WHAT: Rachel meets Quinn and her daughter Harlow for a beach date.
WARNINGS: fluff; lots of it
Skateboarding the half mile to the beach is something Rachel’s done countless times before. Deciding to do so with a full backpack strapped to her person, a beach umbrella under one arm, and a small, foam surfboard tucked underneath the other? Well that’s a new challenge. She could have driven the short distance, but parking is always at a premium first thing in the morning and since she and Quinn set up their date for the afternoon in order to give the nurse plenty of time to sleep and recover from her night at work, Rachel doesn’t feel like driving around in circles in hopes of finding a space when she could just as easily skate. Or she guesses she could have walked, too, though that mode of transportation wouldn’t have been nearly as quick. Or fun. Or as slightly dangerous. But she somehow manages the balancing act, which is good because Rachel wouldn’t want to have to explain the appearance of a fresh scrape or scratch to Quinn.
Finding a spot on the beach is much easier than it would have been finding a place to park and Rachel sets up shop quick enough. She pops open the yellow umbrella and gets it tied down before spreading out the quilt, one with weighted corners she uses for the beach, and then slathers on sunscreen. She fires off a text with an attached photo of her current location to Quinn to let her know she’s arrived and then sits back, relaxes, and waits for the girls to arrive.
QUINN
While Rachel makes it to the beach relatively easily, Quinn is the one stuck driving in circles until a spot opens up somewhat mercifully close. Harlow is practically buzzing with energy, straining to get out of her car seat and onto the sand. She doesn't really remember Rachel, but she knows the beach, so talking her into going takes no time at all. And as soon as Quinn unbuckles the car seat, her little girl is squirming and scrambling out of the SUV with a quickness, water shoes smacking against the pavement as she all but drops out of Quinn's arms.
"Harlow," she vocalizes, grabbing onto the little girl's shoulder until she has her focus. Once she does she continues with both her voice and her hands. "Stay with Mommy. Right here. If you run off by yourself, we'll go home." Which she really doesn't want to do. What kind of date would Rachel think she is, cancelling literally at the last second? Thankfully the threat, because Harlow knows she's not just saying so, works and she rocks back and forth in her place, little hands waving for the sand and the water.
Once she's got her bag on her shoulder and Harlow's hand in her own, they make the trek to the sand. Spotting Rachel isn't too difficult. Her umbrella is almost blinding. Smiling, Quinn approaches and lets her daughter's hand go to talk to the brunette. "Hi, Rachel. Sorry, we had to find a place to park." A beat and then just a little slower so Harlow can catch her name. "You remember Harlow?"
RACHEL
Rachel wants nothing more than to push up onto her feet, wrap Quinn up in her arms, and kiss those lips that have been on her mind since Friday. But another girl requires her attention first, so Rachel only pushes up until she’s sitting cross-legged. She tips her sunglasses up until they’re resting in the waves of her hair and locks her eyes on the little girl whose attention seems to be split between herself and the surf.
“Of course. How could I forget?” Rachel waves and smiles at the girl before taking a deep breath. She’s practiced these signs more times than she’d like to admit over the past few days. There’s been plenty of time spent in front of the bathroom mirror and running through the alphabet countless times while watching television or hanging out with her boys. When Rachel’s sure she has the full focus of bright blue eyes, she brings her right palm to her chest. “My...” Her hand drops, index and middle fingers of both hands sticking out while the others curl into her palm. She knocks them together twice to form an ‘X.’ “...name is...” Then, each shape her hand creates is slow and deliberate as she finger spells R-A-C-H-E-L before reaching out and holding out her closed fist for Harlow to bump.
QUINN
Did it suddenly get hot? Logically, she knows there's no spontaneous heat wave coming off the clear, calm seventy-nine degree La Jolla surf. But her knees go a little weak and maybe her eyes flutter, and she would rather explain her split-second swooning on the weather than on the fact that Rachel just so earnestly went out of her way to communicate with her daughter. Unprompted. She herself didn't even know Rachel had been thinking about it. She would have helped, but...
She must be smiling something fierce because her cheeks hurt, and she brings her free hand up to her face to palm at her hot cheek. Harlow's eyes go a little wide, and she steps forward, closer to Rachel, staring at the brunette's hands before trying to recreate her name. Little hands and little fingers move, slowly, but she gets a little confused between the ‘H’ and the ‘E’ and immediately turns around to look at Quinn for guidance.
"Here, baby, watch." Kneeling down in the sand, Quinn shoots Rachel a quick, blushing smile before holding up her hands and demonstrating again, this time with Rachel herself. "R-A-C-H-E-L." Little fingers work through the letters. "R-A-C-H-E-L." Third time is mostly the charm because Harlow does it as best she can and laughs a little bit before waving almost right in Rachel's face.
RACHEL
The googling and subsequent practice and teasing from her boys weren’t all for naught or a total bust apparently because Harlow’s little waving hand and her unique laugh might just be the best reward and she can’t help the wide grin that takes over her face. It’s why when she tips towards Quinn, who’s now close enough to properly greet, that the nurse gets more smile than lips when Rachel presses a quick kiss to her cheek along with a soft, “Thanks for the help. So glad you guys are here.”
Looking at Harlow again, Rachel asks, “You excited to go swimming, little guppy?” She looks ready with her little water shows and blue suit and matching blue bow in her hair. “What’s our routine here? Do we need to get sunscreened up?”
QUINN
Harlow sees Rachel's mouth move, but Quinn can tell there's not too much comprehension happening. And she's too busy watching Rachel to watch Quinn's hands translate. It's cute, though. Really cute. Rachel introduced herself, and now her daughter is a little transfixed. Maybe it's partly because Rachel looks so different from anyone they know. Jesse might have dark hair, but he's just as fair as she and Harlow are. Rachel's dark and golden and completely different. And gorgeous. Though she's not sure that's Harlow's appreciation. More of her own really.
"Harlow," she speaks and signs, finally pulling attention back to herself. "Get your sunscreen out of the bag. Rachel wants to go swimming with you." The fact that she has to remind the little girl of that makes her smile. She'd been so obsessed with all but plunging into the water before, but Rachel's totally tripped her up.
As soon as she all but sticks her little strawberry-blonde head into their beach bag, Quinn leans in and kisses Rachel, softly and quickly, on the mouth. Her hand strokes the brunette's cheek once before falling back to her side. "You need to stop being so great."
RACHEL
Even though the blush won’t show, Rachel still feels her cheeks heat at Quinn’s words. Her lips are still tingling and there’s an added warmth blooming down her neck and across her chest that makes the loose tank top she has on over her swimsuit top feel too warm even in the shade of the umbrella. With a slight shake of her head that has a few wavy strands falling into her eyes until she tucks them back behind an ear, Rachel teases, “Don’t think I can comply with that order, Nightingale. I kind of like you too much for that.”
