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She’s not sure what to think when he suggests it. On the one hand, having someone go down on you is having someone go down on you, and she would be an idiot not to go along with it. She hasn’t had sex since that spectacularly unsatisfying night with Puck and while she has no desire to have actual sex again anytime soon, getting head from Lady Lips has the potential to be utterly enjoyable. On the other hand, he wants her to wear a blindfold while he does it, which is somewhat unsettling. But then again, this is the boy who fluently speaks Na’avi and fantasizes about Coach Bieste, so she supposes there could be worse requirements. Ultimately, she decides to go with it, because he doesn’t ask for anything in return and free dome is free dome. As much as she despises that she sounds like Puck, she is not going to turn down an easy orgasm. ~*~*~ He panics. She rubs her hand across the front of his jeans and
whispers something about helping him out if he returns the favor and he panics. He thinks (hopes) she doesn’t notice the painfully obvious lack of a bulge in his pants when he suggests going down on her and is eternally grateful when she pulls her hand away to stare at him suspiciously when he mentions the blind fold. She agrees and his stomach plummets when he realizes he actually has to go through with this. Or rather, he has to find someone to go through with this for him. ~*~*~ She finds herself cornered by him on a Friday. She stares at him as he rambles through a proposition and has half a mind to stop him two sentences in, because she know exactly where this is going. But she waits for him to finish because she knows first hand how irritating it is to be rudely interrupted. He finishes speaking and she agrees immediately, ignoring his questioning about Finn and her apparently questionable sexuality because he did ask her after all, and he shouldn’t have if he was so worried about the emotional well-being of his
heterosexual life partner or her sexual preferences. She asks if he needs her to bring anything. He tells her no but seems to think better of it before requesting a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. ~*~*~ She notices he’s a lot more fidgety then normal when she arrives at his house. She would think it was cute, him being nervous about pleasing her, if it wasn’t so damn annoying. She goes through the motions like a champ. She falls back against his bed and pulls him on top of her. She sucks on his tongue when he shoves it sloppily into her mouth. She rubs her hips against him when he kisses her pulse point. When he detaches his lips from her neck to pant against her skin, she does something different. Instead of pushing him away to cool down like she normally would, she latches onto his shoulders and pushes down subtly. Sam looks at her, startled, and she arches an eyebrow at him expectantly. She pulls her spanks and panties down smoothly while he fumbles around in his dresser drawer before he approaches her cautiously with a dark green necktie.
He has to re-tie it twice before she assures him she can’t see anything. She lays back and breathes until she feels a dip in the bed and fingertips guiding her legs apart. ~*~*~ He makes a variety of silly faces and vulgar gestures at her before he’s absolutely certain she can’t see through the blindfold. Trotting as silently as he can towards the hall, he waves Rachel in from her hiding place in the second floor bathroom. She crawls onto the bed and pries Quinn’s knees apart before lowering her head to place kisses up and down Quinn’s inner thighs. He thinks (hopes) that this is the first time anyone has ever gone down on Quinn, so chances are she doesn’t know the difference between girl lips and boy lips. Though admittedly, his lips are rather lady like, so she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference anyway. He stands at the end of the bed, just in case Quinn talks to him while “he” is down there, but keeps his eyes firmly on the floor. Quinn sighs, and his eyes trail up the bed curiously, before snapping back to the carpet almost immediately.
He really did not want to see that. ~*~*~ She runs her tongue along the inside of her thigh before biting down gently. Quinn wasn’t wet from making out with Sam, but the attention Rachel pays to her sensitive skin seems to be doing the trick. When fingers tangle in her hair and firmly guide her towards Quinn’s center, Rachel panics because her hair is much longer than his and Quinn would be able to tell the difference quite easily. Luckily, she doesn’t run her hands through her hair; she just clenches her fist tightly when Rachel places a tentative kiss against her clit. It escalates rapidly from there. Quinn sighs and presses up against her mouth and it takes everything Rachel has not to moan. Soft kisses morph into firm licks, which turns into Rachel sucking greedily at Quinn’s clit while sliding two fingers deep into wet heat. She curls her fingers experimentally, and Quinn really seems to like that if the way her hips jerk up and her muscles clench briefly around Rachel’s fingers is any indication. A rhythm is set and it isn’t long before Quinn’s thighs begin to tighten around Rachel’s head as her breathing grows heavier.
When Quinn comes, it isn’t with a piercing scream or violent moan like Rachel has seen in those informational pornographic films. Her breath hitches and she whines a little as her inner muscles contract wildly around Rachel’s fingers and she moans, softly, one word. “Rachel.” ~*~*~ Lady Lips seems to be a more accurate nickname than she previously thought. The soft, full lips wrapped around her clit feel amazing. The fingers that slip inside her feel a bit small and delicate for a guy, but Puck’s thing is the only other thing that has ever been inside her, so maybe that’s normal. When those fingers curl in time with a particularly hard suck on her clit, Quinn’s hips arch and she feels the first stirrings of white heat flaring low in her belly. It feels good. It feels great. But she needs more. Behind the blindfold, behind her eyelids, the image of bright blonde hair and six-pack abs just isn’t doing it for her. Long, wavy chestnut hair and big, penetrating brown eyes cloud her vision before she can stop it, but she has no desire to stop. She imagines it is Rachel between her thighs, lapping
hungrily at her clit and rubbing torturously against her inner walls. That image alone makes her come. She barely hears herself moaning Rachel’s name over the rushing in her ears and her pounding heart. His room is dead silent, and only then does she realize exactly what she has done. She panics and attempts to stutter out an explanation as she tears hastily at the tie covering her eyes. It’s only when she finally has her sight back that the words stop spilling from her lips. She sees him at the end of the bed, looking terrified and a little nauseous. She sees her in between her legs, looking terrified and a lot turned on. The fingers still tangled in Rachel’s hair slacken for only a second before they re-grip, tighter than ever, to pull her up to Quinn’s level. Lips meet immediately and she forgets about everything except the feeling of Rachel straddling her lap and Rachel’s tongue slipping smoothly into her mouth and Rachel’s hips grinding slowly against her stomach.
