Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

I

Rachel Berry looks at her phone for the time again, and frowns in irritation that it's only been a minute since she last checked. She doesn't exactly have that long of a lunch break before she has to be back at the theatre for rehearsals, and she's already nervous as it is without her lunch companion being late.

Quinn texted a few minutes ago, letting Rachel know she was running behind schedule, but she's definitely on her way, which strangely makes Rachel feel that bit more nervous.

She's been second-guessing herself ever since the absolutely-crazy idea popped into her head while she was lying in bed a few nights ago. It's probably the most absurd idea she's ever had - which is saying a lot, because she's Rachel Berry - but she sees no other way.

It's worth a try, she thinks.

What's the worst that could happen, right?

Rachel checks her phone again and sighs. It's been only another minute, and she's irritated by her own impatience. Quinn is normally very punctual, and she imagines the blonde is equally distressed by her own apparent tardiness.

Seven minutes.

They're only seven minutes behind schedule.

Rachel senses the moment Quinn arrives, which is such a cliché. The restaurant almost seems to grow still the second Quinn steps through the door, and all eyes turn towards her. Rachel almost laughs at the way Quinn barely notices the effect she has on the room, looking thoroughly unaffected in her graduate school getup of dark jeans, green blouse, black boots and grey peacoat.

She looks wind-swept and completely stunning, and Rachel hates her a little bit for it. Rachel watches as Quinn's eyes search the crowd for her, and she just barely resists the urge to raise her hand. It would be juvenile, she thinks, and she's trying not to be too extra these days.

Rachel's traitorous heart skips a beat when Quinn spots her, her face instantly lighting up in both relief and excitement, and Rachel feels the instant envy directed her way. This blonde bombshell is here for her, and she can practically feel the judgment from the other patrons.

Quinn makes her way through the restaurant towards her, and she finds herself sitting up straighter in her chair. She smiles back at Quinn, because she can't resist. Quinn's smiles are dazzling.

"Hey," Quinn says when she's near enough. "Sorry I'm late." She moves straight towards Rachel, bending to give her a quick, potentially-awkward side-hug and brief kiss to the top of her head, before she settles into her seat opposite the brunette.

"It's okay," Rachel says, because it suddenly is. "Hi."

Quinn's smile is easy, almost happy. "Have you ordered yet? I know you said you didn't have a lot of time."

Rachel shakes her head. "I was waiting, though I did peruse the menu. They have a rather nice salmon dish."

Quinn frowns at her, her fingers lifting the menu that's at her side. "You're vegan, Rachel."

"For you, Quinn," Rachel says, rolling her eyes slightly.

Quinn's frown only deepens.

"I know you like salmon," Rachel says, flushing slightly; "and I thought the dish sounded good for you."

"Oh." Quinn gives her a curious look. "Well, thank you," she says. "I'll definitely consider it."

Rachel drops her gaze, and takes a sip of her water. It doesn't have to be awkward, does it?

Well, not yet.

Once they've placed their order - Quinn choosing the salmon and Rachel getting the vegetable paella - Quinn gives her an expectant look, clearly waiting for her to approach the topic of this lunch… meeting.

Rachel folds her hands in her lap, and forces herself to breathe. Quinn could say yes to her proposition, or she could say no.

No harm, no foul.

"So," Rachel starts.

"You said you had something to discuss with me."

"I do." She sips at her water again. "It's a little… out there, so I'm going to need you to have an open mind about it. I imagine you'll have questions, and I ask that you hold them until I've stumbled through my request."

Quinn just nods, waiting patiently.

"As you know, I've just landed the role of a lifetime," she says, and she's never sounded less than enthusiastic about her accomplishment than in this moment. Her awarding of the role has been… tainted, as it were, and that's still something she's trying to wrap her head around. "It's my big break," she continues; "and I thought I got the role based on my talent alone, but I discovered recently that may not be entirely accurate."

Quinn's eyes harden, and Rachel wonders if her sometimes-best-friend has a spiel prepared about how her talent should be enough. Either way, Quinn doesn't say a word.