Which is why Rachel’s putting forth the effort she is. While she enjoys the adult-only time she and Quinn have had together, she knows she’d be a fool to ignore the fact that Quinn’s daughter is the most important aspect in her life. Knowing how easily kids can grow attached to someone, Rachel doesn’t know how often Quinn lets new people into their lives for the fear that they won’t work out, so she feels grateful that she’s been given the opportunity and chance.
With Harlow still busy rummaging through her bag, Rachel tips her head toward her own. The blue neoprene of the top of a tiny life vest is poking through where the zipper remains open. She doesn’t know if Harlow’s swimming is more or less splashing in the surf or actually involves wading into the water. “I brought her a surprise. What we talked about. And a little board, too, that she could float around on if she wanted.”
QUINN
What they talked about. They've had a few conversations, and it takes Quinn a few moments to realize what exactly Rachel's talking about, and maybe it's completely ridiculous and totally the fault of the fact that she hasn't had any type of romantic relationship since high school, but maybe she falls a tiny, tiny, tiny bit in love with Rachel for it. She's making an actual effort -- a real, true time and money effort -- to do things for her daughter. Her daughter who, while absolutely amazing and the most perfect thing she could have ever hoped to accomplish with her life, has a stark difference that would probably scare most potential girlfriends away. Yet here Rachel is, smiling in the sand learning ASL and buying Harlow lifejackets and boogie boards, wanting her to actively participate in their day.
She thinks maybe her eyes get watery for half a second before she leans in again and kisses Rachel again, lingering this time. "Thank you." A beat, and then more conversationally. "She'll love it. She'll want to go home with you, I hope you know."
Harlow returns then, triumphant with her sunscreen in her hand and signing for 'Mommy.'
"Very good, baby." Quinn kisses a rounded cheek before uncapping the bottle and beginning to apply a generous -- very generous -- amount of sunscreen all over her baby's little body. As fair-skinned as they both are, they burn easily. As soon as she's done, Harlow plucks the sunscreen from her hand, and Quinn knows what she wants. "You want to put some on Mommy now?" A smiling nod, and Quinn agrees, raising up on her knees to pull her breezy cover-up up over her head, leaving her in a mint and white polka dot high-waisted bikini. Harlow's application isn't as precise and neat as her own, but it is rigorous, and by the end of it Quinn's laughing and intercepting the sunscreen back to try and even everything out. "Okay, all done. Thank you."
RACHEL
As Quinn peels off her cover-up, Rachel’s kicking herself that she hasn’t suggested a beach date before now. It’s not that the nurse’s scrubs or the dresses she’s donned on their previous dates and meet-ups haven’t been flattering, but there’s something about the newly revealed skin that has Rachel wishing she could surreptitiously slide her sunglasses back down her nose so that her stare could truly be unabashed. But with Harlow present, Rachel does her best to keep her gaze and internal thoughts PG as she moves to scoot closer to Quinn.
“Here.” Rachel offers her hand. “Let me help you get your back.” With a dollop of sunscreen in hand, Rachel rubs her palms together for a second to get the lotion warm before spreading it along Quinn’s shoulders and back. Her skin’s so soft, and dark eyes follow the movement of tan hands as they map out to protect every inch of smooth, pale skin. “You’re beautiful, Quinn,” Rachel softly says as she works the last of the lotion into the center of her back. “Green’s lovely on you, too.”
QUINN
She and Rachel have kissed. Several times. They've held hands. But that's really it. That's been the extent of their physical contact. The pleasured hum that shoots down her spine and explodes at the bottom of her belly, leaving little tingling jolts through her and raising goosebumps up and down her arms when Rachel rubs sunscreen into her back? It's almost embarrassing. Another woman has never touched her like that. Definitely not while telling her how beautiful she is. She must blush because Harlow reaches up and grabs both her cheeks, patting her face and holding her eyes as if to say 'What's wrong with you, Mommy? Are you hot?' But Quinn distracts her by grabbing her slightly pudgy baby belly and tickling her before pulling her into her lap and turning them both around to face Rachel.
"Rachel brought you something," she shares, meeting Rachel's eyes with a happy smile of her own. "If you ask politely like a big girl, I bet she'll let you see it."
RACHEL
She’s honestly a bit anxious. Clearly her good intentions have won her additional favor with Quinn, but it’s the little squirmy thing in Quinn’s lap and arms that Rachel’s still looking to impress beyond her fancy and limited finger work. Harlow’s eyes are wide, which Rachel takes as a good sign, and then she must do as Quinn suggested and ask politely – her hand moving in circles against her chest – because Quinn nods and excitement shines bright in blue eyes.
“I hear that you don’t always like to wear your life jacket,” Rachel starts as she reaches behind her to pull her backpack into her lap. “But, you’ve got to be safe when you swim. Your mom told me that blue was your favorite color, so...” She pulls the blue vest out of her bag, careful to keep what makes this model special hidden from curious eyes, because right now it looks like any normal life jacket. But with a slowly raising eyebrow, as if to challenge and say ‘wait for it,’ Rachel tips the vest in her hands to show off the blue dorsal fin attached to the back. “A little minnow should have a proper fin to help her swim, right?”
QUINN
Sure she'd figured it might be something of the sort, what with Rachel's line of questioning last week, but seeing it in person and seeing how Harlow waves her hands in the air -- clapping -- before she all but launches herself at the jacket to hold it and turn it around and play with the fin makes Quinn swoon. Hard. How could she have ever imagined that a patient coming into her ER and then happening to cross paths on the beach later would have done this? Could make her feel like she's a teenager, excited and wide-eyed and so open to feeling, all over again? Could make her daughter smile so widely and laugh so often?
But she can't linger on the fact that she wants to kiss the proud smile right off Rachel's face. Harlow's showing her the vest now, begging for it to be put on. "Do you love it, baby?" She asks to enthusiastic nods. "Here, be still. Be still. Okay, okay, okay." By the time she fits it to Harlow's body and snaps it secure, she's laughing at how the little girl is practically jumping up and down in place. "Look at you, little fish. You look like you're ready to do some serious swimming."
Looking up over Harlow's head to meet Rachel's eyes, Quinn smiles, carefully taking the bow out of fine, strawberry blonde hair. "Do you think you can handle her? She's pretty big for a fish."
RACHEL
Rachel shoots the pair a grin, and though she’s fairly certain the more time she spends around Harlow, the more the little girl will have her wrapped around her tiny finger, for now, “While I’m no expert angler, I think we’ll manage just fine.” And knowing that the moment Quinn has her daughter good to go that Harlow, in all her fish fin glory, will be sprinting towards the waves as fast as her little legs will go, Rachel sets about getting herself ready for the water, too.
