?”
“Rachel, did you try to murder one of your father’s guests?” Quinn asks, her face suddenly sober.
“All I did was suggest that we make the victim look a little more realistic…” Rachel pauses when she notices Quinn’s eyebrow inching higher. “Don’t look at me like that!”
“Okay, Jessica Fletcher, let’s get you out of here,” Quinn chuckles as she puts her car in gear and pulls away from the curb.
“Jessica Fletcher?” Rachel asks, face crumpled in confusion. Quinn sighs heavily and shakes her head.
“She’s the lead character on 'Murder, She Wrote'?” Rachel stares at her blankly. “I have so much to teach you. Where are we going anyway? Or do you just want me to drive around in circles until eleven?”
“As fun as that may be, I’d quite like to take advantage of the beautiful summer’s evening,” Rachel says. “The park maybe? We could walk from your house?”
“Okay,” Quinn replies with a nod, taking a left at the end of the street and driving back towards her house. “Do you want to grab a sweater?” Quinn glances at Rachel’s bare arms and hastily turns her focus back to the road.
But Rachel’s vaguely muscular arms dominate her thoughts. She reminds herself that she should really start doing some form of workout and promptly begins to blush as an entirely different type of workout starts to filter through her thoughts.
“Quinn!” Rachel exclaims, bracing her hands against the dashboard as a small child runs out into the street, chasing a bright orange ball. Quinn slams on her brakes causing both girls to jerk forwards against their seatbelts. The child, unperturbed, rescues their ball and skips out of view.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, glancing worriedly at Rachel as the brunette rubs her shoulder, a grimace on her face.
“Yeah, probably just bruised it,” Rachel says. “Where was your head? You weren’t paying attention to the road at all…” Quinn feels herself blush and starts driving again, keeping her eyes firmly on the road for any errant children.
“Nowhere. Nothing.”
Rachel glances over at the blonde curiously and tilts her head but doesn’t say anything until they’ve arrived at Quinn’s house.
“Maybe I will need that sweater,” she says, rubbing her arms against the slight evening chill. Quinn leads them inside and disappears to find a sweater while Rachel waits in the hall, glancing at photographs of the Fabray family. Many have been replaced. Photos of a younger Quinn smiling up at the camera adorn the walls now interspersed with shots of her older sister and their mom.
“Here you go,” Quinn says, jogging down the stairs. Rachel turns to face her, smiling brightly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Rachel says, a little too eagerly. “Let’s go.” Quinn gives her a quizzical look before ushering her out of the house.
The walk to the park consists of small talk about their respective days. Rachel is spending four weeks of the summer vacation helping at a day camp and usually has a few stories to tell about her favourites. She vehemently denies having favourites, much to Quinn’s amusement.
“I don’t have favourites,” Rachel insists. “But there’s this one girl…”
“Amy, yeah, you mention her all the time, Rach,” Quinn teases, skipping ahead of the brunette a few steps. She feels a hand clasp around her arm and drag her backwards.
“What did you do today?” Rachel asks, deciding that Quinn’s probably heard enough Amy-stories this week. As they walk along the lane that will take them out near the play park, Rachel realises that her hand is still clasped loosely around Quinn’s wrist and that the blonde doesn’t appear to mind the contact at all.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Quinn says mysteriously, praying that she isn’t blushing as she recalls her afternoon in front of the mirror.
“So nothing?” Rachel asks, arching an eyebrow. “Are you intent on wasting your entire summer vacation? You could come to the camp and help out if you want? Aren’t you bored?”
“I’m not wasting my entire summer vacation, Veronica Mars,” Quinn says, trying to avoid looking down at Rachel’s hand for fear that the brunette might let go.
“Veronica who?” Rachel asks, scrunching her face up.
“See? This is how I’m spending my summer. I’m watching copious amounts of television so that I can completely confuse you with references,” Quinn says triumphantly. “And there’s only one week left of camp. Then you’ll be as bored as I am.”
Rachel makes a face, a guilty face.
“Rachel?”
“My dads and I are going to my grandparents for a week. They sprung it on me earlier today, but then I have no plans for the rest of vacation!” Rachel says, squeezing Quinn’s wrist. “It’s just another week. Then you can have me all to yourself.”
