The next morning, Rachel's at the garage about ten minutes earlier than usual, because she wants to make sure Quinn has enough time to drink her coffee. Not that the morning shift at the shop ever appears to be fast-paced, but she knows Quinn was up late the night before and Rachel's still worried about those lube wrenches. Or whatever they use to change oil.
The garage is open and Quinn's car is parked where it usually is, but the blonde isn't outside. Rachel knows Quinn's been putting in some extra hours this week, staying a little later. So, it's possible she's been starting early, too. As she balances the coffee carrier in one hand, she opens her car door and prepares to call out for her girlfriend, into the open space of the garage, the way she has several times in the last few days. But after Rachel's door slams shut, Quinn walks out of the garage, wiping at her hands with a rag.
"Thought that might be you," Quinn says.
"You're already working?" Rachel asks. She passes a cup of coffee into Quinn's waiting hand, but she doesn't let go until Quinn kisses her.
"Yeah, I wanted to get a head start on something. Which, um," Quinn takes a sip of her coffee. "I hope you didn't have anything too big planned for lunch today, because I have to drive over to Findlay on my break and pick up some parts."
Rachel doesn't have anything too extravagant lined up, but she can't seem to hide the disappointment that Quinn won't be able to spend time with her. "I... no, it's just Tofurky sandwiches and kale chips."
"Hey," Quinn reaches out for Rachel, but stops herself, because she already has grease on her hands before nine in the morning. "I was thinking," the hand drops back to her side. "If you wanted, we could meet up here around five-thirty? I can take you to dinner? I don't really have anything too formal with me to change into, but I promise I'll make sure we go somewhere with an open dining room, this time."
"If I wanted?" The disappointed feeling is quickly replaced with one of adoration for her girlfriend. "Yes," Rachel reaches forward and hooks her fingers in the pocket of Quinn's coveralls. "You can take me to dinner." This time, when she kisses Quinn, she tastes like coffee, just like she did yesterday and the day before. She wonders if coffee is going to start having some Pavlovian effect on her where she won't be able to drink it without thinking about kissing Quinn.
Though, lately, she isn't able to do much at all without thinking about kissing Quinn.
Rachel's at the garage at five-thirty, despite her desire to be early. She wants to give Quinn ample time to finish work and clean up for their date. Quinn's car is the only one parked next to the shop, so it appears that everyone else has headed home for the day.
As Rachel checks her reflection in the vanity mirror, she smiles to herself. This is their second date. But only because they aren't counting all their lunches together. Or should those count? And, if that's the case, do the morning coffee meetings count as speed dates?
There's a knock on the window and she turns to see Quinn standing outside the car. Her coveralls are gone and she's wearing a faded green t-shirt with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it and a pair of jeans that hug her hips in such a way that Rachel catches herself staring before she shakes herself out of the moment and lowers the window.
Quinn leans down on her elbows and smiles at Rachel. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself." Again, Rachel's eyes begin drift. "I don't think I've ever seen you in jeans outside of glee club numbers."
"I don't usually wear them. But, around here, I can't really wear super cute dresses."
"They look... really good on you."
Quinn's eyes narrow in curiosity. "The super cute dresses or the jean?."
"Both," is Rachel's immediate answer. "But I... was talking about those." She nods toward Quinn's pants and Quinn laughs. Her eyes linger on Rachel's face, then she reaches into the car and slips her hand behind Rachel's neck. It's kind of like that first day, that first kiss. Except it's completely different. This time, it's familiar, she knows what to expect, she knows what it means.
"I want to show you something," Quinn says, as she pulls back. Before Rachel can begin to wonder what it is, Quinn's already opening the door and taking her by the hand.
"I know it's been a few days since I've had an automotive lesson, but this can't wait until after we eat?"
"No, it can't." Quinn leads Rachel through the shop, to the back corner. "This is why I had to miss lunch, today."
"I thought you missed lunch to pick up pa- Oh, wow." Rachel doesn't know much about cars, other than she knows how to drive one and now, thanks to Quinn, she knows what the inside of one looks like. But she also has seen enough movies to know what a classic car looks like.
"It's a 1969 Mustang," Quinn informs her. The car is shiny black with a thin red stripe down the side. It looks to be in perfect condition. Even the interior appears almost like new.
"Is this... are you working on this for someone?"
"Well," Quinn tugs Rachel closer to the car. "Burt has a friend that does restorations for movies and apparently this car was in something they shot in Chicago last year."
"A movie star car?"
"Do you know what movie?"
"Not a clue."
"It doesn't look like it would need any work."
"Right?" Quinn chuckles. She releases Rachel's hand so she can raise the hood.
Rachell peers inside. "I'm new at this, but shouldn't there be an engine and a battery and whatever else in there?"
"Yep. I guess they just needed it to look good for the movie, not actually run." Carefully, Quinn lowers the hood and inspects her hands for and grease before reaching for Rachel's again. "Burt and I are rebuilding it. That's why I've been here so much, this week."
"I'm sure it's a very valuable experience in your line of work." Rachel appreciates that Quinn wants to share this part of her job with her.
"It was delivered over here last week, but the guy who wanted to buy it didn't want to put in the time to do the rebuild, so he passed on it."
"That's unfortunate." Rachel runs her fingers over the glossy paint. "It really is a beautiful car."
"I know." Quinn bites her bottom lip before she says, "That's why I bought it."
Rachel looks from the car to Quinn. "This is yours?"
Quinn nods. She's practically bouncing. "Yeah. I got a really good deal on it and Burt's letting me get the parts at cost. And, of course, I'm putting in the labor myself, so..."
Suddenly, Rachel has a lot more interest in the vehicle. "Can we sit in it?"