~*~*~ He watches, dumbfounded, as they exchange heated kisses and breathless whimpers on his bed. When Quinn pushes Rachel’s sinfully short skirt up above her waist and slips her hand inside Rachel’s underwear, he turns away. He ignores the burning in his cheeks when Rachel moans Quinn’s name and walks quickly out of the room, despite the fact that the room is his. He thinks (hopes) they’ll be finished soon and decides to spend the time waiting with his iPod headphones shoved as far into is ears as is physically possible. On his way downstairs, his stomach gives a loud growl at the same time another groan sounds out from his room. He gives a reciprocal groan when he remembers the Cool Ranch Doritos Rachel brought him are in his backpack. The backpack that is sitting next to his bed. *************** Mine. Rachel groaned, pulling her exhausted form into a sitting position. She brought her hand up to her head, rubbing were she felt a migraine begin to build. She
rested her back against the headboard, eyes still shut. She tried to open them but winced as the bright light filtered into her view. Rachel slid back down into the memory foam mattress, head being swallowed by the immense pillows. She pulled the duvet up to her neck, wrapping the fluffy blanket around her. She felt a strain but ignored it, feeling a vibrating her stomach. Rachel shot up, sprinting to the adjoining en suite. She was bent over the porcelain bowl, gripping the sides, knuckles turning white from the force. All the food and drink she had consumed was being emptied into the hotel toilet. Tears ran to her eyes as the acid burned her throat. Suddenly, cold hands were on her neck, holding her long wavy hair back. Rachel gasped but her questioning was immediately cut short when another bout of vomiting overcame her. When her stomach was empty, she dry retched for a few more minutes, before rolling away and leaning against the cold bathtub. Rachel panted, getting oxygen back into her lungs, calming her body back down. The hands were gone from the back of her neck and were now rubbing her sides. Rachel groaned and fell into their embrace; words rambling from her mouth. Moaning about how alcohol was created by the devil, that she refused to drink again, that she hated Mr Schue and his stupid teambuilding ideas. The hands chuckled warmly and held Rachel as she babbled about how much she felt terrible.
It took Rachel several minutes to cease talking and realise who it actually was holding her…in the nude. The hands had draped wrapped a large towel over them but still… "Ah, I see you've stopped talking," The hands said with a smile. Rachel's eyes bulged as she turned. She was met with a grin. Rachel stood up, the force making her dizzy, and the towel slipping down. She stood stock still for a moment then ran out the room, fuzzy memories from last night seeping into her brain. Mr Schuester had taken them all to New York for Nationals. Not like they were actually in the competition but he had told them it would be a good educational experience. Rachel had been hesitant, spending two weeks away from her fathers for the first time ever, but had reluctantly agreed. Her next thoughts were when she was in the bar with the club. Mr Schue was meeting with Shelby to catch up and Puck had talked them into going to the bar. Rachel remembered having a drink. Another drink. Then Santana and Brittany had come out of their room and talked her and Quinn into having shots. Quinn made sure Puck was nowhere around. Then it hit her. They moved the party up to her room. Quinn was sharing with Mercedes and Tina. Santana and
Brittany had talked Mr Schue letting them share. Rachel was glad to be on her own. Arriving at the room, Santana had raided the mini fridge and extracted a cocktail of drinks, forcing Quinn and Rachel to drink. The two had looked at each other indifferently before taking the shots. The next few hours were bleary but Rachel distinctly recalled a chapel and a priest. "Oh my God!" Rachel yelled, throwing her arms in the air. She found her suitcase quickly, searching for clothes. "I think I've seen enough," Quinn smirked from the bathroom, a robe wrapped around herself. "How can you act so-" "Q! Are you in there?" Mercedes loud voice came from the other side of the door. "You didn't come back in the room last night and we're sending out a search party." "Mercedes," Rachel replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Quinn is here. Santana got us drunk and she kind of fell asleep." Quinn shot her a look, as Rachel pulled sweatpants on. Quinn whimpered when Rachel smothered her form with a large t shirt. "What?" Rachel hissed.
"I miss seeing you naked," Quinn sighed sadly. Rachel rolled her eyes. "Just pretend to be asleep," Rachel whispered. Quinn shook her head but threw herself on to the large bed in the middle of the room. Rachel restrained a chuckle and answered the door. "Congratulations," Kurt said sarcastically, throwing his arms around the brunette in a tight hug. "Um…thanks…" Rachel said, looking down. "Will you and Quinn make babies now?" Brittany asked, her pinkie linked with Santana's. "What?" Rachel asked incredulously. "Well you did get married Berry," Santana said. "And no B, two girls can't make babies." Brittany nodded in acknowledgement. "I-It really happened?" Rachel asked, backing into the room. "Yes," Tina said. "After you went to Vermont," Santana said. "Vermont?" Brittany asked. "Is that in Europe?"
"I'm married?" Rachel said, sliding to the floor. "To Quinn?" "We have been saying that for the past five minutes," Kurt said, walking into the room. "And how could you not tell from this mess?" Kurt gestured around the room. It appeared Quinn had genuinely fell asleep on the king sized bed. The sheets violently sprawled all over. The decorative pillows thrown in various places around the floor. Along with articles of clothing. Rachel blushed. Empty bottles of a variety of alcohol were lined up on the carpet. A snore escaped Quinn's lips and Rachel couldn't help but find it adorable. Kurt raised his eyebrows and pointed to Rachel's wrist. Rachel looked down and found the source of what had been bothering her all morning. A dressing was wrapped over it. Rachel could see an image peeking through. A heart with a Q in it. Rachel's eyes widened. "Oh and the ring," Tina said, pointing out the golden band wrapped around Rachel's ring finger. "Have they gone yet?" Quinn asked tiredly, opening her eyes. She blinked several times, rubbing her
eyes. She looked around to find eight faces staring at her. "I'll take that as a no." "What the Hell happened in here?" Mr Schue said from the doorway. He had a stern but confused expression about his face. Shelby was behind him. "This is my daughter's room?" She asked, with an arched eyebrow. "H-Hi," Rachel said, standing. "Mr Schuester I can assure you there is a reasonable explanation for all of this." "Yeah, Q and Berry got pissed, went to Vermont got married and came back," Santana said bluntly. "And then had sex by the looks of Q." Quinn looked perplexed for a minute then let her eyes drift down. "Oh…" Quinn rolled, pulling the robe back over thigh. "This is really awkward," Tina said, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. "It's like a really bad episode of friends," Shelby commented, looking at her daughter, head inclined to the right. "Didn't that happen in an episode of friends?" Mercedes asked with a quirked brow.
