In Quinn's left hand is her notebook clutched tightly, as if she was afraid to lose it. In her right was Rachel's hand, her grip firm but loose enough for Rachel to be able to release her hold whenever she wished. When she would let go of Quinn, it was only to tuck a lock of her blonde hair back, or to play with her slender fingers.

It was poetry night, and Quinn was nervous. Not of the stage—she'd been on it far too many times to count. She was over her stage fright years and years ago. Not of the crowds—half of them were her friends and acquaintances. Brittany and Santana were probably making out in one of the many dark corners of the bar. Quinn was nervous because she wrote a poem for a girl, and she was as real as the pounding of her heart against her ribcage. That girl was Rachel, and Quinn was performing a poem for her tonight.

"You ready?" Taylor approached her with a tankard filled with the local brew. "They're done setting up out back."

"Ready for what?" Rachel asked, eyes bright and staring at Quinn. She kept it a secret from Rachel that this was their date night—the night that would hopefully kick off their relationship into the stars.

Quinn shook her head and kissed her nose. "You'll see. Brittany and Santana are around somewhere. Just relax, Rachel." She grinned and smoothed out her blazer before following Taylor, casting a wink towards Rachel as she disappeared in the crowd.

"That her? The woman you mentioned?" Taylor asked as they entered backstage. Quinn greeted a few of her friends and nodded to Taylor. "

"I thought about your offer." Quinn said as she rolled her shoulders, tension dissipating in her body with each passing second. "And I want the position, if you haven't given it out already."

Taylor chuckled. "I knew you'd say yes somehow, Quinn. Of course it's all yours."

"Oh, good." Quinn grinned. "I quit my day job for this even though I can probably do both, you know? But I have money saved up, and not all of my clients are asking for refunds. None of them are suing me either, so that's a relief." She peeked through the curtains and caught a sight of Rachel who was chatting with Brittany. The announcer stepped center stage and began to entertain the patrons of the bar.

"Everyone missed you, Quinn." Taylor said, hand clapping against her back. "You'll be great."

Quinn smiled. "I hope so. But more than that, I hope I'll be great for Rachel."

The host declared her name and Quinn stepped through the curtains, the black fabric flourishing around her. She smiled through the bright lights and the familiar faces of the crowd. Catching Rachel's eyes, Quinn winked and gripped the microphone stand. "Hello, everyone. To those who are not familiar with this scene, I've been MIA for the past year or so." Quinn chuckled.

"You could say I've been busy. I haven't been writing." The crowd booed playfully and Quinn laughed. "I know, I know. But you see, the first time I wrote a poem about a girl whose eyes are comparable to New York City's lights was last night when the moon hung low," Quinn held up her hand, cupping it as if she was grasping the moon in her palm. "Like false hope amidst these dying, fading stars burning bright and blinding me. I haven't touched a pen to write a poem in months and I try to think that this would make me see; that maybe this isn't all there is to me."

The pub was silent now, eyes trained on Quinn. She relished it. She savoured their awed stares, but most of all, she was drawn to Rachel's eyes. "The last time I wrote a poem was two hundred and fifty seven days ago but it was crap. It was a poem about how my lungs are just lungs, and my stomach is just a stomach." She patted her abdomen. "It's unromantic and I burned the words in my mind until all is left is charcoal and the alphabet crumbling in my fingertips."

"But then, like most things, it all boils down to a girl." Quinn smiled and looked at Rachel, whose eyes were brighter than New York City's lights with the way she looked at her. Quinn gripped the microphone stand tighter until her knuckles turned pale. "A girl who reminds me of rich dark chocolate melting on my tongue. A girl who writes on my body with her mouth and her nails and god damn I've never wanted to be paper before but with her… With her it's like I am on my way to spitting out a novel worth of words on how she makes me feel." Quinn sucked in a breath and releases it. She pounded her fist against her chest. "She makes me think that maybe, my lungs are meant to do more than just breathe, that my heart… My heart is more than just a vessel for pumping blood."

Quinn paused for a brief second and allowed the silence to usher her poem into a rapid spitfire of words. "She has given me novels upon my body; paper cuts and bruises that could tell the world of how much it hurts to long for her, but I won't stop because it feels too damn good." Quinn held her arms out, beckoning the intensity of what she feels for Rachel into a flurry of her speech. "That if I stop, it would hurt more, and I don't want that. I don't want it to hurt. Even though it feels like the world is exploding when she's here, but it hurts more when she's gone, like implosions. And emptiness."

Her voice dipped in a low, barely audible murmur. "And I don't know what to do with myself."

"I used to think that I'm not one for love, and that's where I'm wrong." Quinn locked eyes with Rachel, and it was just the two of them right then. Quinn's lips curled into a smile, and she kept her voice low and even. "She didn't make me want to be better, but she inspired me to just be me."