Quinn swears she feels her heart skip ever-so-slightly when Rachel says this and her earlier ‘workout’ daydream pops back into her head. She’s aware that the brunette by her side is babbling away now, apologising for not being around and that Rachel is completely oblivious to the gormless look on Quinn’s face as her mind transports her from her bed to her kitchen where Rachel is sitting on the breakfast bar and…
“…dinner tomorrow night?” Rachel finishes her question.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” Quinn repeats vacantly.
“Okay,” Rachel says, dropping Quinn’s arm and rounding to face the blonde. “What is going on with you tonight? You’re completely distracted. You’re not even listening to me.” Rachel pouts slightly.
“I have stuff on my mind,” Quinn says vaguely, tearing her gaze from Rachel’s lips to look into her eyes. The brunette looks a little concerned but turns to continue their walk.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Rachel says, placing a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“I know,” Quinn nods. “Thanks Rach.” Quinn starts to guide them through the park, stopping near a clump of trees and gesturing to the grass. “How about here?” Rachel nods her approval and flops down onto the grass. Quinn chuckles and descends gracefully, lying down next to the brunette.
“So do you want to come for dinner tomorrow night? My dads are going out for dinner with some work colleagues so I was thinking about ordering…”
“Thai?” Quinn supplies with a quick grin. “I’ll be there.”
The pair lapse into silence and Rachel lies back onto the grass, sighing contentedly as she watches the clouds above drift past. Quinn reaches into her pocket and fishes out her phone and headphones, offering a bud to the brunette before scrolling through her list of albums and selecting an artist that she knows Rachel likes.
After a few songs, Quinn turns her head to the right, taking in Rachel’s profile. A smile plays on the brunette’s lips as she hums along with the music. The sunlight catches in the strands of hair covering her forehead. Quinn feels herself take a deep breath as the knot of nerves starts to form again and Rachel turns to look at her.
“Hi,” the brunette murmurs, teeth biting down on her bottom lip.
“Hey,” Quinn replies. “Will you go out with me?”
At the sudden look of surprise on Rachel’s face, Quinn starts to panic and jumps to her feet, grimacing as the headphone jerks out of her ear. She starts to walk back towards her house, cursing herself inwardly for blurting the question so awkwardly. She can hear fast footsteps behind her and a hand tugging her arm.
“Quinn,” Rachel says, pulling the blonde around to face her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go somewhere dark and die of embarrassment,” Quinn says, screwing up her face and trying to move away from Rachel.
“So you don’t want to hear my answer?” Rachel asks, a little incredulously. Quinn shrugs, looking down at the ground with a furious blush on her face and Rachel sighs. “Quinn, look at me.” Reluctantly, Quinn’s eyes travel upwards over Rachel’s body until they meet the brunette’s. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Quinn whispers, a small smile ghosting over her lips.
“I’m incredibly flattered,” Rachel begins. “Really, you have no idea how flattered I am…”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Quinn says despondently, trying to retract her arm from Rachel’s grasp.
“Let me finish, please,” Rachel insists, tightening her grip on the blonde’s arm and pulling her closer. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Quinn repeats.
“Yes,” Rachel confirms with a nod of her head, loosening her hold on Quinn. “Tomorrow? Since we’re having dinner together anyway?”
“Tomorrow?” Quinn echoes.
“Breadstix at eight?” Rachel asks.
“Sure,” Quinn says, a little confused about who is asking who out now.
“You’ll pick me up?”
“Okay,” Quinn says with a nod. They’ve reached her house and Rachel grins.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she says.
“Aren’t you coming in? We could watch a movie or something?” Quinn says.
“Quinn, I have a date tomorrow night. I have to go pick out an outfit. I might have to enlist the help of Kurt and Mercedes for that,” Rachel says, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
“I can give you a ride home, if you want,” Quinn says hurriedly, retrieving her keys from her pocket. “I don’t mind.” She’s already ushering Rachel towards the car as the brunette protests about being able to walk. The journey is silent and as Quinn draws up in front of the brunette’s house, Rachel turns to look at her.
“Thank you,” she says, leaning across to peck Quinn’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Quinn nods rapidly. “Good night, Quinn.”
“Night Rachel,” Quinn says, watching as Rachel exits the car. The brunette turns to wave as she climbs onto her porch and Quinn raises her hand, a grin spreading across her face. Once Rachel is inside, Quinn leans back against her seat and punches the air. Her excitement and relief is almost palpable but as she drives home, a feeling of dread starts to creep in. She’s going on a date. She’s going on a date with Rachel Berry.