"Well…yes, but that defeats the purpose of the offence," Shelby said. "Shelby Corcoran, Rachel's mom," She smiled. The others nodded with beams. "I think we should…um…leave," Will said nervously, turning around and going down the corridor. "See you around Rachel," Shelby waved. Rachel nodded, still not really understanding any of it. "You're mom's…" Santana searched for the word. "… cool. Seriously, if that was my mother, I'd be on a one way trip to a Christian boarding school…actually, she did threaten me when she found out I actually wasn't a virgin…" Santana trailed off. "Anyway…" Mercedes said, facing Rachel and Quinn again. "What are you going to do?" "It's not like we have enough money for a divorce," Rachel said, laughing at the words that fell from her mouth. "Who said anything about a divorce?" Quinn asked sincerely. "Oh come on, Q," Santana chuckled. "You're not telling me you'd like to stay married to RuPaul?" "I wouldn't like to stay married to RuPaul…I'm not even married to RuPaul," Quinn said. "I'm married to
Rachel." "You could get an annulment," Tina offered. "Don't you have to have not consummated your marriage to do that?" Quinn asked, with a raised brow. "Damn stupid hormones," Rachel grumbled. Quinn faced her. "Rachel what's your problem with us being married. It's not really going to affect anything," Quinn said, subconsciously rubbing the golden band around her finger. She frowned. "Not going to affect anything…Quinn, it's going to affect a lot of things," Rachel snapped. Quinn giggled. "You certainly weren't complaining this much last night," Quinn laughed, before freezing in realising what she just said. "What do you mean?" Rachel asked quietly. "I remember bits and pieces, I wasn't as drunk as you," Quinn said her voice distant. "I remember drinking here, then S and B left to go do what they always do," Quinn said. "Amen," Santana laughed.
"Why are we praying?" Brittany asked. Santana shook her head and patted Brittany's arm. "Then I remember saying it would be fun if we could go to Central Park…" Quinn said. "But I thought it would be more fun if…" "We went to Vermont…" "And got married whilst looking at deer…" "Deer?" Mercedes asked incredulously. "Boy, that took some imagination." "What are we going to do?" Rachel asked, sitting down on the bed. "My dad's explicitly told me not to drink." Quinn stifled a laugh, running her foot over Rachel's back. "It's okay," She said softly. "Quinn, if this is your definition of okay, I'd like to see what you mean by not okay," Rachel said, absentmindedly leaning back into Quinn's touch. "Sleeping with Puck, getting pregnant, being homeless, moving into Puck's," Quinn listed. "Not being able to eat bacon…"
"What is it with you and bacon?" Kurt asked. Quinn ignored him. "Where are all the boys anyway?" Rachel asked. Mercedes burst out laughing. "Kurt's hiding," Tina said with a chuckle. "He might have done one of the things on your list last night." "You never…" Quinn said disbelievingly. Kurt nodded. "I always thought Puck was gay…" "Back to the more important discussion," Kurt said, gesturing to Rachel. Quinn sighed, sitting up properly. She manoeuvred herself so she was sat behind Rachel, her legs wither side of the brunette's, arms around her small waist and chin resting on her shoulder. "How natural does it feel?" Kurt asked. Quinn shrugged, pressing her lips into Rachel's neck, making the girl shiver. "Very," Rachel breathed. "There's your answer," Santana said with a small smile. "What was the question?" Brittany asked dumbly. Santana didn't answer again but placed a kiss to her lips. People stared.
"What?" Santana asked. "You knew we were doing this. I think the weirder thing is how they managed to not kill each other." She jerked a thumb to Quinn and Rachel. "Hate can be confused with love Santana," Quinn said quietly. "I realised a few weeks ago that I didn't hate Rachel." "What?" The two girls said, eyes wide. "I knew I was…not into men when I slept with Puck is wasn't joyful. It felt like a chore," Quinn explained, burying her face in Rachel's neck. "And after lots of thinking, I noticed that I stared at you an awful lot." Quinn chuckled, running her fingers of Rachel's thigh. "Geez, it's like a sitcom," Mercedes commented wryly. "What would we call it?" Quinn asked, between kissing Rachel's neck. "Glee?" Santana offered. They all laughed. "Who would play me?" Rachel gasped, when Quinn licked her pulse point. "Well, there's this Broadway actress, who's like Jewish as well- I think," Santana said. "And plus her nose…It's about as big as yours…which I know is a
feat." "Hey!" Rachel said indignantly. "What's her name?" Quinn asked, leaving red marks over the tanned skin. "Lea something or other…" Santana trailed off. "Michele?" Tina asked. Santana nodded. "My cousin's known her since she was eight." "What about Quinn, is there a blonde as good with her mouth to play her?" Rachel asked. Quinn smiled into the flesh. She trailed her hands up and down Rachel's sides. "What about the one from that new movie coming out soon?" Kurt asked. "The one who plays a photographer running from aliens?" Mercedes asked. "My cat eats dead aliens," Brittany said simply. "You mean fish?" Tina asked. Santana glared. "YYes, dead aliens, sure, why not?" she shrugged. "So, we're agreed," Kurt said. "We make a TV show call it glee and get Lea Michele and Dianna Agron to play these two." He gestured to the girls on the bed.