"And you know what?" Quinn's voice rose, as if from the ashes of who she was in the past into who she knew she was now. "She knows and she's still here. She knows my words are hers, the same way I am in her possession, like a ten dollar bill in her winter coat. She knows that I would bend over and fall off a cliff for her. She knows that I'm in love with her, from this earth to the one a million billion trillion light years away from here." Quinn clenched her fists and held it to her chest. "She knows and she's still here with me."

She looked at the crowd, wide-eyed with tears and breathless wonder. Quinn grinned at them. "I can see it in your eyes that you want to know more about her, which is all well and good because I can talk about her all night." They cheer, like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. "Okay, okay. Let me put it like this." Quinn cleared her throat.

"From this point on, every poem I will ever write will be about her." Quinn released the microphone stand. "Thank you."

The crowd clapped, cheered, and stood up in their applause. Quinn dipped her head and stepped down the stage to make her way to the only one who truly mattered.

Rachel was sniffling and wiping her eyes by the time Quinn made it to her. "Was I good?" She asked, pulling her close to her body. "Did I make you cry? I didn't mean to, Rae."

She shook her head and held Quinn. "You were amazing, and I didn't expect that on our first date."

Quinn grinned and nuzzled her cheek. "Do you want to stay and watch the rest of the poets?"

Rachel bit her lip. "Will it be rude to say I just want you to myself? I just want to go back to your place, drink wine, and fall asleep in your arms."

Taking Rachel's hand, Quinn locked their fingers together and led her out of the pub. They went back to their apartment, shivering from the cold but warmth blossoming in their chest. There would be no need for central heating when Quinn and Rachel are together like this.

And as always, things didn't go according to plan. They stumbled in Quinn's home, drunk with laughter and giggling with delight. Quinn's hands were firm on Rachel's hips as she mouthed at her neck, greedy yet gentle, leaving markings of her teeth as they staggered into Quinn's bedroom. They collapsed on the neat bed, ready to mess it up.

Rachel straddled Quinn's lap and button by button, unclasped it to relish the smoothness of her lover's skin, the ridges of her collarbones, and her nipples stiff from arousal. She bent down, took one pink bead in her mouth, her core pressing deep against Quinn's growing erection. "God, Rae…"

She caught the other nipple and sucked on it, but Quinn was not content. She rolled Rachel onto her back, legs still wrapped around her waist. "Gorgeous love of mine," Quinn murmured, lifting Rachel's dress off. "I've missed you like this." She nipped Rachel's bottom lip as she hooked her fingers on the tiny fabric of her panties. Quinn slipped them off and spread Rachel's legs, eyes devouring her soaking pussy, impatient to get her tongue on her.

Rachel stripped Quinn off her remaining clothes and naked, they rolled around in bed, giggling and sighing as their heated skin kept each other warm. Rachel grasped Quinn's rigid cock and stroked it as they kissed, lips tugging on lips, and tongues teasing against the sharpness of teeth. Quinn grunted in Rachel's mouth, her fingers slipping against the plump lips of Rachel's soaking core.

"Quinn, please." Rachel's voice was needy, and her walls clenched around Quinn's deft fingers as they pressed against her insides. "We have all night for teasing. For now, I just want you." She gripped the back of Quinn's head, handfuls of blonde hair in her grasp. "Inside me. Deep, hard, and slow."

Quinn's throat bobbed and she used her arm as Rachel's pillow. They lay on their side, Rachel's leg over Quinn's hip. She dragged her cock against Rachel's folds, and as soon as their lips touched, Quinn pushed in, the head of her shaft slipping inside Rachel's drenched pussy. Both groaned, their arms tightening around each other. The bed sheets rustled, and Rachel panted against Quinn's cheek as she pushed in. "Like that, Rae?"

Nodding, Rachel dug her heel against Quinn's lower back. Together they writhed and moved, pushing and pulling at each other. Quinn's eyes never left Rachel's and she watched the flares that ignited in her with every deep thrust of her cock.

And when they come, it was with groans as deep as the earth itself. Pleasure wrecked their bodies, Quinn's hips stuttering in their rhythm as she unloaded in Rachel. Her pussy milked Quinn dry, their mixed fluids flooding out of her as Quinn continued to hump into her. She didn't want to move out past an inch, and Rachel could feel her filling her up. With love, all things were better.

They fell limp, breathless, and hyperaware of the way Quinn's lungs heaved, and the way Rachel panted. They smiled, noses brushing together. "I love you," Rachel whispered. "And you're definitely one for love."

today's proverb: This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. [...] And when it's just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be. David Levithan.

and also: I have hated the words and I have loved them. And I hope I have made them right. Markus Zusak.

I know I can be a bad writer and I'm not terrific with plot and pacing but I love words too much to stop writing. Thank you for overlooking my faults (sometimes), for being patient with me, and for reading this story of Rachel and Quinn in this different world. Thank you.