Despite rehearsing her question for two hours and thirteen minutes, Quinn has failed to prepare for what would happen if Rachel said yes.
She takes a right at the end of the street and heads towards a different part of town. As expected, two familiar cars are parked in the driveway.
Santana answers the door and quirks an eyebrow.
“Well, look who’s returned from the Land of Munchkins,” she says. “Come back to play with people your own size?”
“You’re one to talk,” Quinn says. “I barely see you and Britt nowadays.”
“At least my girlfriend is hot,” Santana counters. “And dresses in clothes not designed for pre-schoolers.” Quinn rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” the blonde says, turning to walk down the steps. She hears Santana exhale and pauses as she’s called back to the house. “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way.” Santana gives her a disbelieving look. “What?”
“Please, the way you two act around each other? You’re about as subtle as Schuester’s love of vests.”
Quinn blushes and glances away.
“We’re going on a date tomorrow. I asked her out,” the blonde says quietly. “And now I’m panicking a little.”
“Because?” Santana asks, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. She gives the blonde an appraising look. “Is it because she’s a girl?”
“You know that doesn’t bother me,” Quinn says earnestly. “It’s because she’s Rachel. I really like her and I don’t want to mess this up.”
Santana sighs, her stance softening.
“Then I guess you better come in.”
Quinn gives her friend a grateful smile and steps over the threshold.
“Thanks S,” she says quietly.
“You need all the help you can get.”
**
“No, no, no,” Kurt says, tossing skirt after shirt after blouse onto the floor as he empties Rachel’s wardrobe. “How can this be? We’ve been friends for a while now, Rachel. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Rachel lies back on her bed, pouting at the ceiling. Mercedes sits down next to her, taking the shorter brunette’s hand in hers.
“We’ll find you something,” she says reassuringly. “Kurt, please try to be more supportive.”
The boy turns around, holding up a plaid shirt.
“This, maybe,” he says, with a half-shrug before tossing it on the pile and walking over to the bed. “Rachel, I’m going to go shopping tomorrow and then I’ll come straight over when you’re finished with ballet.”
“Really?” Rachel asks, making a face. “You won’t buy anything too…” She pauses, searching for the right word, her eyes raking over the boy’s outfit.
“Too what?” Kurt asks, flicking a piece of lint from his limited edition, vintage Gucci sweater, a slight look of disdain on his face.
“Extravagant?” Rachel makes a face. “Or expensive…”
“Rachel, I know your style. I’m actually thinking of something very casual. And I do like the plaid shirt,” he says, gesturing to the crumpled material at the top of the pile of clothes on the floor. “Don’t worry. You’re going to look fabulous.”
Rachel is about to thank him when Mercedes’ phone bursts to life. Mercedes gives the screen a quick glance and excuses herself from the room, pressing the ear to her phone as she leaves. Kurt jumps up from the bed and begins organising Rachel’s wardrobe again.
“So, how are you feeling? About the date?” he asks. Rachel sits up and shrugs slightly. She spreads her fingers out over the bedspread, tracing the patterns on the fabric with her fingertips.
“This is going to sound strange,” Rachel begins, glancing over at the photo of the Glee club at their last rehearsal before summer vacation started. Quinn hates it because she’s making a goofy face, which, naturally, is the very reason that Rachel loves it.
“Rachel Berry and strange… I think I can handle it,” Kurt says, throwing a grin over his shoulder.
“It just makes sense. When she asked me, I was surprised. I was more surprised by the way she asked, she was quite blunt, but I wasn’t shocked. I think things have been moving towards this for a while and it just feels like a completely natural progression in our friendship,” Rachel says.
“So… you’re excited?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow as Rachel comes to the end of her babble.
“Yes,” Rachel confirms with a quick nod. Mercedes rejoins them, a smile playing on her lips. “Is everything okay?”
“Hm?” Mercedes murmurs, looking up from her phone and glancing at Kurt. “Yes. Great. Kurt, we should probably let Rachel get some rest for her big day tomorrow.” She leans down to give Rachel a hug and grabs Kurt’s arm, whispering quickly in his ear. His eyes light up.
“Yes, we better go!” he declares, reaching for his car keys. Rachel frowns as the pair make a hasty exit from her room, calling goodbyes to Rachel’s dads and their remaining guests in the lounge.