Rachel couldn't respond. Quinn had pulled her back, so she was lying on top of her, back pressing into her chest. Quinn groaned and flipped them over. "We should leave," Tina said, Kurt and Mercedes followed her out the room. "come down stairs when you're done, Mrs and Mrs…who's last name to they have. "Quinn Berry sounds like a cartoon," Rachel gasped. "Fabray…" Quinn said. Rachel moaned. The three left but Mercedes' head popped back in. "Are you coming?" Mercedes asked Santana and Brittany. "I was thinking we could join them," Santana said hungrily. Quinn growled, holding Rachel tightly. "Mine." End. Reviews are appreciated. *************** Title: The Bet 1/2 Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13 Length: 1180 Summary: In which a bet is made, and a winner is declared. This fits in the "Rules"/Signs 'verse, and contains events mentioned in Wet Hair. Sand. Kiss. and The Signs. I own nothing except the mistakes.
It started innocently enough: a simple bet between friends, made while mildly intoxicated, witnessed by two vaguely neutral parties. The stakes weren’t even that high — a dollar and bragging rights. Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel were all sitting in Santana’s living room on a Friday night, sharing a bottle of tequila that Brittany had gotten from her parents’ liquor cabinet. At the beginning of the evening, conversation had mostly revolved around school and gossip, but as the tequila flowed it loosened the tongues of all four girls. Quinn felt the effects most of all. “I’m telling you, I’m really good with girls! They can’t resist me!” She was facing the other three, sprawled on Santana’s couch with her head upside-down over the front.
“Yeah right, Quinn,” said Santana, looking up from nuzzling Brittany’s neck. “You have no girls; you have no skills; you have no hope.” Rachel laughed, but quickly sobered when she saw Quinn’s glare. “I’m sure you’re very charming, Quinn,” she said, fearful of the blonde girl’s wrath. “I’m a good kisser, too!” Quinn was pouting now, arms crossed over her chest and lower lip jutted out. “Actually,” said Brittany, “that part’s true. She is a good kisser.” “See?” asked Quinn petulantly. Santana glared at Quinn and wrapped her arms more securely around Brittany. “You know, Quinn,” Rachel said, “in the relatively short time that we’ve been friends, I’ve never heard you mention that you’d been kissing girls.” She took a sip of her margarita. “In fact, I’m not convinced that you’ve ever actually kissed a girl, for all your big talk.” Quinn righted herself on the couch. “Hey!” she said. “I’ve kissed three — ” she held up
two fingers, then four, then dropped her hand completely “ — three girls!” “Brittany doesn’t count,” Santana said. “It’s true,” said Brittany. “I’ve kissed everyone. I don’t count.” “Fine,” Quinn said. “Two girls. At cheerleading camps.” Santana laughed. “If it wasn’t someone we know, it doesn’t count.” “So you’ve never kissed a girl!” Brittany crowed triumphantly. Quinn slid off the couch. “I could kiss girls, if I wanted.” Rachel patted her shoulder sympathetically. “Whatever you say, champ.” “I could!” Quinn cried, now flat on the carpet. Rachel and Brittany exchanged a look. “Go ahead,” said Rachel, scooting closer. “Kiss me. I dare you.” Quinn laughed. “I’m not going to kiss you. Dares are
stupid, and I’m not going to kiss you.” “Okay.” Rachel shrugged. “It’s okay to be scared, Quinn.” “Look,” said Quinn, “if I wanted to kiss you, I’d kiss you. And you’d like it.” Santana and Brittany laughed. Quinn took a long drink of her tequila sunrise. “I’ll bet you a dollar that I can kiss you,” she said, finally. Rachel crooked an eyebrow and grinned. “Really?” “Really. Give me two weeks from tonight. If I haven’t done it by then, I lose the bet and owe you a dollar.” “And,” interjected Santana, “we get to call you a wimp from now until eternity.” Quinn swallowed nervously. “Is it a deal?” Rachel nodded. The two girls shook hands, and the bet was on. *** A week later, the girls were enjoying another girl’s night, this time at Rachel’s house. Quinn had come
very close to winning the bet on three separate times, but she had chickened out at the crucial moments. “So, you ready to admit defeat?” Rachel asked, smiling as she sipped her vodka-cranberry. “Why? You nervous? Scared you might like it?” Quinn, who was sitting next to Rachel on the couch, put her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “I would like you to know, Quinn, that although I am not in any way averse to kissing women, I don’t believe that you have the requisite skills to make kissing you an enjoyable experience.” Quinn frowned. “I’m a good kisser!” She removed her arm from around Rachel’s shoulder. “Really!” Santana laughed. “Whatever gets you through the night, Q.” *** An hour later, Quinn and Rachel were standing in the kitchen preparing another round of drinks. Quinn, decided that this was, at last, the moment. She put one hand on Rachel’s back and leaned in, closing her eyes and preparing herself to meet — thin air. She groaned; Rachel had turned, ready to take the next
round into the living room and preventing Quinn from landing her intended kiss. “Oh, Quinn, was that — I mean did I — were you trying to — ” Quinn nodded. “That should count. I made the effort; it’s not my fault that it didn’t work. Rachel laughed. “No, that’s so not how that works. But I will stand perfectly still right now if you want to try again!” Quinn grabbed her drink and stalked out of the room. *** Wednesday night should have been the night. Quinn was sitting in Rachel’s basement for their twiceweekly Murder, She Wrote sessions. As Rachel sat up after the first episode, ready to give Quinn a backrub, her face was only inches away from Quinn’s. Quinn knew that this was the moment, if there was ever going to be a moment at all. In that split second, however, she realized that she couldn’t win the bet sober. She didn’t want to cross a line with Rachel, and at least if she was drunk she could blame the alcohol if the kiss was bad (or, even worse, if the kiss was good).