"It turns out," Rachel starts; "that my apparent sexuality may or may not have played a factor." She can't bring herself to look at Quinn's confused expression. "As you know, Santana accompanied me to the callbacks, and she was complaining about her recent conquest a little too loudly, and I believe the production team might have read into our conversation a little too much, and now they all think I'm actually a lesbian."

The sides of Quinn's mouth tick upwards, and Rachel knows she wants to laugh.

"It's not funny, Quinn," Rachel says, pouting. "The director feels comfortable enough including the sapphic kiss they were still considering writing into the show because he knows I wouldn't be against it. It's like a thing now, and my Understudy is such a bitch, and I'm under a lot of pressure and I've been struggling with what to do."

When the silence stretches on for a little too long, Quinn asks, "Why are you under pressure?"

"Megan, my Understudy, keeps yapping about how I make an unbelievable lesbian," she says with a huff. "She claims I'm only doing it because of the role, but I didn't even know being comfortable with a same-sex kiss was even part of the criteria of the role." She scowls. "Did I mention she's a bitch? Her range isn't nearly as extensive as mine. And she wonders why she didn't get the part."

Quinn still looks slightly amused. "She sounds like a piece of work."

"She is."

Quinn reaches for her own glass of water and takes a sip. "Rachel, not that I'm not sympathetic to your plight, but what does any of this have to do with me?"

Rachel presses her lips together. "Well, you see, I'm not a believable lesbian."

"Because you're not actually one."

"And, I reason that I kind of need to be."

Quinn's eyes widen in surprise. "What?"

"Well, I mean, just for a little while, you know," she says, explaining herself. "Just long enough to get Megan off my back, and solidify the impression that I am." She looks at Quinn's hands, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. "What if they take my role away, Quinn?"

Quinn leans forward. "They wouldn't do that, Rachel."

"But, how do you know?" she questions, sounding more unsure than she intends. "I'm just starting out. They could just as easily find someone else who hasn't led them to believe this one thing about them, purposefully or not, and there are far more talented people out there, and what if they find out that I unintentionally misled them and decide I'm not trustworthy or something like that?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" she counters immediately. "The world of Broadway is… different. I don't want to take any chances, and I don't want to be considered a fraud before I've even made a name for myself." She's aware she's borderline distraught now, because these are all her fears rising to the surface and she hasn't really spoken about them to anyone.

It's almost fitting Quinn would be the one on which she would unload.

Quinn reaches across the table and takes hold of one of her hands. "Rachel," she says, ever so calm; "just breathe. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"Is it?"

"Of course," Quinn says. "This isn't the end of the world, okay? It's just a lot of assumptions and misunderstandings. You don't have to pretend to be gay to have a successful career, the same way gay people shouldn't have to pretend to be straight."

Rachel sighs, thankful for Quinn's words, even if they aren't exactly making her feel better.

Quinn squeezes Rachel's fingers. "If it bothers you that much, you could just casually mention that you're actually bisexual, and nobody would be any wiser when you continue to date men."

Rachel nods at the sound of that. It makes sense. Why didn't she think of that?

"See?" Quinn says, taking her hand back and making Rachel miss the contact immediately. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not entirely sure about that," she admits with a slight grimace.

Quinn notices. "Oh, Rach, what did you do?"

"It wasn't my fault," she says, leading with her excuse. "I told you Megan is a bitch, and she was… goading me, I guess, and I kind of fell into her trap, and now I apparently have a girlfriend."

Quinn buries her face in her hands to stop herself from laughing at how helpless Rachel looks. "God, is Broadway like high school?"

"It's worse."

Quinn can't imagine that, but she doesn't say so. "Is that why I'm here?" she asks. "You want me to find you a pretend girlfriend? You could have just asked Santana for help with that, you know? She has a Little Black Book."

Rachel doesn't immediately respond, just nervously nibbles on her bottom lip.

Quinn picks up on her hesitance. "That's not why I'm here, is it?" She leans back. "Rachel, why am I here?"

Rachel audibly swallows. "Well, I was thinking, you know, that - " she stops, suddenly unsure. It made so much more sense in her head, but saying it out loud sounds silly. "What are your thoughts on - " she stops again. God, why is this so difficult? "Would you be willing to - I mean, could you perhaps - "

"Rachel," Quinn interrupts before the brunette hurts herself. "Are you trying to ask if I would be your pretend girlfriend?"