For just a moment, she considers her options as she stares at the rash guard at the bottom of her bag. While she’d normally be pulling it on for a day at the beach, she does only have a foamie with her. It’s not like she’s going to be paddling out multiple times to catch the perfect wave. And since her skin’s been sun-kissed all summer, and she doesn’t think they’ll be out in the sun for too long, there’s really no need for it so she leaves it where it sits and stands to shed her outer layers.
Her tank top drifts to the ground first and then Rachel fusses with the ties on the white board shorts hanging loose and low on her hips until they drop to the ground, too, leaving her in a yellow bikini. With both now folded pieces of clothing, along with her sunglasses, safely tucked away in her bag so that they’ll stay mostly dry and sand-free, Rachel turns, scoops up the small surfboard, and then holds her hand out to Harlow. “You ready, guppy?”
QUINN
She's probably, definitely staring. Definitely. And to cover, she quickly plucks her sunglasses from the top of her head to shield her eyes. Rachel is gorgeous. Lean and long -- surprisingly so for someone so petite -- and dark golden and... Okay. Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring.
It gets a little easier to do when Harlow scrambles out of her lap. Her focus switches immediately to her daughter, looking extremely adorable in her fish fin lifejacket, who's almost got her hand in Rachel's before she seems to realize that this is someone she doesn't know. And that Quinn isn't joining them. She stops, blinking, and turns to look back at Quinn, obviously conflicted.
"It's okay, baby," she smiles, laying her left hand flat in front of her stomach, palm up and swinging her perpendicular right hand over it. "You'll have fun. Mommy's staying right here watching you."
RACHEL
Well damn. When Quinn asked her if she thought she could handle Harlow, Rachel thought she wasn’t doing anything more than making figurative conversation. It’s honestly a little nerve racking that Quinn is putting so much faith and trust in her. This isn’t just some pool they’re going swimming in, but the ocean with its tides and currents and waves and Rachel knows her eyes must round slightly at being caught off-guard at the sudden responsibility sitting squarely on her shoulders. She can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of test, but with a tiny hand now wrapping around her fingers and tugging, Rachel has no choice but to follow determined little steps toward the sea and no time to dwell on the thought. “See you soon,” Rachel shouts over her shoulder before assuring both Quinn and herself, “We’ll be safe.”
High tide is soon so it doesn’t take long at all to actually hit compact, wet sand and Rachel instinctively grits her teeth in anticipation at the first swell of cool water heading there way. She squeezes the little hand in hers and she tilts her head to check on Harlow, though there’s nothing but excitement in the little girl’s eyes and smile. And then after the initial laughing and squealing as the surf surges over their toes and shins, Harlow’s a kid after Rachel’s own adventure-loving heart because she’s fearless in the way she charges forward and marches straight into the water.
They use the foamie as a makeshift kickboard and floatie of sorts. Rachel alternates between dolphin and frog kicks to guide them, and Harlow’s little legs never stop splashing as they motor back and forth in parallel to the store. Of course, Rachel’s heart ends up in her throat every single time the four-year-old lets go of the board, sticks her head into the water, and attempts a few freestyle strokes. But Harlow’s smiling face always reappears moments later and once Rachel can breathe easier again, she gives the little fish a grinning thumbs up as she brushes back wet curls from her eyes.
It’s maybe been fifteen going on twenty minutes since they entered the water and not wanting Harlow to overly exert herself, Rachel thinks it’s about time for a break. They could of course just kick and swim their way back to the beach – they honestly aren’t that fare off as Rachel’s tip toes can still make contact with the sand – but why do things the simple and boring way? Gaining Harlow’s attention, Rachel points back towards shore and she thinks the little girl understands when she nods. But, Rachel doesn’t immediately angle them in that direction. Instead, she points to Harlow and then pats her own back before maneuvering them both until the little girl is draped over her back and has tiny arms clasped around her shoulders and neck. Patting and squeezing the little hands holding on tight, Rachel treads water for about thirty seconds as she chances glances over her shoulder and waits for the right wave. Finally, she sees it breaking and with a push off from the sandy bottom, they’re boogieboarding back to Quinn on the crest of the wave.
QUINN
If it's a test, it's an unconscious one. Quinn is obviously alert to every move the pair in the water makes, but she's hardly anxious about it. Rachel has some level of her trust. She's shown herself to be nothing but safety-conscious -- when it comes to Harlow anyway -- and very willing to be patient but most importantly not treat the little girl any differently than she needs to be treated. She doesn't hold her awkwardly. She doesn't move too slowly. She doesn't stop every thirty seconds to make sure Harlow's okay. They just play in the water, and Quinn's heart practically melts into the sand the longer she watches them. She can't hear the sounds of her baby laughing that special way she does, but she can see the joy in her little expression, and anything that does that is good in her book.
When they trudge back up the beach, Quinn has to remind herself to not focus on the rivulets of water running down Rachel's belly and instead lifts her eyes to hold blues while Harlow clings to the brunette's back.
"You caught a huge fish," she teases, signing with a dramatic flourish for Harlow's enjoyment. "It's so big. I don't know if I'll be able to fit it in my car to take it home."
RACHEL
“You mean this barnacle?” Rachel shimmies her shoulders until Harlow’s giggle reaches her ears. At the edge of their beach blanket now, Rachel drops the board to the side before carefully lowering her knees to the sand. She gives the little behind her other arm had been securely wrapped around a light tap to let Harlow know it’s safe to disembark. She drops to the sand almost instantly and is then running back into Quinn’s arms.
Joking, “Oh, would you look at that. You’re totally a right. She was a fish after all. A blue-finned guppy. I hear they’re quite rare.” Standing, Rachel brushes off the sand caked to her knees and wrings out the dripping locks of her long hair before she plops underneath the shade of the umbrella. “You’ve got quite the swimmer in training on your hands there.” She gently knocks her shoulder into Quinn’s. “Thanks for letting me take her out. I think we did alright.”
QUINN
"Oh!" She cries out laughing as soon as Harlow launches at her chest, still vibrating with energy and pulling back to try and describe her experience with flailing hands and signs that aren't quite right, but she follows regardless. "You're getting Mommy all wet," she teases, laughing a little louder when Harlow takes that as an invitation to hug her again and rub her wet hair all over Quinn's neck, cheek, shoulder and chest. "Oh, that has your daddy written all over it. Did you like it, baby? You swam so well!"
Harlow nods and finally settles in her lap. She points to Rachel and tries to sign her name but ends up forgetting everything after the ‘R’ and the ‘A’ and keeps plowing through. "Rachel put you on her back? I saw that, baby. Did you like riding the wave back to the beach?" Harlow nods, and Quinn smiles indulgently. "Here, baby, why don't you sit right here--" she lifts her up and sets her on the towel opposite both herself and Rachel. "And have some water and--" She's already rummaging around in their beach bag and pulls out a small, bright pink tupperware container. "Here." Crackers and fruit and some carrots. "There you go, baby."