*** “Friday night! Last chance for romance!” Santana greeted Quinn as the three other girls walked into the Fabray house. “I know,” said Quinn. “I’m going to win this yet. I have — ” she looked at her cell phone “ — almost five hours left.” Rachel laughed and hugged Quinn. “Sure you will, bucko. Let’s start drinking, ok? Santana brought rum, and I vote Goombay smashes!” After an hour and three drinks each, it was time to head to Puck’s house. His mom and sister had gone to visit a cousin in Shaker Heights, so he had taken the opportunity to throw a massive party. As the girls walked, Rachel grabbed Quinn’s arm. “Look, Quinn,” she said quietly, trying to keep the other girls from hearing. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll tell Santana and Brittany that you won the bet, so they won’t tease you. It was a stupid idea, and I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable, okay?” “Rach,” Quinn said, “I’m going to win this bet. Make sure your lips are well-glossed for the next four hours, ‘cause they’re going to need it!”
At that moment, Rachel and Quinn were walking past a house under construction. In what was once the front yard sat a portable dumpster and a storage pod. Quinn saw her opportunity and seized it. Pushing Rachel against the storage container, she kissed the shorter girl for all she was worth. Rachel’s tongue swiped across Quinn’s lower lip and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss. When lack of oxygen finally became a problem, she broke the kiss and stared at Rachel, open-mouthed. “I won the bet!” she screamed, running towards Santana and Brittany. ---
Santana and Brittany stared at Quinn in disbelief as she ran towards them, still yelling that she had won the bet. “Is this true, Smurf?” Santana asked Rachel as the shortest of the four girls approached, grumbling under her breath. “Yes. It’s true. She ignominin — ignominiousi — iginom — she shoved me up against a dumpster and kissed me and she should be ashamed!”
“For the record,” Quinn said, “it wasn’t a dumpster. It was a storage container. And I won the bet!” Rachel scoffed. “A dumpster!” Quinn grinned and stuck out her hand. “Gimme my dollar, and you can call it a dumpster.” Rachel grudgingly reached into the front pocket of her jeans and removed a single dollar. She handed it to Quinn, who took it and laughed. “Best dollar I ever earned,” Quinn said, snapping the dollar and walking towards Puck’s house. “I think I’ll frame it!” *** The next week’s girls’ night found the group back at Quinn’s house. Rachel had brought up the “ignominious attack against the dumpster” at every possible opportunity for the past week, and Quinn was getting frustrated. “Look, Rach,” she said, when Santana and Brittany had gone into the kitchen to get another round of drinks, “the bet was whether I would kiss you, and I did. Why do you keep focusing on the circumstances?”
Rachel didn’t respond. “If I didn’t know better,” Quinn mused, moving closer to Rachel on the floor, “I’d think you wanted me to kiss you again. Is that what you want, Rach?” Rachel laughed. “Certainly not, Quinn. I just find it absurd that you brag about your skills with women, and that was one of the least romantic kisses, if not the least romantic kiss, of my entire life.” Quinn sat back, hurt. “You didn’t like it?” she asked, suddenly vulnerable. “I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rachel smiled. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, per say. But it was against a storage container, three feet from a dumpster, at a construction site. Pick your locations better!” Quinn moved closer and Rachel held up a hand. “Not an invitation, Quinn.” *** It was sometime after midnight, although Quinn wasn’t exactly sure what time. Santana and Brittany had gone back to Santana’s house. Rachel was staying the night. They had been playing a rather heated game of Uno, but Quinn was getting tired. Unfortunately, although alcohol made Quinn tired, it
had the opposite effect on Rachel. “Let’s go to bed. I’m wiped.” Quinn gathered the cards after finally being defeated. Rachel frowned, but followed Quinn up the stairs and into the blonde’s room. “Oh my god,” she said, looking at the wall above Quinn’s desk. “I can’t believe you actually framed that stupid dollar.” “Hey!” Quinn exclaimed from the bathroom, where she was washing her face. “I’m proud of that dollar! I worked hard to earn it.” Rachel walked to the bathroom door and leaned against it. “That was hard work?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at her friend. Quinn laughed. “Well, it wasn’t so bad.” Rachel smiled and the girls finished their pre-bed routines. “Hey, Quinn, I’m not sleepy! Entertain me!” They were in Quinn’s bed. Sharing a bed with the other girl didn’t bother her — they had been doing it occasionally over the months with no awkwardness — but this was the first time it had happened since
Quinn had won the bet. Quinn would have been content to just go to sleep, but Rachel wouldn’t stop pestering her. “Rach, I’m drunk and exhausted.” “But I’m drunk and hyper! So talk to me. Let’s play a game!” “The only possible game that could keep me awake right now would be the ‘let’s make out’ game. And since we both know you don’t want to do that — ” Quinn was silenced by the feel of Rachel’s lips on her own. Several breathless moments later, Rachel pulled away. “What the hell was that?” asked Quinn. Rachel shrugged. “I’m really not tired,” she said, and kissed Quinn again. ************** Title: Mad World Chapter 1 : Aftermath Fandom: Glee
Genre: Romance/Humour Status: WIP Pairing: Quinn/Rachel Rating: T, PG-13. Mild violence, language and angst. Nothing the average teen can't handle. Words: 6,093 Spoilers: Takes place after 'Throwdown', where Sue Sylvester has told Jacob Ben Israel to publish the story of Quinn's pregnancy. Quinn Fabray is still living with her parents, who are still oblivious and total assholes. Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war. Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the characters. I only own my plot. However, if you happen to come into the possession to the rights of Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and gratefully buy them from you. Note: The title is Mad World, originally sung by Tears for Fears, though I admit I only heard of it thanks to Adam Lambert. Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate
to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. This chapter is Aftermath-Adam Lambert.I promise that not every chapter is related to Glambert. It just happened to fit for this one. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter. It all starts when that cranky bitch, Sue Sylvester tells Jacob Ben Israel, that annoying gossipmonger, to publish the story of Quinn Fabray's pregnancy. Which he does, with mild regret, but mostly with relish. It's the biggest story he's ever published, even compared to that huge article on the possible reasons for Sandy Ryerson's abrupt termination. For this story, he has proof, proof he proudly presents on his blog. He knows people read his blog, and even if they won't admit it in school, they check his blog every night for more gossip to spread. Perhaps after this he will rise, if merely a step, on the social ladder. He feels anticipation stirring inside him as he double checks and triple checks the article for errors. There are none; it's perfect. He presses the 'Publish' button. Within an hour, he has 46 comments. He smiles. Jacob Ben Israel has finally crossed the line to infamy. Rachel Berry fervently refreshes Jacob's blog, aptly and simply titled- "Gossip Guy", every other minute. She knows she should be trying to finish her rather large amount of homework, but she's firmly glued to
her computer screen, knowing but desperately hoping she won't see the story on the blog. Her rhythm is smooth. Click, breathe out at the headline she's reread 46 times, ("Is Kurt Hummel not quite straight?" It's pretty stupid. No one in their right minds would have called Kurt straight, but the article is demeaning and stupid and hurtful. Rachel wonders why people like Jacob, who live off the pain of others, even exist), counts to a hundred, and clicks again. And she freezes, because the title is now, "A bun in the celibate oven. Immaculate conception or just horny teens?" It is crude, but the article is worse. Rachel Berry, for the first time in her life, does not read every word, but skims, because she can't bear to read every scathing word. "Celibacy Club president, head cheerleader, ranked third hottest girl in the school, devout Christian... Quinn Fabray... pregnant... boyfriend, Finn Hudson... knocked-up... Virgin Mary? Unlikely. Perfection personified- Not anymore... Two-faced... Practice what you preach..." And it went on and on in this manner. It was painful to read, and Rachel could feel the tears spilling out of her eyes. Nobody deserved an article this vicious and deliberately hurtful to be written about them. Even when the blogger had written about her, it had been mildly positive, mainly because he was trying to get into her pants. Even Kurt's article wasn't half as bad as this one was. With a shaking hand, Rachel clicked "Comments". There were already 8 comments, and the article had just been
published. Some comments are rude, some are crude and sexual in nature, and some are just plain gleeful. They bask in the downfall of the mighty Quinn Fabray. Through her tears, Rachel wonders why she is not one of them. Finn Hudson receives a lot of text message throughout the night. Most are from the football team, congratulating him on 'tapping that', but some messages are just a few bottom-feeders gloating at his downfall. He wasn't the pregnant one, but he was the one who got Quinn Fabray pregnant, and she unwittingly has dragged him down with her. He ignores every message, except Rachel's "Omg, Finn. I'm so so sorry about this. How are you handling this?" He texts back, "Ok, i guess. kinda bz, tho. cya tmr." He isn't in the mood for Rachel Berry's long speeches. He gets enough of them on a day to day basis. Instead of logging onto his computer, or playing mindless video games, or even calling Quinn Fabray, Finn goes to his mother and wordlessly helps her with the dishes. His mother is surprised, but not unpleasantly so. She hands him a clean, wet dish, and he dries them and puts them carefully in their place. He doesn't let his hand shake and he doesn't break any of them. Kurt Hummel calls Mercedes Jones, Tina CohenChang and Artie Abrams as soon as he sees the
article. As glad as he is that he is no longer on the main page, he isn't happy about the article. None of them are. Mercedes rants about how much of a douche bag Jacob Ben Israel is, while Artie softly agrees in the background. Tina stutters about the future. They talk for a while, but they don't know what's going to happen. All they know is that they do need Quinn Fabray in the club, and they don't actually mind that she is. They've actually come to not hate her. In fact, they even feel mild outrage at the article. Tomorrow, they will corner Jacob and stare at him while he tries to hold onto his dignity, but will eventually fall to the floor whimpering and apologizing and begging, but they will not touch him. They will kill him with their eyes. Gossiping has its limits, and Jacob has crossed those lines. He will not be forgiven. Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang, Matt Lutherford, Santana Lopez and Brittany all appear to be offline on MSN, but they are in reality chatting to each other. Perhaps it is more plotting than chatting. They are calculating how many slushies Quinn will get thrown on her on the morrow. They are wondering how many slushies the five of them can hold in their hands without spilling any on themselves before they can find Jacob Ben Israel and make him regret even thinking about fucking up their friend. Because Quinn Fabray, as much of a deluxe bitch she is, is still their friend. And friends don't let losers like Jacob fuck up their friend's life and get away with it. They decide that
10 simultaneous slushies is really not bad enough. 10 simultaneous slushies for a week is a much better alternative. Sue Sylvester types in the web address she blackmailed off the Jacob kid, and smiles in satisfaction at the vicious article. Her head cheerleader will be ruined by tomorrow, because gossip in a small town like this spreads faster than the black plague. She smiles again, because comparing this story to the black plague is not very much inaccurate. It will spread, and it will spread fast, and it will bring Quinn Fabray to her knees. No one messes up her Cheerio's and gets away with it. Sue is aware that she will have to kick the pregnant teen out. She can't have a round ball being tossed around- it will hurt their chances at competitions. She'll just have to find a new head cheerleader. Santana Lopez and Brittany were out. They were too close to Quinn Fabray. They were liabilities. She would figure it out tomorrow. For now, she had to gloat. While so many other people were doing so many things, Quinn Fabray, the subject of their thoughts, is merely lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. She has no desire to read the article. She knows Jacob's style. She will be ridiculed so badly that what she has done to Rachel Berry will only be considered child's play. She knows this, but some part of her fruitlessly hopes that if she doesn't read the article, then it's not there. She knows that she is deluding herself. It's