Their server chooses that exact moment to show up with their meal, and the two women use the opportunity to take a breath and reevaluate. Quinn isn't even sure she's hungry anymore, and Rachel lifts her fork but doesn't start eating.

The silence stretches on for two full minutes before Rachel breaks it.

"Yes."

Quinn sighs. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

Rachel opens her mouth, and then immediately closes it.

"Is it because I'm gay?"

To this day, Rachel is still fascinated by how comfortable Quinn is with her sexuality. Now, at least, because Rachel understands it's been a long journey to get her to this point in her life.

"Partly," Rachel admits. "I mean, I assume it'd be less uncomfortable for you than for a straight person," she says. "But, it's more than that. I know you, Quinn, and I know I can trust you with… all of this. The cast and crew kind of already know everyone else in my life, and, I mean, you're ridiculously stunning, and I want to shove it in Megan's prissy face that I can land someone as pretty as you."

It's a lot for Quinn to digest, and she's quiet for long moments as she finally tries her salmon. It is good. "Rachel," she finally says, deflating slightly. "You do know there are other ways, right?"

"I've given it a lot of thought," Rachel says. "I know there are other ways, but I don't feel… secure with any of the other options."

Quinn blinks. "And you would feel… secure with me?"

Rachel nods, no hesitation in sight. "I told you that I trust you, Quinn, and I know you would never use something like this against me."

Quinn focuses on her food for a while, and Rachel attempts to do the same. The silence is almost unbearable, because Quinn's face is unreadable, and Rachel just wishes she knew what the blonde was thinking.

"What - what would I have to do?" Quinn tentatively asks, which Rachel delights at, because it's not an immediate rejection.

"Not much," Rachel says, straightening slightly. "Just, show up at the theatre a few times, maybe have lunch with the cast. It doesn't have to be anything special, Quinn. Just enough to show you off and get Megan to eat her words, and then we can schedule a painless, mutual breakup, and nobody will ever have to know."

Quinn just watches her for a moment, and Rachel feels smaller than she has in a long time. "You have given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"I've imagined many ways to wipe that smug look off Megan's face, yes, and this is probably the least violent way."

Quinn risks a smile, but she still looks apprehensive. "Can I think about it?" she asks.

Rachel beams at her, because she's still not saying no. "Of course, Quinn."

"Can we meet for dinner on Wednesday?" she offers. "I'm sure I'll have an idea whether I'm willing to take on this acting challenge with you by then."

Rachel's smile barely falters. "Don't lie, Quinn," she says teasingly; "it wouldn't be acting at all, because we all know you're secretly in love with me."

Quinn stares at her for a beat too long, and then she laughs this low, throaty sound that makes heat rise up Rachel's neck. "Keep telling yourself that, Berry."

"Absolutely not!"

Quinn shifts the phone away from her ear for a moment, grimacing at the volume of the voice on the other end of the line.

"Are you insane? There is no way you can do this, Q! You're just going to set yourself up for disaster and heartbreak, and I am not dealing with that again."

Quinn merely rolls her eyes, and her red pen makes another correction on the paper she's marking. She's not exactly paying attention to the words she's reading, but she needs to be doing something to offset the growing headache from Santana Lopez's apparent dressing-down.

"Quinn," Santana says, sounding calmer. "You know I love you, right? I care about you, and I don't want to see you get hurt unnecessarily. You can't sit there and tell me this isn't going to end badly for you."

"She needs me, San."

"No," Santana immediately argues. "She's just convinced there are no other options, and she finds safety in you." Then: "Fuck. Don't let your hopeful heart latch onto the shit I just said. Berry is boy crazy. This'll all be over in a few weeks, and then you're going to have to deal with what it feels like to have her but not have her, and it fucking hurts, Q. Trust me, it hurts in ways you can't even imagine."

Quinn sighs, instantly deflating. "I just want to help."

"I know, babe," Santana says softly. "We both know that, but I won't let you hurt yourself just to make her happy, okay? You've been doing that for far too long."