And while Harlow is distracted with her snacks, she can speak to Rachel directly. "Thank you for that. She loved it."
RACHEL
If this all was some sort of spur of the moment test, Rachel’s certain that between Harlow’s laughing and smiling and excited hands, and Quinn’s soft words that she’s passed with flying colors. That knowledge does wonders to quiet any remaining nerves in favor of allowing the slight fluttering against her chest to be heard instead as Rachel drops a hand between them to edge her fingers into Quinn’s.
With anyone else, holding hands might just be a simple, innocent connection, but considering what Quinn’s hand do -- saving lives and speaking – Rachel finds that there’s an added intimacy when she feels Quinn’s weight and warmth pressing against and kissing her palm. So while to most it might be a simple connection and sign of affection, it’s one Rachel cherishes.
“I had a great time. But you should join us next round.” Rachel knows their relaxing reprieve will only last as long as Harlow snacks, and she teases, “I’ll even give you a ride on my back, too, if you want.”
QUINN
"Oh, you will, will you?" She runs her thumb back and forth across the delicate skin of Rachel's hand. "I know you're vaguely James Bond-esque, but you'd be going from a fish to a whale. Not sure I can do that to you." Smiling, she bumps Rachel's shoulder with her own. "But I'll think about joining you anyway. Sometimes after she gets tired, but doesn't want to leave yet I'll just stand in the water and hold her." She takes a moment to appreciate her little girl sitting at their feet. The sunscreen is working, but her cheeks are flush with exertion and excitement. "I swear she's part-fish."
RACHEL
“I’ll have you know that I’ve done a fireman’s carry with Mike, so even though my double-oh-seven stature is small, it’s also mighty. But I’d like that. You joining us.” Perhaps Rachel just wants to see Quinn with darkened, slicked back, wet hair, or the way that water droplets catch in her long lashes to reflect off the green of her eyes, which Rachel finds herself staring a bit too long. With a couple of blinks, she adds, “And Harlow can always float on the board if she gets too tired.”
Rachel doesn’t let go of Quinn’s hand when she leans over to find the water bottle tucked into a side compartment on her bag. It takes a bit of dexterity to spin off the top with only one hand, but she manages, and after a few refreshing sips, “It’s good that she likes the water so much. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been at the beach just hear some little one crying because the water’s too cold or they’re scared by the waves or the fact that they suddenly can’t touch the bottom any longer. Plus, she just dips her face in like it’s no big deal.” A beat. “One of these days she’s going to sprout fins from her feet instead of her back.”
QUINN
Chuckling, Quinn holds her hand to her forehead, shielding her sunglasses from the more direct rays of the sun. She squints and focuses on Harlow, walking a grape across the towel before biting half of it off. A few years ago, she would have been freaking out already about germs and this and that, but considering some kids eat dirt, she's okay with hers letting her grape touch a laundered beach towel. If children don't expose themselves to less than savory things, they'll never develop a strong immune system. At least that's her thought.
"She does that in the shower, too. Still. Some kids try to avoid getting water in their eyes, I guess, but not her. She sticks her face right in it. Over and over." A beat. "Needless to say that I usually just have to get in the shower with her, or I'll leave the bathroom a sopping mess and in need of one anyway."
Turning to look back at Rachel, she smiles. "So what is it that helps you be so good with her? Are your guy friends really more like children?" She likes what she knows of Puck and Mike and Sam. They seem like fun, even if the four of them together is obviously... a lot at once. "Do you have to hold their hands when they cross the street, or do you all just jump over all the cars to get there?"
RACHEL
If only the answer was as simple as saying she has brothers and sisters. Truthfully though, Rachel believes, “I’m just kind of a big kid at heart myself.” Sure she has responsibilities with school – graduate status alone comes with additional expectations – and lessons. “Work hard, but play hard, right?” Rachel sort of sheepishly shrugs as she taps at the still visible scar at her hairline.
There are home videos that serve as evidence that Rachel has always played hard. From climbing furniture and bookshelves to flinging her little body off swings and flip-flopping off boat docks. The structure of gymnastic classes didn’t curb the daredevil in her, but rather only made her look for the next avenue of fun to be had. And there’s something inherently playful about skating, surfing, and especially freerunning where limits are pushed and rules broken. Rachel wasn’t joking before when she stated that the world is simply one big playground. It just so happens that her boys are the kids she chooses to share the sandbox with.
“We only hold hands while crossing the street and playing Red Rover.” She’s only half joking. They had tried that once, but since they’re all inherently competitive, a childhood game got heated when Puck mistakenly clotheslined Mike and well, they don’t intentionally try to ever injure or harm one another. “I give voice lessons to kids, though. And I’ve helped out at Mike’s gym for some of the camps he’s run.” There’s also the fact that Harlow is Quinn’s, and if putting forth the effort to get to know the girl sitting next to her is worth it, then so is interacting and getting on with her kid.
Which is why Rachel tips forward just enough to peer into the container in Harlow’s hands before she teasingly has her fingers walk up a little leg, scale a cute belly, and climb a tiny arm before snagging a grape from the snack mix. Rachel bops Harlow’s nose with the piece of fruit before giving it a short toss into the air. She catches it in her mouth with ease and grins at the little girl as she chews.
QUINN
She could've never imagined meeting a woman that would be able to play so easily and so... freely with Harlow after such a short time. Or ever, really. There's absolutely nothing self-conscious about the way Rachel interacts with her. And that's something Quinn has learned in her four years of being a mother. She can't think about herself or how she looks or how she might come across to other people. The most important person is her daughter, and if she's not absolutely confident in everything she does, then Harlow will know it. And how can she trust her or feel safe with her then?
"Did Rachel take your grape?" She asks, teasing and full of mock shock and almost offense. Harlow is gaping but smiling, Jesse's blue eyes alight with play. Staring at Rachel, her little hands move, and Quinn translates. "She says that was her grape, Rachel. She wants it back." Then leaning in a little closer, "I don't think we'll get it back, baby. It's already in Rachel's tummy." It's definitely not but hey... keep things simple. Harlow can't have it back regardless.
The toddler surprises her then, pushing herself up and walking right up to Rachel before climbing in her lap and continuing to sign.
"She wants you to do it again." A beat. "Catching the grape in your mouth."
RACHEL
A half hour ago Harlow didn’t even want to take her hand, so now that she suddenly has a lapful of the little girl more than catches Rachel by surprise. It also warms her heart enough that Rachel swears a little piece melts right off and now permanently belongs to this bright-eyed, cherub-faced, sweet little thing. She can’t help but run her hand through strawberry blonde ringlets that are even curlier after their salt bath, before she lets it fall open, palm up, between them.