She moves quickly to her window and watches as her friends walk quickly to Kurt’s car. Mercedes is explaining something, gesturing expansively until they get in the car. Rachel shakes her head and moves back to her bed. She lies back on top of the bedspread again, hands clasped over her abdomen and grins up at the ceiling.
“I have a date,” she whispers to herself.
**
Quinn has been watching the minutes pass by on her phone for the last half an hour. She’s been ready for the past hour and the nervous knot in her stomach is now making her feel a little dizzy. She jumps and drops her phone as another message comes through from Mercedes, finalising details for the evening. She replies and decides that it’s time to go.
Her reflection gives her a nervous smile before she leaves her room and as she leaves her house, she realises that she’s forgotten the flowers she’d bought earlier that day. After retrieving them, shaking off the excess water, she mentally goes through everything else she needs. Purse, keys, phone. Taking one last breath, she leaves her house and makes her way to the Berry’s.
Michael opens the door moments after she rings the doorbell, a stern look on his face.
“Mr Berry… I thought you were going out for dinner tonight,” Quinn stammers slightly, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“We’re just about to leave,” he says, eyeing the bouquet of flowers in Quinn’s right hand. “I thought it might be prudent to lay down some ground rules. You are here to pick up our daughter for a date, after all.”
“Ground rules?” Quinn asks, heart beating loudly in her chest.
“Michael!” the voice of Rachel’s other dad calls from inside the house. “Stop it.” The taller of the two men appears in the doorway with a smile on his face. “She brought flowers! That Finn boy never brought flowers!” Quinn blushes a shade or two off crimson and clears her throat.
“Is Rachel ready?” she asks nervously, interrupting the two men.
“You’ve scared her,” Raymond chastises, slapping his husband’s shoulder lightly. “Come in. Rachel’s nearly ready.”
“I wasn’t kidding about those ground rules,” Michael says as Quinn passes, though now there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Rachel, Quinn’s here! And we’re about to leave!”
A garbled response filters down from Rachel’s room and the two men roll their eyes.
“She’ll be down in a minute,” Raymond says. “So, ground rules?” He glances at his husband.
“Home by midnight,” Michael says, holding up his left hand and counting things off on his fingers. “No alcohol.”
“They’re seventeen,” Raymond interjects.
“No alcohol,” Michael reiterates and Quinn nods. “Or drugs.”
“This is our daughter we’re talking about,” Raymond says. “Quinn’s not exactly a hell-raiser.”
“Remember no means no,” Michael continues unabated as Rachel hurries down the stairs. Quinn casts a quick look at the brunette, feeling her mouth run dry.
“Dad, whatever you’re doing to scare Quinn, stop it,” she says, stopping at Quinn’s side and shooting a glare at her shorter father. “We’re mature, responsible teenagers.”
“No tattoos,” is Michael’s response, checking off another finger.
“That’s really more of a third date thing…” Quinn jokes. Rachel gives her a look as Raymond begins to chuckle. “Can we please go before your dad comes up with more rules?”
“Yes,” Rachel says. “Are those for me?” Quinn nods and holds out the flowers.
“Someone told me you like gerberas,” Quinn shrugs, ducking her head shyly. “Even if you told me that your favourite flowers are lilies.”
“I like both,” Rachel says, beaming at the blonde. “I’ll go put these in water.” She glances between both of her fathers. “Behave.”
As soon as she’s out of the room, Raymond pipes up.
“Just have fun, okay?” he crosses the room to squeeze Quinn’s shoulder. “We trust you.” Michael clears his throat. “Well, I do. And I trust Rachel. And we’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”
Rachel returns, carrying the newly-arranged flowers in a vase and displays them proudly on the mantelpiece.
“They’re lovely,” she says, giving Quinn another smile. “Are you ready?” Quinn nods and leads Rachel out of the house.
“Be safe!” Michael calls as they walk down the path towards Quinn’s car where the blonde holds the passenger door open. Rachel smiles and waits for Quinn to join her in the car.
“I’m sorry about them,” Rachel says, a grimace on her face. “It’s just the first time since Finn… I thought they’d have gone by the time you arrived and we wouldn’t have to go through that.”
“It’s okay. No drugs, alcohol or tattoos and be home by midnight,” Quinn says. “I think I can adhere to those rules. I’ll cancel the sky dive and the fire breathing. And the visit to the West Lima crack district.”
“Funny,” Rachel deadpans. Quinn chuckles as she puts the car in gear and drives towards Breadstix, momentarily forgetting to be nervous.