"I've moved on, you know," Quinn points out.

"I know you believe that, but you haven't been in a relationship since Julia."

Quinn grits her teeth. "And we both know why that is."

"She's a gigantic bitch, yes, we know," Santana says. "I swear, if I ever see her again, I'm going to punch her face."

"I think you'll have to get in line."

"Who's ahead of me?"

"Rachel."

Santana cackles, and Quinn finds herself smiling. "Berry's dainty little hands won't even leave a mark."

Quinn takes a deep breath, bringing them back to the topic at hand. "What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Tell her you can't do it," Santana says. "You're busy with school. Or, there's a girl you have your eye on, and you don't want to do anything to jeopardise that."

It sounds believable, even to Quinn's ears. "Do you think she'll believe it?"

"She respects you too much to think you're lying," Santana points out. "And, plus, don't think I didn't notice how your eyes lingered on my friend, Alessia."

Even sitting in her office on the phone, Quinn can't stop herself from blushing. "She's pretty," she says.

"Do you want her number?"

Quinn sighs. "Not today, San," she says. "Let me deal with Rachel, and then I'll… see how I feel."

"You have far too many feelings, Q."

"I know," Quinn says sadly. "It's one of my many, many problems."

"Let it be known that you're the one who said it."

Quinn chuckles softly, setting down her pen and leaning back in her chair. "What options does she have if I don't agree to it?"

"That's not your problem."

"I don't think I'll be able to handle watching her pretend to date some other girl, Santana," she points out.

"Chances are, you won't even see it, Q," she says. "How often do you even see Berry, anyway?"

Quinn sighs. "Not often enough," she grumbles, mostly to herself.

Santana still hears her. "And, that's exactly why this would be a terrible idea."

This time around, it's Rachel who arrives late for their Wednesday dinner. She's predictably nervous, because she doesn't really have a Plan B if Quinn doesn't agree to her crazy request. She suspects she'll have to ask Santana for some help, or just accept defeat and let Megan win.

Quinn is already in a booth at the little diner, a favourite spot of the blonde's, now that she's embraced New York City and all its wonders.

Its saving grace is that it serves vegan pancakes, and Quinn has always been a fan of breakfast for dinner. She's already ordered for them both by the time Rachel slides in opposite her.

"Sorry I'm late," Rachel says, huffing out a breath and scowling with irritation at her cast mates' tendency to run over time during rehearsals.

Quinn just arches an eyebrow. "Hello to you too, Rachel," she says, which has Rachel scrambling back out of the booth to give Quinn a hug.

"Sorry," she says, breathless as her arms tighten around Quinn's form. "That was rude of me," she mumbles as she releases the blonde and returns to her seat. "I'm just terrible tonight, apparently. I've been a bit of a nervous wreck since our last conversation, and then I almost hyperventilated when you texted to confirm our plans for tonight."

Quinn traps her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling like the worst friend imaginable.

Because that's what they are.

All they are.

They're friends, and Quinn has accepted that.

The same way she accepted that her sophomore year crush on very straight Lacey Pennridge, her Teacher's Assistant for Intro to Screenwriting, would never go anywhere… and didn't.

Santana's voice rings in her head, and Quinn knows what she has to do.

Which isn't exactly what she wants to do.

Quinn Fabray always has been a bit of a masochist.

Rachel lets out a slow breath, trying to calm herself. There's an iced drink sitting in front of Quinn, and she smiles up at their server when the girl brings Rachel a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice that Quinn also ordered for her.

Her favourite.

"How was your day, otherwise?" Quinn asks, trying to distract Rachel.

Rachel smiles warmly. "I had breakfast with Kurt," she says. "He's so busy these days; I have to take any opportunity I can get to see him."

"Did you tell him about this illustrious plan of yours?"

Rachel bites her bottom lip, and then shakes her head. "Not yet," she says. "I wanted to hear what you had to say first."

Quinn nods her head, still noncommittal.

She's still debating with herself.

"How was your day?" Rachel asks, turning the question around.