Quinn signs as she speaks, though Rachel never takes her gaze away from baby blues. “I’m sorry I stole your grape without asking, Harlow. May I please have another?”
Harlow takes a moment to dig through her container. She places three grapes on the quilt next to them that don’t pass muster of her rigorous quality control before she places the fourth grape, one that’s a little elongated, into Rachel’s palm. Turning it over in her palm, Rachel plays up the moment, scrutinizing the piece of fruit and doing a couple of practice throws into the air. Then, “For luck,” Rachel comments, though really it’s because of how cute it is to see her eyes cross and nose crinkle, she bops Harlow’s little nose again and she flicks the grape into the air, just slightly higher than the last toss. Rachel has to chase it a bit to the left and her hands come up to hold a tiny waist in place so she doesn’t dislodge Harlow from her perch on her lap. But Rachel’s victorious, triumphant grin in place when the fruit hits its target against her tongue.
Turning to give Quinn some of her attention once more, Rachel teases, “I’m surprised you aren’t lecturing me about the dangers and risks of choking, Nightingale.”
QUINN
How does the interaction between her daughter and Rachel keep getting sweeter? They've only been on the beach for forty-five minutes or an hour at most, and if she's in for at least another hour or so, she's not sure she'll be able to make it. Her heart might simply give up and quit. It's just a lot. She can't stop smiling. Rachel's smiling. Most importantly, Harlow's smiling. Constantly. Her baby isn't unfriendly by any means, but she is a little wary, especially with new people. With Rachel, it's taken a very short time for her to go very far.
Picking up one of the grapes off the towel, she bites half off and swallows before offering the rest to Harlow. It's a perfectly good grape, but having passed over it once before, the only way she'll use it now is if Quinn eats it first. "Finish your snacks, baby, and we'll get back in the water, okay?" At Harlow's confirming nod, Quinn smiles. "Okay."
Then, leaning in to turn her head away and speak lowly against the brunette's ear, "You're an adult, and I'm very good at CPR." Blushing just so, she pulls back to meet dark eyes, to see the reaction in them.
RACHEL
Even in the heat of the day, and even though Quinn’s breath is warm against her skin, a noticeable shiver rocks the straightness of Rachel’s spine. It runs from the point of contact, the brush of soft lips against the shell and lobe of her ear, down to her now flexing toes and Rachel has to catch her lower lip between her teeth to keep a shuddering release of breath at bay. It takes just a moment then for self-composure, to be certain that the sudden desire that darkened her eyes has settled and that amusement and fondness is once more shining bright.
“Well,” Rachel licks her lips as she measures Quinn’s gaze, “I think in this case the Heimlich would actually be more effective and beneficial.” She waits a purposeful beat. “However, Quinn, for the record I’ll never turn down some mouth to mouth attention from.” And if they didn’t have an audience at the moment, because a quick glance down to her lap confirms Harlow’s bowl of healthy snacks might as well be a bucket of popcorn with the way she’s watching them, Rachel would be claiming that attention, pushing Quinn back against their blanket and towels. But since little eyes are indeed watching, Rachel instead offers nothing more than a pleased grin.
QUINN
Being around Rachel clearly sways and influences her away from the logic and mind she normally always has about her. It isn't until the brunette mentions the Heimlich that she remembers that -- obviously -- you don't offer CPR to someone choking. But she's been legitimately spaced out for a little while now. It was only a matter of time before she said or did something that made a fool out of her. "I promise I'm more than capable as a nurse," she swears, now flush with embarrassment instead of flirtation. "I could take care of you if you choked."
Dropping her eyes and then turning them away to look at Harlow, Quinn sidesteps the awkward moment and leans over to check on what food's left. At this point, her daughter's more picking at the food than eating it, so Quinn correctly assumes, "Are you finished?" A little fist shakes up and down. "Okay. Put the lid back on and put it all away. Then we'll put some more sunscreen on and go to the water." Harlow scampers to the side of the blanket to do as she's told, and Quinn shifts her focus out to the water ahead of them.
RACHEL
The shift in the air is palpable and in response Rachel’s shoulders sag. This certainly isn’t the reaction she was going for, so one hand scrubs down her face as she rethinks her words and looks for the err in her ways.
With Harlow’s full attention once more on their beach bag, Rachel reaches out, her touch soft as her palm cradles a cheek and chin and turns Quinn’s gaze back in her direction. “Hey.” She strokes her thumb against the now more intensified flush of Quinn’s cheek. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I thought I was being cute.” There’s a couple more passes of her thumb against the ridge of bone before she continues. “Remember that I have firsthand knowledge of just how good of a nurse you are, Quinn, and I have no doubt that if I was choking or needed a bone set or just had the sniffles, you’d know exactly what do to fix me right up and make me feel better.” And Rachel hopes her words right now have a similar effect and sooth and chase away whatever little cloud is currently hovering over them.
QUINN
Her pride's a little wounded, but she'll get over it she's sure. With Rachel looking at her with those big eyes, so close, it's difficult to stay... aloof. Not that she was trying to be aloof or distant. It had simply been embarrassment. A flirtation fail, for sure. She'd only made herself look silly. But it's no use in holding onto it. That will only make the rest of their afternoon feel horribly awkward, and she doesn't want the date ruined.
So she leans forward just enough to press a quick kiss to soft lips. "I'm okay," it's spoken just as softly, even though there's no danger of anyone overhearing them.
Harlow pops back over then, holding the sunscreen and smiling at them both. Quinn immediately shifts back into mommy mode and pulls away from Rachel, collecting the bottle and beginning to re-apply sunscreen all over fair skin.
RACHEL
Rachel gets in on the sunscreening this time. Or rather Harlow decides she should be included and Rachel indulges the little girl. She ends up with a smiley face on her left thigh and knee, and battle stripes along her cheeks and nose. She rubs the lotion in when Quinn's making sure Harlow's little life jacket is once more properly secured. When they're all good to go, standing and ready to walk towards the surf, Rachel turns to Harlow, serious expression across her face as she asks, "Do you think you can handle carrying the board this time? It's a very important responsibility, little guppy."
After Quinn's hands stop signing, blonde ringlets bounce this way and that as Harlow eagerly nods and knocks her little fist in the air. Rachel hands over the board; since it's foam, it’s not heavy at all. The only real awkward thing about it is its length, but Harlow seems to be managing just fine, Rachel gives her a thumbs up before she turns to Quinn, her smile curling at the edges. “Excellent. Because I have something else I need to carry.”
