These strange steps

36

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for .)

Chapter Text

A week later, she's dropping her cats off at Puck's and dropping herself off at the airport, with a suitcase that'll last her from the 24th until the 27th.

Christmas isn't her holiday. It's one that she's celebrated in part because her parents were conscious of not 'othering' her too much, compared to the majority of kids she went to school with, but it was never one of the big ones.

It feels pretty gigantic now, though, with Quinn having put up a small but decorated Christmas tree a few days back that Amelia Earhart-recently let out of the bathroom-has already demolished in its entirety at least once, but Quinn isn't giving up.

It's the first Christmas she'll actually be celebrating in years, and Rachel's a little anxious to have it go well, but her natural inclination is to go overboard with holiday glee and she's wise enough now to know that that won't be appreciated-and so instead, she's looked around on Yelp for recommendation of decent Chinese take-away around the Wicker Park area, and has rented a few movies from Netflix that really don't have a damn thing to do with the holiday, and they'll take it from there.

It feels like the start of some new traditions for both of them, where they might hang a sock or two from the mantel, but will just stuff it with sex toys or something else that nobody not them will ever need to hear about, and-

Yeah. She's a little anxious, but most of all, she's curious to see where she's going to be putting the toothbrush Quinn gave her on the thirteenth.

...

Quinn has a new car, and this time it's a modest Mazda of some kind; she shrugs a little when Rachel raises her eyebrows at it and says, "Less questions asked."

The car isn't actually that big a downgrade from the Beemer, and after a moment of glancing around the interior, Rachel looks at the lights of the city, and the various neighborhoods they're driving by, until they end up outside of a house that's clearly been split up somehow into a variety of apartments. Quinn carries her suitcase upstairs and walks it right over to what Rachel guesses is the main bedroom, and then comes back into the hallway and shrugs out of her coat and her fuzzy hat.

"Welcome to Chez Fabray," she then says, with a small curtsy that has Rachel smiling. "Want the tour?"

"Yes, please," Rachel says, and Quinn glides her around a variety of boxes that aren't quite unpacked yet, through a collection of rooms that look modern and like they're ready for Quinn's personality to be imprinted on them, but it's a long-term project, now. Quinn's not going anywhere anytime soon, and after noting that most of the walls need painting, Quinn just settles them on the couch and pours Rachel a vodka tonic.

Rachel looks at it for a moment and then takes it, and Quinn settles at the other end of the couch, kicks her feet up and says, "I pay attention, you know. I know what your drink of choice is."

Rachel smiles and puts her feet up over Quinn's, bisecting them. "I know you do."

"So you think-I mean, can you see the potential? The spaciousness of the lounge and the open kitchen really just spoke to me," Quinn says, glancing over her shoulder to the kitchen. "It's-you know. I can cook and you can do whatever and we'll still be in the same room. I think that's important."

Rachel takes a big sip of her drink, and then gives up on any pretense that this isn't going to be one of those nights where she craves physical contact just because tomorrow is a little uncertain, and slides into Quinn's side. "I agree."