Quinn's shoulders relax slightly, her posture still impeccable. "I had a meeting with my supervisor this morning," she starts; "and we had a long, hard discussion about the reality of getting my thesis published."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Quinn!" she squeals, almost leaping out of her seat to bury Quinn in another hug. "That's amazing!"

Quinn blushes. "Nothing's written in stone yet," she preemptively says, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "It still needs a lot of work, and we actually have to find someone interested in publishing it."

"It's still exciting," Rachel presses, beaming at her. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," Quinn says, her cheeks still red as she considers her next words. "It's going to be… a lot of work. I'm going to be really busy trying to get it perfect."

And, dear, smart Rachel realises what she's trying to say immediately. "Oh."

Their server chooses that moment to bring Rachel her vegan, blueberry pancakes, and Quinn's full house breakfast, that garners different reactions from the women.

Quinn's smiles widely, and Rachel crinkles her nose in mild disgust.

"If that plate wasn't an insult to everything I stand for as a vegan, I would be sympathising with your poor arteries," Rachel says.

Quinn ignores her, says a quick prayer and immediately digs into her eggs and bacon and "Oh my God, this French toast is so good, Rachel."

Despite her horror at the sight, Rachel finds herself smiling because Quinn is just too adorable sometimes.

Okay, a lot of times.

Rachel pours some maple syrup over her pancakes, and cuts off a piece just as Quinn cuts up her French toast.

It's always fascinated her watching Quinn eat. Breakfast is the only thing the blonde truly seems to enjoy, and Rachel knows Quinn has had issues with food in the past. So, to see her actually enjoy her food is amazing.

So is the way Quinn seems to cut up her food into various bite sizes, and then builds the perfect mouthful on her fork before indulging. Rachel noticed it only when they were already in college, with Quinn visiting her, Santana and Kurt in New York a few weekends a semester, and it's been something she finds so terribly endearing.

Quinn even counts them, trying to keep the number even, so she doesn't end up with unmatched leftovers.

It's stinking cute, and a little strange, but it's one of Quinn's quirks, and she loves it.

"I'm going to have to go for an extra long run tomorrow morning," Quinn says between mouthfuls. Even though her meal is greasy and… messy, Quinn looks so perfectly put together, carefully dabbing at the sides of her mouth with her paper napkin.

And, Rachel thinks, there it is, the second those words leave Quinn's mouth.

Overcompensation for indulgence.

Rachel smiles, though it's a little sad, and Quinn reads it wrong.

"I'm sorry," Quinn suddenly says. "I don't know if you were counting on me or not, but school is crazy, and - " she halts, dropping her gaze.

"And what?" Rachel presses, frowning at Quinn's uncharacteristically unfinished sentence.

"I just - I just can't, Rach," she says, deflating. She doesn't want to bring the potential of someone else into this flimsy excuse. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel immediately says, because it looks as if Quinn is actually devastated not to be able to help. "Really, Quinn, it's fine. It was a long shot anyway. A completely crazy idea." She shakes her head, sighing. "I'll probably have to take Santana up on her Little Black Book."

Quinn shifts uncomfortably, thoroughly hating that idea.

"I guess I could pay someone, right?" Rachel muses. "And have them sign some kind of confidential agreement or something. I don't want something like this coming back to bite me in the ass years from now. I can just see it now, you know? Five days before my Memoir is scheduled to release, Perez Hilton will publish an article about how I tried to fake it to get career favours." She buries her face in her hands at the thought.

Quinn shakes her head. "God, you're literally the most dramatic person I've ever met."

"And you're the prettiest," Rachel immediately throws back, making them both smile softly at the memory of their disaster of a Junior Prom.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says again.

"It's okay," Rachel reassures her. "I'll figure something out."

"I really do wish I could help," Quinn says, and she means it. But Santana is right. Just sitting here with Rachel is difficult enough, discussing potential pretend girlfriends. She forces herself not to imagine what it would feel like actually to be the one who -

No.

Quinn stops thinking about that immediately.

She's accepted this.

She's over Rachel.

If she says it enough times, Quinn's sure she'll start to believe it.

Rachel has to admit that there's a large part of her that was convinced Quinn really would say yes to her crazy proposition. It seems just like the thing Quinn would jump at, testing out her acting skills and possibly getting to torture Rachel in the process.