“You look great,” Quinn says, glancing over at the brunette. “I love that shirt.”
“Thank you!” Rachel looks down at her outfit. The shirt is the only item of clothing that belonged to Rachel prior to Kurt showing up that afternoon with far too many bags of clothes and shoes. “You look good too. I mean, great. Amazing actually.” Rachel blushes. “Feel free to stop me anytime.”
“It’s okay. Please continue.”
Quinn pulls into the parking lot at Breadstix and Rachel looks around in concern at the amount of cars.
“Do you think we’ll get a table?” Rachel asks as they walk towards the restaurant.
“It’s already booked,” Quinn says, pushing the door open and holding it for Rachel. A waitress appears immediately to lead them to their table. “I had Santana pull some strings. She has a surprising amount of clout in this place. Then again, I’m pretty sure she accounts for half of their yearly revenue…”
They settle in their booth and Rachel glances around.
“This is nice,” she says, reaching across the table to take Quinn’s hand. Their fingers interlink perfectly and both girls smile. “So Santana helped you out?”
“She did,” Quinn nods. “What about Kurt and Mercedes? Did Kurt try to dress you in an Alexander McQueen jumpsuit?”
“Close,” Rachel laughs. “He let me wear my own shirt. Everything else arrived at my house a few hours ago in bags.” Quinn ducks her head and smiles shyly. “What?”
“I like whatever you dress in,” the blonde replies. The waitress returns to the table with a basket of complimentary breadsticks and Quinn offers them to Rachel first before selecting her own.
“Have you been thinking about this for a while? Asking me out?” Rachel asks, still preoccupied by the feeling of Quinn’s hand in her own. “Is that a bad question to ask? I’m really not good at this dating thing. I probably shouldn’t say that either. Kurt and Mercedes tried to give me all these tips on what I should and shouldn’t say…”
Feeling Quinn squeeze her fingers causes the brunette to stop talking.
“Yes,” Quinn says simply. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And you don’t have to worry about what you should and shouldn’t say, Rachel. You’re my friend and you don’t have to worry about stuff like that. Not with me.”
“Okay,” Rachel replies meekly.
“Plus, Kurt and Mercedes? When was the last time either of them even had a date?” Quinn asks, raising an eyebrow. “If you wanted dating advice, Tina and Mike are probably your safest bet.”
“True,” Rachel says reflectively before handing Quinn a menu. Despite the fact that she, without fail, orders meatballs every time she comes to Breadstix, Quinn reads over the descriptions next to all of the main courses. “Meatballs?” Rachel asks, breaking the blonde’s concentration. She glances up with a smile. “Are you ever going to try something different? What about something vegan?”
“Pass,” Quinn says, scrunching up her nose.
“You can try some of mine if you want? It’s not all tofu and vegetables…”
“I like vegetables!” Quinn insists. “Except…”
“Broccoli,” Rachel rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t taste like anything.”
“And that’s why I don’t like it,” Quinn concludes as the waitress comes back to their table, notepad and pen poised for action. Rachel orders first before Quinn explains how she wants her meatballs.
“You’re as bad as Santana,” Rachel muses, slipping her hand back into Quinn’s. They lapse into silence, glancing around the restaurant at the other patrons.
“Are you busy-?”
“My dads-”
Both girls laugh as they start talking at the same time.
“You first,” Quinn says, reaching for another breadstick.
“No, you,” Rachel insists.
“Okay, I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
“And I was going to say that my dads are going to visit a couple of friends tomorrow afternoon so if you wanted to come over and watch a movie or have lunch or dinner or…”
“That sounds good,” Quinn interrupts before Rachel bumbles off into a long-winded ramble. “All of it.”
“Great,” Rachel says. “Good. Cool.”
“So that’s… good then?”
“Yes, Quinn. I couldn’t pick an affirmative answer, so I used three,” Rachel says, breaking off a piece of her breadstick and throwing it in Quinn’s direction. It bounces off the blonde’s forehead and lands on the table in front of her. Quinn’s mouth falls open in mock surprise.
“Your aim is really good,” she says, tossing the piece of breadstick back at the brunette. Rachel ducks and it ricochets off the bald spot of the man at the table behind them. Quinn turns crimson as Rachel tries to cover her laugh with a fake coughing fit. The man turns around, frowning heavily at Quinn who quickly apologises.