"Absolutely." Quinn opens the passenger door for Rachel, though, when Rachel immediately bypasses the front seat to climb into the back, the blonde tilts her head. "Straight for the backseat, huh?"
Rachel just tugs on Quinn's hand and she's quick to follow. "My girlfriend just told me she bought an incredibly sexy car that she's putting together herself. I think this is exactly where we should be."
"I thought you were in a hurry to get to dinner."
"Not anymore." Rachel strokes her thumb across Quinn's cheek. "You are so incredible," she says, almost absently.
Quinn catches Rachel's hand and presses a kiss to her palm. "All I did was buy a car."
"So you can put it back together." Rachel can tell Quinn's about to shrug, so she drops her hands onto Quinn's shoulders. "No, you don't get to act like it's not a big deal. Quinn, you're so... you're unstoppable when you want something. And that's..."
"It's part of what makes me so happy to be with you."
Quinn blinks and looks down. "Rachel..."
Rachel tips Quinn's chin back up and there's that pull, again, the one that's so natural, so real. She still can't quite fully put into words what it is she feels when Quinn kisses her, but it's an electric connection, physical, with currents of emotion. Frantic isn't the word for what's happening, right now, but it's close to it. Impassioned, maybe. Though, that feels a little heavy for five days of courtship.
Not that words matter, at this moment. Quinn's hands are in her hair, her own are gripping at Quinn's arms. One hand slips down from Rachel's hair to her shoulder and Rachel realizes she wants something more, but she doesn't want to pull her mouth from Quinn's to say so. Actions speak louder, especially at times like right now, anyway. She puts her hand over the one on her shoulder and pulls it down toward her breast.
There's a pause in the kissing as Quinn glances down, then back up at her. "You..." It's a one word functioning as question that Quinn doesn't even need to ask, but the fact that she does makes Rachel need this even more.
"Uh huh," Rachel nods and arches her back, just a little, just enough to move slightly against the palm of Quinn's hand.
"Okay," Quinn breathes. Her movements are tentative, at first, gently cupping Rachel through her dress. But when Rachel nips at Quinn's bottom lip, her touch becomes a little more aggressive, lightly kneading though the fabric. It's making her dizzy.
Another kiss, then Rachel's fingers are tracing Quinn's collar bone through her t-shirt. "Can I...?" She can feel Quinn's smile against her lips.
Rachel's hand drops until she's mirroring what Quinn's doing to her, touching, caressing, reveling in the feeling of Quinn under her hand. The more she explores with her fingertips, tracing the shape of Quinn's bra under the thin cotton of her t-shirt, the more evident it is that Quinn's getting aroused by what's happening. Rachel is, too, because every time Quinn's thumb grazes over her nipple, Rachel has no control over the sound that emanates from the back of her throat.
It's almost impossible, but Rachel manages to tip her head away from Quinn's long enough to say, "We... if we're going to go to dinner... we should, um..."
Quinn nods, but it's a lazy, distracted kind of nod. "Dinner." She draws in a long, slow breath and begrudgingly lets her hand fall away. "Right. We have a date."
Rachel's hand moves back upward, pushing Quinn's hair behind her ear. "I think we're already on it." It's meant to be a cue, something to suggest they continue on to the next segment of the evening, but Rachel can't seem to follow her own suggestion, because she's leaning back and pulling Quinn with her, until she's pressed into the corner of the back seat. Her mouth seeks out Quinn's, again.
"I mean, if you're not necessarily... in a hurry..." Quinn has one hand braced on the window behind Rachel's head. "... we could spend a little more time... with this."
"A little more..." Rachel echoes, between kisses. Her hand has settled on Quinn's hip, though, with the way they're positioned, her fingers keep slipping under the bottom hem of the t-shirt. Her head tips to the side as Quinn's kisses drift toward Rachel's neck. "Oh... okay..." This is new territory, at least as far as the progression of what's happened since they ended up in this backseat. She isn't sure if she even cares about dinner, at this point.
Quinn's mouth is now pressed against her collar bone and Rachel's fingers are lightly scratching at Quinn's scalp. Both of them seem to be communicating with light, breathy sounds of contentment.
Until Quinn's knee slips off the seat and slams against the floor of the Mustang. "OW!" She mumbles, right into Rachel's chest.
"Oh my god, Quinn. Are you okay?"
There's a nod and then a sheepish look from her girlfriend as Quinn shifts her eyes back up to Rachel's face. "Yeah, that just..." She groans and turns her head, resting it back down.
"Maybe it's a sign that we're supposed to go to dinner."
"Maybe it's a sign that bucket seats aren't ideal for making out."
Rachel laughs, softly, stroking Quinn's hair. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Pretty sure all I've bruised is my pride," Quinn mumbles.
"You'll heal." Rachel pats her on the head.
"I suppose." Quinn sits up and straightens out her shirt. "Dinner?"
Rachel nods. "Yes, please." As Quinn climbs out of the car, Rachel's presented with a full view of her girlfriend's backside, the denim of the jeans embracing every perfect curve.
"What?" She blinks and realizes Quinn's waiting for her, hand extended to help her out of the car. "Oh. Sorry, I..." She doesn't finish, she just takes Quinn's hand and exits the backseat.
"You what?" Quinn asks, once Rachel has two feet on the cement floor.
"I think you should wear jeans more often."
Quinn's eyebrow elevates. "Were you just perving on me?"
"I'd much prefer the term admiring, thank you."
"I think this car turns you into a sex maniac."
"I... don't think it's the car." Rachel glances back at the Mustang. "Well, okay, the car doesn't hurt."
No, the car is definitely a turn-on. Rachel just never knew she had it in her, until now.