They're definitely in a better place these days.

While she and Quinn graduated from high school no longer wanting to kill each other, college wasn't exactly smooth sailing for their friendship. Quinn has always been guarded, and Rachel went through a handful of changes her freshman year of college that made her unrecognisable even to herself.

The two of them didn't make use of the Metro North Passes for anything other than a nude scene intervention and a pregnancy emergency until well after the New Year, and Quinn initially came to have a very heated conversation with Santana about something or the other.

Rachel learned later that Quinn was telling Santana to get her act together if she wanted to be with Brittany. (Rachel found out only later that the two of them also discussed a certain night spent together after a certain non-wedding, and she's still unsure how she feels about it, to this day. Quinn assured her it was merely experimentation at the time, settling some of her curiosity, and it meant nothing. They're only friends, and that's all they'll ever be. Rachel feels relief whenever that's reconfirmed, and that confuses her.)

And, then, Quinn started coming more often, to spend time with all three of them. It's Kurt's friendship with Quinn that still surprises them all, but the two of them share an odd bond - perhaps based on fashion, who knows? - and Rachel tries not to feel too jealous about it.

It wasn't until Quinn was well into being a Sophomore that she started to wonder that maybe her experimentation with girls wasn't just that anymore, and she went through a year-long journey of acceptance that Rachel finds truly beautiful to this day.

Then, there was Julia.

Quinn's roommate turned girlfriend and potential love of her life.

Rachel hated her from the moment they met, both of them standing over Quinn's hospital bed as the blonde recovered from delayed complications from the car accident and subsequent surgeries.

As much as Rachel tried to hide her dislike of Quinn's significant other, Quinn picked up on it easily enough, which resulted in quite a few heated arguments. Rachel just knew something was off about the girl and, as much as she enjoys being proven right, she hates that it came at the expense of Quinn's beautiful and fragile heart.

Rachel still remembers the call she received from Quinn, her voice broken as she tried to explain what she didn't even understand.

Julia Fairchild better stay wherever she is, and never show her face again.

And, then, Quinn graduated top of her class, moved to New York to work towards her MFA at Columbia, and they've been working on their friendship ever since. It's been more than a year now, and they're still going strong.

As Rachel considers it, lying in bed well after she said goodbye to Quinn with a hug and a kiss to her cheek on the sidewalk in front of the diner, she feels unsettled.

Like, she's done something very wrong.

Sighing heavily, she reaches for her phone on her nightstand and pulls up Quinn's contact. It's late, she knows, but she has a feeling the blonde isn't yet asleep. It's the only reason she feels comfortable enough to call.

And then immediately regrets it when, five dial tones later, a sleepy Quinn Fabray says, "Rach?"

Rachel closes her eyes. "You're sleeping."

There's a bit of rustling, and Rachel can just imagine Quinn attempting to prop herself up against her pillows. "Nope," she says, and then immediately yawns, which is just the cutest sound in the entire world. "I'm totally awake," she says. "What's up?"

Rachel sighs. "I wanted to apologise."

Quinn waits a beat, her breathing even. "Uh, not that I don't appreciate a Rachel Berry apology, but why exactly am I getting one?"

"I - I feel as if my proposition was… insensitive," she says. "Inappropriate. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Quinn. It was never my intention, but I don't think I considered your feelings on the subject enough before I brought it up to you." She sighs. "I would never dream of… exploiting your sexuality that way, and I feel as if - "

"Rachel," Quinn gently interrupts. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she argues, tears pooling in her eyes. "I mean, I don't even know if I would have made the same request if you were straight."

"I probably would have reacted differently if I were," Quinn admits, and it's the first acknowledgment of the Quinn Fabray of old. Regardless of her acceptance of her own sexuality, she's still deeply religious, and she's faced a lot of vitriol for it. "Look, Rachel," she says; "I'm not insulted or anything, okay? You asked a favour of a friend who would be slightly more comfortable of said favour, and that's it. There's nothing to worry over. I'm fine. We're fine."

Rachel sniffles.