already published, because she has been receiving text message after text message. She knows they will be blocked and anonymous, gloating and cruel, because at some point in her high school life, she was the one sending those messages. She knows she will never send messages of that sort ever again, because now she knows what it's like. She knows she will never laugh at another person being slushied again, because by this time tomorrow, she will have know what it's like to be covered in freezing cold corn syrup. She knows she will never call Rachel Berry by anything other than her name again, because she knows if she reads the messages on her phone, they will be much, much worse. Quinn Fabray knows that her reign of terror is over, and now she is on the bottom of the social ladder. But she doesn't care. It doesn't matter what they say. Tomorrow, she will walk into school with her head held high. She will face whatever they throw at her, whether it be insults or corn syrup, with dignity. She might be at the bottom of the social ladder, but she'd be damned if she allowed people to treat her that way. Did they really expect that she would just let them bully her into submission? She might go down, but she won't be pushed down. She will step down, just as gracefully and as quickly as she stepped up. She wonders for a moment why she is not sobbing hysterically into her pillow, like she did into Finn's chest earlier in the afternoon, but now she just feels
numb. She feels some shock too, but she is all out of tears. She also feels a steely resolve. She takes several deep breaths and picks up her phone. One by one, she reads and deletes the messages. When she is done, she checks her emails. One by one, she reads and deletes them. She pretends not to notice that none of her friends have sent her anything supportive except for, of all the people in the world, Rachel Berry. She pretends to not have received the message and deletes it anyway. You can be the most popular girl in school, but at the same time not have a single friend. She strives to hold back her tears. She does her homework. She says goodnight to her parents, who smile and pretend that their daughter doesn't look different. They pretend to not see the tense shoulders, the fake smile and the held-back tears. They pretend everything is perfect. They smile back and wish her sweet dreams. Her mother sets down her drink to hug her. Her breath smells like vodka. Quinn tries not to burst into hysterical laughter. The only dreams she would get were going to be nightmares. But all she does is smile and walk back to her room. She packs her books and her cheerleading uniform, because tomorrow she will quit before she can be kicked off the team. She can retain more of her dignity that way. She changes into her pyjamas and turns off the light. She curls up under her blanket and tries to go to sleep.
She stares up at her ceiling and she doesn't fall asleep. She watches the shadows on her ceiling, the soft silvery light coming in through her curtains and feels more alone than she ever has before. Somehow, it is morning and Quinn has overslept. She goes through her morning routine numbly and hurriedly. She skips breakfast and just remembers to take her keys and bag with her. She gives her hung over mother a wave- conversation is hard this early in the morning and drives fast to school. Miraculously, she is not late. In fact, she drove so fast she is early. She sits in her silver Nissan Versa and taps the steering wheel nervously. She watches people walk by, pretending not to see her, but at the same time throwing her not-so-subtle looks. She wonders whether she could just sit in the car until the bell rings, then berates herself for being so weak. She will not let a bunch of high school students make her hide. She might have fallen from grace, but Hell would have frozen over before Quinn Fabray decided to go into hiding. So she gets out of her car. And walks up to the front doors alone. And stops in front of her locker, still alone. Students watch her carefully as she walks past them and they walk past her. Whispers follow her, and
some nervous laughter, because she walks past them dressed in heels, jeans and a black shirt, and not her usual skimpy cheerleader uniform. Her hair is down. It was actually rather liberating to Quinn. It was a lot easier to breathe in her own clothes and her head doesn't feel like it's about to explode. Unfortunately, without her cheerleading uniform, she has to squeeze past smelly guys and gossiping girls, because she is no longer special, and they no longer part for her. She is anonymous, but not. She gets to her locker and puts her bag inside. She hears heavy footsteps coming up to her and braces herself. She takes a quick breath, and with her heartbeat slightly elevated above normal, turns around. But it is only Finn Hudson, who looks at her defensive posture weirdly. "Are... Are you okay?" He sounds uncomfortable, and his eyes don't meet hers. He has his confused/concerned face perfected. Quinn sighs inwardly. How does one admit that not only is her boyfriend not the father of her baby, but also not the one she's in love with? How does one admit so many things without completely annihilating another person? How does one break another person's heart? She doesn't know, but she doesn't feel like lying to him yet again. No, she is not okay; she is mildly depressed, pregnant and hormonal, and she is pissed that even though she might not love Finn anymore, he is still her boyfriend, and though she feels guilty that she's lying to him and basically taking him for a ride,
he is still her friend, and the least he could have done was send her a message last night. She takes a breath, but before she can speak, she sees red. Literally. Dave Karofsky is standing in front of Finn and her. He stares down at her over his nose, and even though Finn is taller than he is by several inches, Karofsky somehow stares down at him as well. His square jaw is firmly set in a wide smirk, and his arms are crossed over his chest. Finn is simply stunned. Karofsky is on the football team, and the unwritten rule is to never bite the hand that feeds you. Finn is not covered in corn syrup, but Quinn is his girlfriend, and the rule applies to her as well. Dave Karofsky has crossed the line. Quinn Fabray however, feels the Slushie drip down her face, sting her eyes, cover her lips. It continues its icy cold path down her shirt, soaking her shirt completely. It tastes like cherry. She hates cherry. She can hear snickers coming from around her, and whispers. People aren't moving. They are waiting. They are waiting for the reaction of the mighty Quinn Fabray. Will she run away, crying, or will her boyfriend defend her? The hallway is mostly silent, or maybe it wasn't. She couldn't tell. The blood rushing through her ears and her veins is too loud. She lets out an animalistic, ferocious snarl and takes a quick step up to the football player, who's smirk has