She waits just a beat, maybe not even enough for her words to sink in before she’s stepping towards Quinn. Rachel’s movements are swift then as she grabs hold of Quinn’s right wrist, ducks her head underneath as she lifts the arm, and then snakes her hand between Quinn’s legs. When she’s sure her grip around Quinn’s thigh is secure and her core is supported against her shoulders and the broadest bit of her back, Rachel lifts, ignoring the shrieks from both Quinn and Harlow as she stands to her full height. “Let’s go, guppy,” Rachel tips her head toward the sea as she begins to walk, pace steady and quick.
QUINN
The grab and hold -- an actual fireman's carry -- is so fast and so surprising, Quinn has absolutely no idea what's happening. Not until she's shrieked and laughed and yelled her head off and they're halfway to the water. "Oh my God, Rachel!" It's said between peels of laughter as she clings to whatever parts of the other girl she can hold onto. She can just see Harlow to one side, toddling with them as quickly as she can and dragging the board and looking up at them with wide blue eyes and a smiling mouth. "You're crazy put me down, you'll hurt yourself!"
RACHEL
Rachel does as she’s asked, but only when she feels the cool water lapping at her toes. If it was just her and Quinn, Rachel would have zero qualms about walking straight into the waves and plunging both herself and Quinn into the surf as a way to break up any final bits of tension from earlier. But she thinks the carrying itself has done the trick, and even though the little minnow does have on a life vest, she still wants all eyes on Harlow as they head into the ocean.
She sets Quinn down just as easily as she picked her, and when steps back and stretches to her full height again, nothing but a broad grin decorates her features. “Thank you for riding Air Rachel. We appreciate your business and hope you’ll consider us for any future travelling needs.”
QUINN
As soon as she's on her feet looking at Rachel's smug, pretty smile, she gently pushes the brunette's shoulder, laughing, before changing her mind and deciding to pull the other girl into a hug. There are no kisses, not right in front of Harlow, but she holds fast to the brunette, rubs the bare skin of her back with one hand and sighs into wild, wavy dark hair. "You're ridiculous, you know that." It's said with nothing but fondness, affection and maybe even a small touch of adoration. Rachel and Quinn's crush on the girl have come into her life quickly and strongly, becoming that almost all-encompassing new relationship feeling that everyone hopes will never go away. "Ridiculous."
Releasing Rachel, Quinn turns to look out at the water, smiling at the feel of it covering her ankles, then crouches down at her daughter's level. Hands check the little girl's vest, just making sure everything’s fastened and tight, nothing's come loose, then she pats her behind before standing and speaking to her. "What are you going to do with that big old board, baby? Going to catch some waves like Rachel?"
RACHEL
Maybe one of these days when Rachel’s been catching waves herself, when she’s tested out the currents and rip tides and is certain none are strong enough to swipe a little guppy out to sea, she’ll take Harlow out on a longboard and they can cruise some crests together. But for now, she grabs the nose of the foamie, guides it into the water, and then beckons the little fish with a crooked finger. “C’mon, minnow. Round two.”
Having Quinn out in the water with them is ten times more fun. It’s not that isn’t aware of Harlow’s safety – she’s still keeping a watchful eye on the little that loves to kick and flap her arms and stick her face into the water – but with an added set of eyes, Rachel’s able to play more. She does hand stands and somersaults and one flip that ends up as more of a flop. Still, time after time Harlow signs ‘again’ and Rachel obliges.
QUINN
She doesn't mind at all that she's doing more watching and oohing and ahhing and applauding than playing. That's a mother's duty, she feels, to make sure her daughter feels as much adoration and attention as she can. And it starts young, even now at a time when she doubts her daughter will remember once she's grown up. Heeding Harlow's emphatic 'Watch Mommy!' over and over feeds her daughter's confidence in both herself and in Quinn, that she'll always be right there for her.
It doesn't hurt that Rachel's helping. The other girl's seemingly endless energy is a perfect companion for Harlow's. They play with one another easily, and sometimes Harlow waddles over to Quinn so that the both of them can watch Rachel together, little blue eyes rounded wide with awe. And when Harlow finally starts to get that sleepy gait to her walk and her eyes begin to droop, Quinn helps Rachel put the little girl on top of the foamie and holds onto one end, letting her daughter slowly drift back and forth across the water's surface.
RACHEL
Still close to the shore, but out of the immediate shallows, they float. Rachel wiggles a tired little piggy that’s dragging through the water and receives a tiny splash and a sleepy smile in return.
Allowing the next gentle wave to push her closer towards Quinn, Rachel jokes, “Do the folks at Energizer realize that they’ve lost their bunny? That the stork mistakenly dropped her off on your doorstep?” Rachel’s never seen a kid this young with so much boundless energy. She’s honestly a bit eager to get Harlow into Mike’s gym and onto one of the big trampolines. She thinks they could bounce and jump into the foam pit for hours with Harlow’s little laugh as their soundtrack.
Close enough to reach out now, Rachel wraps one arm around Quinn’s waist, savoring the heat of the girl’s skin in contrast to the cool water, and pulls herself close enough to steal a quick kiss. When she pulls back, “Does she get that from you or Jesse? Her energy reserves?”
QUINN
"Jesse, definitely. He never stops. Never."
That was something that drew her to him back in high school. He was relentless... about everything. He flirted and charmed and sweet-talked for weeks before she agreed to go out with him. And once they were together, he was a gentleman. The romantic grand gestures -- high school versions anyway -- never stopped. There were flowers and cards and dates and serenades and romantic words. But even outside of that, Jesse was an endless wealth of energy. He kept himself busy doing anything and everything he could do.
"Not that I can't be a bit feisty when I need to be, but her spunk is all him," she shares, free hand stroking over soft, damp auburn curls. She wets her hand by dipping it in the cool water before laying it against Harlow's forehead. "They're so bad when they're together. My house always looks like a tornado's hit."
RACHEL
They haven’t talked much about Jesse, at least not in specifics. Rachel actually doesn’t know much more now then beyond what she learned on the Fourth, and honestly she’s not sure if she wants to. At least not yet. Her presence in Quinn’s life, while new and exciting, is also fragile and a minor role. While with Jesse, he’s a presence that will never fade. Regardless of what his relationship with Quinn was or is, they will always share a lifetime bond because of Harlow, and that’s something Rachel knows she can never hope to understand or bridge. And that knowledge results in a strange mixture of intimidation and jealousy, two emotions Rachel hasn’t often had to grapple with the past, and two emotions that serve as a reminder now to not get ahead of herself. While no relationship is ever simple, this one with Quinn has the added complications of a child and that child’s father.
“I’d like to see that feistiness sometime.” But maybe on another day. The sun’s dipping a little lower and the baby on board the foamie is breathing a little heavier. Her palms are getting pruney, too, so it’s probably time to call it day. But what a great day it’s been, aside from one minor hiccup. “Should we head back in? Before she falls completely asleep on us?”