Quinn sighs. "Please don't cry," she says. "Rachel, we're okay. I promise we're okay."

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course not," she says. "I've never hated you, and I never will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Rachel releases a steadying breath, daring to believe her. "Will you still let me make it up to you?" she asks, so softly that Quinn barely hears her.

"There's nothing to make up for," Quinn tells her, and then adds, "What did you have in mind?"

"Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?" she immediately offers. "My treat. And I won't even make a comment about the poor, defenceless animals you insist on consuming."

Quinn rolls her eyes hard enough to be heard through the phone. "I repeat that it's not necessary, but fine," she says. "I'm free from twelve until two."

"There's a new restaurant that popped up near the theatre. Alec said it has some of the best Pho he's ever had, and I know how much you like that particular Vietnamese delicacy."

"Uh, who's Alec?"

"One of my co-stars."

"Right."

"The one who uses far too much aftershave, Quinn."

"Oh," Quinn says, remembering him from Rachel's stories. "Should I meet you at the restaurant at, say, twelve thirty?"

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'll text you the address."

"Cool."

Rachel waits a moment. "I'm sorry, again, Quinn," she says. "For that thing, and for waking you up."

"I was awake."

"You're a terrible liar."

Quinn chuckles. "Goodnight, Rach."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

"See you tomorrow."

And, really, Rachel hasn't heard words sound so good in her life.

"I didn't expect it to be such a little hole in the wall," Quinn comments as she opens the door to the restaurant, silently inviting Rachel to go ahead of her.

It's something Rachel hasn't noticed until this moment, but Quinn does it all the time.

"Though, it's these kinds of places that serve the best food," Quinn muses as they get shown to a tiny table in the corner.

Rachel just hums in response, half-listening to Quinn as they get settled with their menus. Of course, she doesn't understand half the things on it, but that's why she has Quinn.

Quinn orders for them both, the Beef Noodle Pho for herself and the vegan equivalent for Rachel, and then they settle into a conversation that has nothing to do with propositions and sexuality.

"It's not even a debate," Quinn says. "Harry and Hermione were supposed to end up together."

Rachel just laughs as she sips at her water. "And I'm not disputing that, Quinn. I just think that we can't completely disregard J.K. Rowling's canon universe."

"I'm not," Quinn defends. "It just irks me that she missed out on so much potential. It was right there. She wrote it, but she stuck to her guns because she decided, when her characters were still pubescent, that Hermione was not meant to be Harry's love interest."

"Quinn."

"I will go down with this ship," the blonde sings softly, and Rachel's heart warms. Quinn doesn't sing too often these days, so, when she does, Rachel enjoys every second of it. "I do respect canon," Quinn adds a moment later; "but I've been doomed to love an OTP that isn't real."

"And you claim I'm the dramatic one."

Quinn pauses, her devilish eyebrow arching. "Make no mistake, Berry," she says, entirely too seriously; "my ire at the infamous 'Epilogue' proves nothing of the sort."

Rachel rolls her eyes, thoroughly enjoying this side of Quinn. It doesn't come out very often, because Quinn is generally very controlled, guarded in some of the most infuriating ways. But, when she gets animated like this, Rachel wants nothing more than to be her sole focus.

Which she eventually has to split with their food when it arrives.

Quinn makes the most adorable, happy food sounds as she eats, and Rachel can barely concentrate on anything else. She's barely even tasting her own food. It seems so unimportant in this moment.

"So, Santana and I are going to do some spring cleaning this weekend," Rachel says, even though they're nowhere near Spring. They're actually moving into Winter.

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Does Santana know about this?"

"Not yet."

Quinn laughs. "God, please put me on the phone when you tell her."

"You could be there, you know," she says.

"Oh, no," Quinn immediately says. "I know what you're doing, Berry, and it's not going to work."

Rachel pouts. "But… Quinn…"

"No," Quinn says firmly, even if she is wavering. She's powerless to the pout, and Rachel knows it. It's actually pathetic. "Rachel, don't you dare. You stop that, right now."

"Yes, Rachel, you should definitely stop that."

Quinn blinks up at the person who's spoken, and Rachel immediately tenses, silently cursing her rotten luck. She knew this day was too good to be true, and now she has to deal with Megan Porter in front of Quinn.