“Your aim is kind of sucky,” Rachel notes quietly, a smirk on her face. Quinn is about to disagree politely when their food arrives and her attention is diverted. She picks up the dish of sauce she specifically asked to be left ‘on the side’ and pours it generously over the meatballs, making sure that she coats every visible millimetre. Rachel watches in amusement until Quinn sets the dish down on the table again. “Satisfied?”
“Incredibly,” Quinn says, reaching for her knife and fork. “Bon appetit.”
**
“And there’s a little here… and a little here…” Rachel presses her fingertip to Quinn’s cheek. “And just a little…” The blonde rolls her eyes.
“Really?” she asks, guiding Rachel out of the restaurant towards her car.
“No,” Rachel responds, skipping away gleefully. “Except the last one. Spaghetti is a messy food. Especially with all the sauce you drowned it in…”
“…and that is why napkins were invented,” Quinn declares, wiping her left cheek with the back of her hand as she chases after Rachel. The shorter girl is leaning against the car, a smile on her face, when Quinn catches up.
“Hi,” the brunette says shyly as Quinn steps a little closer, feeling a nervous flutter in her stomach.
“Hey,” Quinn replies. “Let’s take a walk?”
“Is this the part of the date where we go for a walk through the park and you murder me by the fountain, leaving me for a random jogger to find?”
Quinn stares agog at the brunette.
“Please remind me to stop watching horror movies with you,” Quinn says, opening the car door for Rachel to hop in. When she slides into the driver’s seat, she turns to face the brunette. “And I wouldn’t leave you by the fountain. I’d drown you in the lake.”
“Ah, the lake,” Rachel muses. “Bold choice.”
Quinn chuckles as she reverses out of her parking space and drives towards the park. It’s a beautiful evening in Lima. There are groups of people still dotted around the park, enjoying the sunset, lazing on blankets, playing Frisbee but Quinn leads Rachel away from them towards the lake.
“Oh god, you were kidding about the lake, weren’t you?” Rachel asks, squeezing Quinn’s hand and trying to drag her back towards the car.
“Come on,” Quinn says, tugging the brunette along the path. They round a corner and Rachel perks up immediately as she spies the bandstand. The bandstand which is full of people. People who are singing. People including Mercedes, Kurt, Brittany, Blaine and a very reluctant-looking Santana. As Quinn and Rachel approach, they finish their song and Blaine starts to play familiar chords on the keyboard they’ve set up.
“I love this song,” she says, glancing at Quinn.
“Do you want to dance?” Quinn asks, turning to face Rachel. The brunette nods shyly and they fall naturally into position, Quinn’s hands on Rachel’s waist while Rachel’s hands link behind Quinn’s neck.
“I’ve never slow-danced with anyone before,” Rachel says quietly as they begin to turn in slow circles. “Except my cousin… but we were seven so I don’t think it counts.”
“Listen,” Quinn whispers and Rachel blushes, falling silent as Mercedes’ voice rings out from the bandstand.
“I dare you to let me be, your one and only. I promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms.”
As the song plays out, the others join in and there are harmonies and crescendos and Quinn leaning closer and heart rates increasing.
“Not here,” Rachel murmurs as Quinn leans her forehead against the shorter girl’s. “I want to… but I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of our friends. And Santana.”
“Then maybe I should take you home,” Quinn replies as the song reaches it’s final notes.
“I’m very much behind that plan,” Rachel nods her agreement. They applaud Mercedes and the others, laughing as Kurt and Brittany make extravagant bows. Before they leave, Quinn gives a thumbs up to Mercedes who winks in return.
The journey to Rachel’s house feels like a lifetime for Quinn. Rachel is fidgeting in the passenger seat.
“Is something wrong?” Quinn asks, glancing back and forth between the road and the brunette next to her.
“No,” Rachel responds quickly. “Nothing. This evening has been perfect; the flowers, the meal, the dance… I just don’t want to ruin anything.”
“You won’t,” Quinn reassures her, reaching across to take Rachel’s hand. She pulls up in front of Rachel’s house and they walk up the path in silence, pausing on the porch.
“So, this would be where we say goodnight,” Rachel says, a little despondently.
“I believe so,” Quinn smiles, stepping a little closer to the brunette. “Can you let your fathers know that we stuck to the rules? No drinking, drugs, tattoos…”
“I’ll tell them,” Rachel laughs, intertwining her fingers with Quinn’s. “Good night, Quinn.”