QUINN
As much as she wouldn't mind standing in the water feeling Rachel's arm around her waist and the heat from her sun-warmed, bare skin against her side, one look at Harlow gives her her answer. Her baby is definitely on the verge of a nap. She'll likely have one last surge of energy when they make for the beach, just to show that she doesn't 'need a nap, Mommy!', but she'll be asleep before any of them know it. Which is all right. A nap now gives her enough time for dinner and some playing with George later to finally tucker her out before bed. If she doesn't nap, she'll be a nightmare later and fall asleep face-first in her dinner.
Leaning in over the little girl, Quinn touches her shoulder before speaking, "Come on, baby girl. Let's go back to the beach, okay? Time to go home." When Harlow doesn't fight back, Quinn has confirmation that she's tired. When the little girl reaches up, wanting to be held, she laughs and obliges. Oh, yes. That's one zapped little girl. As they wade back toward shore, she looks over at Rachel and shares, "She'll be asleep as soon as I get her into the car." She's quiet then, for a few moments, before, "Would you like to come over for awhile?"
RACHEL
She figured they’d head back up the beach and pack up their things. Rachel would walk Quinn and Harlow to their car and see them off and that would be their day. But apparently their day doesn’t have to end just quite yet and Rachel’s lips curl happily at the offer. “Yeah, I would. I’d love to, actually.” She’ll gladly accept any time to spend with Quinn, to get to know her better, and in this instance if Harlow’s going to be napping, to exchange a few kisses that aren’t simply quick, chaste pecks.
Back under the shade of the umbrella now, Rachel crouches to dig through her bag, removing items as she goes. Since she had just been planning to head back home, she’s without a change of undergarments since her intention had just been to cover up the wet suit she’s wearing. And even though she still doesn’t have those, Rachel finds another two-piece suit – one that isn’t damp and sandy and salty – that’ll serve her purpose well enough and adds it to the pile of folded clothes, sandals, and a chamois. “Just let me run and go get changed into something dry. I promise to be quick.”
And Rachel is. She’s trotting back across the sand from the washrooms on the boardwalk within five minutes and makes fast work of packing up her own bag and the beach umbrella. With a snapback resting atop hair that’s already starting to curl in the sun and aviators resting along the bridge of her nose, slings her bag along her back and gathers her two boards – skate and surf – as well as the umbrella in her arms. “Follow the leader?”
QUINN
It takes just as long for Quinn to gather up their things and to convince Harlow to let her take her life vest off as it does for Rachel to walk to the boardwalk, change and come back. Harlow is swiftly approaching cranky, and that always makes everything a little slower because Quinn refuses to be the mom that yells at her four-year-old. But it's nothing she hasn't dealt with before, and by the time Rachel's back, she's got her beach bag on one shoulder and Harlow on the other, with her fish fin life vest dangling from a tiny hand.
"It's a little bit of a walk, I'm sorry." Parking was a mess earlier. But it doesn't take too long for her to locate the car, and when they're a little ways off, she presses the keyfob to unlock it. "It's the white X1 if you want to unload your stuff in the back."
Getting Harlow settled in her carseat doesn't take as much as she expected and, as expected, the little girl is out like a light in less than a minute, still clutching to her gift. Quinn pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes as she climbs behind the wheel and smiles over at Rachel. "I think she likes it."
RACHEL
Rachel has no idea what an X1 is. She’s sure her boys or her daddy would know, but she’s the type of car person to pick what’s prettiest. That’s actually how she ended up with her current vehicle. She presented Puck with a price range and what she needed it for – toting boards and gear and to get from here to there – and he came back with a list. He went with her to the dealerships and on the test drives, but ultimately Rachel picked the car that caught her eye from the very beginning. Still, she keeps her eyes peeled for white cars, though really it’s the back hatch opening that alerts her to the correct car.
Cautious not to bump or scratch the interior or exterior of the car, Rachel carefully loads her boards and the rest of her beach stuff into the back of the car before slipping into the passenger seat. She twists around before she buckles herself in to take in the sight of the zonked out toddler, little hands wrapped around the life jacket as if it was a stuff animal. “Be careful or she’ll want to wear it to bed.” Rachel knows from personal experience. She had a pair of wings she wore for a solid two months when she was five. From Halloween through Hanukkah there’s photographic evidence of the wings never leaving her back, not even when she was in the bath.
QUINN
She peers up into the rearview mirror, smiling at Harlow's reflection. "You haven't met Simba yet, but he's the only thing she wants when she goes to bed. But I'm sure she'll want it somewhere in her room she can see." The little girl always goes through little phases, but the stuffed lion her daddy gave her has always been there. "But she might want to wear it to Mother's Day Out tomorrow. I won't mind letting her wear it."
The drive back to her house passes uneventfully. Small talk, a few laughing recollections about their time out today, and eventually her hand finds its way into Rachel's. It's nice. And she squeezes gently as she parks in her driveway before letting go.
Rachel helps her carry everything in while she has her hands full with Harlow, but the little girl goes down in her own bed with little fuss. She makes a pit stop in her bedroom to change out of her damp bathing suit and into a comfortable, dry maxi dress before returning downstairs and to Rachel, who seems to be in another stare down with George. "I hope you remember each other."
RACHEL
While Quinn readies Harlow for her nap, Rachel makes her way through the Fabray home and into the spacious kitchen. She only has to open two cabinets before she finds what she’s looking for: a glass to grab some water. But as she’s doing so, Rachel can feel the eyes on her, stalking and tracking her every move. Glass in hand, she half expects to be pounced upon when she turns from the sink. And indeed George is right there sitting on the island across from her, but the only movement about him is his tail twitching and as his yellow eyes watch.
Leaning back against the counter as she sips from her glass, Rachel’s unsure how long their mutual stare down lasts before Quinn breaks the silence. “I think we do. I’m just not sure George approves of my presence.” At least with Wilson, Rachel always knows where she stands. He’s either his little lazy and loveable snugglebug self, or he mopes because she left him home alone all day. “Is he like this with everyone he doesn’t know? Or am I just receiving particularly special treatment?”
QUINN
She's smiling as she approaches her cat, running a hand down his back while he peers across the kitchen at Rachel. Eventually her presence is enough of a distraction, and he chirps at her before lowering his head -- because he's that much taller than she is when he's seated that high up -- to bump and rub against her chest. "You're special, obviously," she teases with a grin. "It's not every day we get 007 in the house. Maybe he can sense the espionage on you."
RACHEL
"Well as long as you think I'm special." Rachel's looking through her lashes as she grins around the rim of the glass. Taking one more final sip, she sets the glass into the sink before, "But I promise that all my intentions are good and just. No double agent business here."
Pushing off the counter, Rachel steps forward, closing the distance between herself and Quinn, though she keeps a watchful eye on the large cat. Quinn's just as soft now as she was in the sea, though it's the soft fabric of her dress rather than her skin Rachel feels underneath her palms as she wraps her arms around a slender waist. "Hey, Nightingale." Rachel's voice is soft, too, and her smile as well when she looks up into hazel eyes.