Quinn, for her part, immediately knows who's standing over their table, practically towering over them, to show some form of dominance. Quinn almost laughs because, yeah, Broadway is kind of like high school. The woman even has her hands on her hips, in some kind of power pose.

"Megan," Rachel says curtly.

"Rachel," Megan returns, flicking her red hair out of her eyes in a way that almost makes Quinn roll her eyes. She doesn't, though, because that would just be adding fuel to an already-stoked fire. "I see Alec told you about this place, too."

"He did," Rachel says, wanting desperately to rise to her feet. Megan is already taller than her, but she would feel better if she were standing as well.

"And you decided to bring your… friend here, I see?"

Megan seems to take stock of Quinn for the first time, and the steady stare she receives in response is enough to unnerve her.

"Right," Rachel says. "Quinn, this is Megan, my Understudy." And, yes, so what if Rachel gets way too much satisfaction introducing her that way? "Megan, this is Quinn, my - "

Megan gasps dramatically, cutting off Rachel's introduction. "This cannot be the girlfriend, Rachel," Megan says, faking to the maximum. "Even you can't level up this high."

Quinn clenches her jaw, and Rachel seems to shrink into herself.

Megan smirks at Quinn. "Quinn, is it?" she says, holding out her hand. "That's a pretty name for such a pretty face. What on earth are you doing with this troll here?"

And, Quinn thinks it must be the sound of the derisive name that she once called Rachel herself, or it might be something else entirely, but there's a cosmic shift in the air the moment the words leave Megan's mouth.

Because, at the sound of them, Quinn's demeanour shifts, and Megan suddenly knows to be wary.

"Does that actually work for you?" Quinn asks, and she sounds so bored. "Because, honestly, if that's the best come-on you've got, it's no wonder you're merely my girlfriend's Understudy."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Also, I'd thank you not to flirt with me in front of her," she continues easily. "Not only is it rude and inappropriate, but it's entirely unwanted and misplaced. Believe me, you don't want anything to do with me. I would destroy you, and I would get entirely too much satisfaction watching you crumple and wilt into utter obscurity."

Megan just blinks at her, her mouth hanging open.

"Now, I'm trying to have a pleasant meal here, and your gibing is interfering with that," she says. "Kindly leave us alone." She offers such a sickly sweet smile that Megan's teeth could possibly rot from it, and then actually fall out.

Quinn pointedly looks away from the other woman, her eyes landing on Rachel's shocked face. If she weren't still in HBIC mode, she would probably laugh at her facial expression.

But, it's not the time, yet.

It takes Megan a full minute to get her body working again, and she stutters out some kind of excuse before she stumbles away, clearly not having expected Quinn to say anything like that.

Quinn watches Rachel carefully, her own heart slowing as Rachel's face regains its colour. "You okay?" she asks gently, ignoring her food for the moment. "Did I overstep? If I did, I'm not apologising. She's a piece of work, and I may or may not have gone overboard, but, honestly, she pushed the wrong buttons, and the Head Bitch came out to play."

Rachel still doesn't say anything.

"Did I break you?" Quinn asks, equal parts amused and concerned. "Rachel? Rachel Berry? Don't make me pinch you, because I will. Rachel? I'll… tickle you right here in this restaurant. I'll do it. I don't care. I'm not the one who's going to be famous on these streets. What if - "

"You called me your girlfriend," Rachel blurts out.

Quinn pauses. "Oh," she sounds. "I suppose I did."

Rachel continues to stare at her. "I thought you said…" she trails off.

Quinn shrugs. "I wasn't just going to sit here and let her talk about you like that," she says. "We're supposed to have grown out of all of that, and I hate that you still have to deal with it. If I have to move some things around and - " she halts. "Look, I just don't want her talking about or to you like that, and I will happily put her in her place, should the occasion require it."

Rachel audibly swallows. "She's going to tell everyone she met you," Rachel points out.

"Let her."

"This changes things."

"So it does."

Rachel breathes out slowly. "So, you're in?"

Santana is going to kill her. "I suppose I am."