“Night Rachel,” the blonde replies and turns to leave, whistling as she walks down the path, leaving Rachel dumbfounded. She opens her mouth, spluttering over her words.
“That’s it?” she calls.
“Am I forgetting something?” Quinn asks, turning around to face the brunette.
“In the park… we nearly… you’re kidding, right?”
“Kidding about what?” Quinn asks, her face serious as she walks back towards the brunette. Rachel flounders for another couple of seconds before Quinn breaks down in giggles.
“Not funny,” Rachel huffs, pushing Quinn away as she goes to unlock the front door.
“It was a little funny,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist. The shorter girl squirms until she’s facing the blonde.
“It wasn’t,” she pouts. Quinn bites her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second before leaning forward.
“Forgive me?” she murmurs.
Rachel barely has time to mutter her answer. Quinn’s lips are tentative against hers at first, something she’s never experienced with anyone she’s kissed before. She feels Quinn’s hands tighten on her waist as the blonde closes the little space between them.
Rachel feels her lips part, moaning softly, and Quinn pulls back slightly, staring breathlessly at the brunette.
“Well, that was…”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to…?”
“Quinn, why are you still talking?” Rachel asks, exasperatedly, pulling the blonde back towards her, their lips crashing together as the kiss deepens, bodies meshing together. They’re so completely wrapped up in each other that they don’t hear the car pull up in the driveway or the sound of two doors slamming or the footsteps on the path or the sound of Michael clearing his throat.
He tries again while his husband stands a few feet behind him, trying not to snort.
Quinn’s eyes pop open as the sound registers somewhere in her mind and she pushes away from Rachel.
“What are you…?” Rachel starts to demand until she notices that Quinn is gesturing wildly to her left. “Oh.” She turns crimson when she meets her father’s eye. “Hi, daddy.”
“I should go,” Quinn says hastily. “Call me later to let me know if you survive.”
“I will,” Rachel says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Quinn quickly makes her way down the path, refusing to meet Michael’s eye but gives Raymond a huge grin as she passes the taller man.
“Good night, Quinn,” he calls, waving as the blonde retreats.
“Inside!” Michael calls, gesturing for Rachel to go into the house.
“Oh please, Mike. You and I did a lot more on our first date!” Raymond says, brushing past his husband as he makes his way into the house. Rachel scrunches up her face.
“That was an overshare,” she says, following her dad inside. Michael is hot on her heels. “Quinn would like you to know that we did not succumb to the evils of drink, drugs or body modification.” Rachel rolls her eyes as Michael inspects her arms before nodding. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, honey!” Raymond calls, settling down on the couch.
“Night!” Rachel presses a kiss to the top of her dad’s head and makes her way to the stairs. Michael sits down on the couch next to his husband and sighs.
“You remember our first date?” he asks quietly.
“We’re not that old,” Raymond says, reaching for the remote control. “I seem to remember that someone’s parents walked in on us too and they were a lot more relaxed than you’re acting.”
“My parents were hippies! They were stoned!”
“I’m pretty sure we were too. Maybe we should get some weed…” Raymond muses, stroking his chin contemplatively.
Michael gives his husband a look before rolling his eyes and grabbing the remote.
**
Quinn is surprised to find her mom’s car in the driveway when she arrives home.
“Hi sweetie, how was your evening?” she calls from the kitchen as soon as Quinn opens the front door. Bewildered, Quinn makes her way through the lounge and opens the door to the kitchen. Her mom is filling in squares on her calendar.
“It was good,” Quinn says.
“Did you do anything exciting?”
“I got pulled over by the cops,” Quinn answers, folding her arms across her chest in slight amusement.
“That’s great!”
“They fined me five hundred dollars for speeding…” Quinn continues.
“Excellent!”
“…And I’m probably going to go to jail because they found my stash of cocaine in the trunk.”
“Fantastic!”
Quinn sighs in exasperation.
“Mom, I’m pregnant,” she says, waiting for any sort of reaction. Judy fills in the last square and glances up, dropping her pen.
“What?” she asks, the colour draining from her face.
“I’m kidding,” Quinn says, walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “But I did go out with Rachel tonight. On a date. It was amazing. And I think I’m in love with her.”
The older Fabray pauses for a second, mouth hanging open in shock.
“But you’re definitely not pregnant?”