QUINN
Even if she's anticipating it, she feels herself get a little bashful and shy as soon as Rachel's close. They've spent all afternoon together without being able to really touch each other or kiss each other. When Harlow's around, she's Quinn's main focus, always. But she'd be lying if she said that she didn't want to spend quality time with Rachel, too. And now that she has it, she feels like she's a blushing sixteen-year-old standing almost too close to her crush. Perhaps she's still not gotten over the fact that she can like a girl, and that same girl -- that same oh so pretty girl -- likes her back.
Her hands find their way to Rachel's back, and she matches the brunette's smile with her own, head dipping low. "Hi." A beat. "I'm glad you came over." Another. "And what you did for Harlow today was really..." She takes a breath, voice softening. "Wonderful. Thank you."
RACHEL
God, this girl is just too cute, what with the way her cheeks tint and her head bows. Rachel’s own chest warms a bit while a smirk with a dash of smugness curls at the left corner of her lips because she knows she’s the reason Quinn has reacted as such in an almost bashful manner. Tipping her own head up just so, Rachel gently knocks her nose against Quinn’s and speaks softly even though it’s only just the two of them. “Yeah. Of course. Thanks for the invite.” Then, Rachel tips up just the slightest bit more and presses her lips to Quinn’s in a kiss that’s soft and sweet but that’s also lingering in the way it couldn’t be while at the beach.
“And about Harlow, anytime. I...” Rachel licks her lips, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as she tries to thoughtfully organize her words. She’s aware that her current knowledge of ASL is rudimentary at best, but there are so many other ways to communicate with someone. For instance, music works as a universal language for her during performances. Just because she’s not singing to a singular individual doesn’t mean that each person in the hall can’t feel, see, or hear the emotion in the performance. “She’s a special little girl, Quinn, and I just wanted to find a special way to connect with her. I think our mutual love for the water was a good starting point.”
QUINN
It shouldn't be this way. Perhaps it's an indicator that she's been out of the dating scene for way too long-- that she's far too easily swayed and influenced-- that maybe more than anything she wants someone's romantic attention so desperately that she's willing to let the first girl who comes along sweep her off her feet after just a few weeks. But romance is never logical. Feelings are never logical. And even if she's telling herself in the back of her mind that Rachel shouldn't so easily make her heart feel like it's growing too large for her chest, she can't stop herself from feeling that way. It just is. Every touch and every look and every sweet kiss and word just endears the petite daredevil to her more and more and more. And Quinn wants to throw caution to the wind.
So as Rachel speaks, digging her way inside by the second, Quinn's tight-lipped smile grows. The flush in her cheeks grows. The heavy lub-dub in her heart gets heavier. Words bubble up in the back of her throat, but she doesn't say anything right away, instead ducking down and reaching around and really pulling Rachel into an extremely intimate embrace to be standing in the middle of her kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. But she stays there, nestled against the brunette's neck while her fingers curl into the thin fabric of her shirt. After a little while of quiet, a small, "I really like you, Rachel."
RACHEL
Quinn speaking those words isn’t new, and neither is the way they affect Rachel when she hears them. Today, the words travel from where they’ve ticked up the corner of her lips and down into the cavity of her chest. They attach to her heart, burrowing in before they grow and spout into wings, ones that flap and beat to thud against the cage of her ribs before it soars. They’re happy words that have Rachel feeling wanted and needed, and ultimately more than a little possessive.
So far they’ve kept their interactions relatively casual over the past few weeks with only a couple of actual dates scheduled. More often than not their times together have been spent over cups of coffee and pastries on a bench outside the hospital during short breaks, or glasses of wine after the end of a long shift. But today feels a bit like a turning point, both the time spent at the beach with Harlow and now as Rachel holds Quinn to her just as tight as she’s being held.
“I don’t want to share this.” Rachel somehow manages to wrap her arms tighter as she presses her lips to Quinn’s temple. “Share you.” Share the feeling of warmth that spreads from a beating heart to the tips of fingers and toes. They haven’t talked about exclusivity, but Rachel hasn’t been seeing other people, or really even thinking of anyone besides Quinn since their second by chance meeting. “I really like you, too, Quinn. Only you.”
QUINN
'I don't want to share you.' It's a foregone conclusion. There's been no one else on her mind since they met again on the beach, and Rachel's been the first person on her mind since before she got pregnant. She hasn't thought about another person, at all. Rachel is the first woman, and the best. At least in Quinn's mind. Now. She doubts she could even think of someone else. Even if it's a silly sentiment -- of course she doesn't want to be shared -- it warms her so much. That Rachel feels that way.
Taking a deep breath, letting her lungs fill with the scent that's unmistakably Rachel, she feels... happy. So happy. In a way she's never felt before. Maybe it's finally finding someone she can be with, that she enjoys and craves. That she can spend adult time with but also watch with her daughter and see Harlow smile and actually hear her rarer-than-Rachel-probably-realizes laugh. She's smiling when she pulls back from their embrace just enough to find dark eyes with her own. "Does that mean I should cancel my date with Sam tomorrow night?" It's obviously teasing, and her hands drift from thin shoulders to an even smaller waist, fingers curling in the loose fabric of her tank top.
RACHEL
Rachel can’t help but laugh, her head ducking and dropping until her forehead is butting up against the defined bone of Quinn’s collar. She places a kiss against the left branch of the bone before she leans back, lips still pursed and with the addition of her left eyebrow arched.
“Probably. I think your girlfriend...” Rachel pauses for a beat after finally slapping a label on their relationship. She thinks it’s about time, and while labels can be limiting and place an individual inside a box, there’s also some inherent security in the weight they carry. Mutually agreed upon support. And Rachel knows she’s at least ready for that.
“She might take issue with being two-timed. Especially with her best friend. Unless of course you’ve opted for a career change and this is actually an audition for The Days of Our Lives. Then I think we should really start from the beginning again because I could definitely be more in character. And do a lot better with that kissing scene, too.”
QUINN
Her smile stretches so wide her cheeks hurt. It's one of those all-encompassing smiles that comes from something simple and joyful. Rachel calls herself her girlfriend, and it shouldn't be a big deal. It's small. Insignificant even in the grand scheme of things. But God it makes Quinn feel alight. Radiant, even. Like she could burst into song despite the fact that she has a voice that would never make it to an audience. Rachel Berry, daredevil and ASL beginner, is her girlfriend.
Her arms move, resting atop the brunette's shoulders while her fingers play with wavy hair. Her smile goes from blinding to playful, teasing as she leans in closer and closer, voice lowering as she goes, intent obvious. "I don't know. I think you're doing just fine on the kissing..."
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