slipped. She grabs him by the lapels of his letterman jacket and slams him against the locker next to hers. He is a head taller and maybe 70 pounds heavier than her, but the adrenaline in her veins, combined with her vicious cheerleader training, pays off. His head slams against the cold metal and bounces back. He blinks rapidly, his mouth curling downwards. "Watch it, preggers. I don't have nothing against hitting a girl if she hits me first." The way he says girl makes Quinn's stomach curl up. She shoves him again and before he can react, lifts a knee and presses it hard against the front of his crotch. He lets out a yelp and a whimper when she doesn't take her knee away, but presses it down with more force. She won't permanently damage him, but she won't let him get away with this. When his eyes roll back in his head and his hands come up to grab her, she lets him go. He slides to the floor, groaning in pain. His hands go to his groin. He shouts at her from the floor. "You're just a pregnant ex-cheerleader! You're nothing anymore, Fabray! Your time is over. It's a new order over here!" Even down on the floor, he still thinks he is winner. Quinn leans over him, one foot hovering over his hand-covered groin, one sharp heel next to his face. She knew the heels would come in handy. She speaks in a flat, but commanding tone. "Listen, fuckface: I don't know your name, and I really don't care. Your name does not matter, because in 20
years, you will still be here in Lima, Ohio with your 2.5 kids and stupid Stepford wife. You'll have a stupid job and when you retire with your lousy pension, you'll cheat on your wife, who will leave you, taking the kids with her, and then you will die, fat and alone." The jock's eyes widen through his pain with shock and anger, but before he can swear at her, she continues talking in a scathing tone. "That's only if you're lucky. If you're not, this Slushie will make me sick and I'll have a miscarriage. I will come after you so hard you'll end up staring at your wife and kids through the bars in a window and talking to them through a telephone." She cocks her head and kicks his hands away from his crotch, pressing the sharp end of her heel there. "Don't even move." He doesn't. She continues, louder now, because the hall is deathly silent, and she's pretty sure someone is filming this. "Does this get you off, douche bag? Do you feel better about yourself now? Do you feel happy that the only time you feel good about yourself is when you make other people feel like shit? Bullying others- Is that how you want to go through the rest of your high school life? Do you feel like the bigger person now?" Her voice is cold and piercing. Dave Karofsky looks away, unable to take the flashing of her eyes. They are an icy and fierce colour. For a moment, Quinn wonders where her words are coming
from. She wonders if she is talking to Dave Karofsky, or whether the words are meant for herself. After all, just a day ago, she was the one laughing at the people who got slushied. "Well? Answer me!" Her voice is high and louder now. Soon, the teachers will come out because they will be wondering why the usually noisy hallway is unnaturally silent. Dave Karofsky doesn't answer her. He turns his head away, shame colouring his cheeks. Quinn bares her teeth and leans down close to his ear. "The next time you think about doing anything with a Slushie other than drinking it, think about what happened today." She stands up straight; tall and defiant; she walks off down the hall, not giving Dave or Finn another look. The students previously crowding around them back away quickly and nervously, as though afraid she will take it out on them next. They allow her to stalk past them with no comment, though several unseen people clap for her. The people she has already passed begin to whisper, and the football players she passes give her a look of grudging respect before rushing to aid, and laugh, at their teammate. She hears Finn calling out to her from behind her, but she keeps walking before turning into the next bathroom and he stops. She opens the door and says flatly, "Leave me alone, Finn. Go to class now or you'll be late." Finn's mouth opens in surprise, and he is prepared to argue that he wants to help her, but Quinn cuts him off with shocking news. "I'm breaking
up with you." "What?" Is all he can exclaim. "Look, you still want your popularity. You still want to be somewhere up there on the goddamned social ladder. So go. You didn't help me earlier, and I don't need your help. I've proven that I'm strong enough alone. I can live without you, and you'll definitely be better off without me." She speaks gently but firmly, and without malice. It's for the best. Eventually she would have had to do this, and it's probably best to do it right now, while she is still high off the adrenaline coursing through her veins. But Finn isn't going to back off that easily. He scowls and crosses his arms tightly. Angrily, he says, "You can't just brush me off like that, Quinn. I was going to defend you, and you can't just dump me because of a small thing like that! And that baby's mine! You can't just tell me to leave you alone. I have a right to that child." It is time. It was best to end the charade right now and let Finn be absolved of all responsibility. "No, it's not. The baby's not yours." Quinn looks Finn right in the eyes as she says this, and he knows she isn't lying. He feels weak, and then he feels shock. "But.. But that stuff about the hot tub..?" Quinn sighs tiredly. How much of an idiot could Finn Hudson really be? "How much dumber could you possibly get, Finn
Hudson?" And it's mean of her, but she can't help herself. "I know you're just a jock, but..We didn't even have sex, Finn! And we were both still dressed, for god's sakes. Plus, I was still a virgin at the time. How did you even get to high school?" She is exasperated. Why did she even go out with him? Finn is stuttering now, but he manages to utter a complete sentence. "So... So the father.. Isn't me?" Quinn shakes her head. This was going to break him. "The father is Puck." She says softly, staring at his chest. All the flame has gone out of her. Finn is still for a moment, then his fist slams into the wall next to her face. She doesn't flinch. "Bitch." This is whispered in the most broken voice Quinn has ever heard in her life. "How could you do this to me?" Finn looks at her as though she has stabbed him in his heart. The hurt, the betrayal in his eyes... Quinn looks away. He is entitled to hit her, probably wants to, but he doesn't, because he is a man. He does the only thing he can- he walks away. Quinn lets the bathroom door swing shut as the bell rings. She resolves to skip class. It's Spanish, and she can blame her morning sickness. Mr Schuester would just look at her with his compassionate eyes at glee later and smile and nod and said he understood. Then he would hand her the assignment she missed. He would not mark her down as absent. Quinn stares at herself in the mirror, wondering again
when she had decided to attack a six-foot-tall football player. Her hands are shaking now, as her body calms down from her high. Tears pool in her eyes and she blinks them back hard, but it doesn't work. They fall anyway. She quickly wipes them off and tries to control her sobs when the door opens. She groans when the last person she would have wanted to see at that moment walks in. Rachel Berry. Of course. It is only cruel fate that would send her the most annoying person on earth right this moment. She turns and tries to walk past the girl, but Rachel blocks the door. "I understand if you would like to use another bathroom, but is it really necessary?" Her voice is pleading. Quinn sighs. "Leave me alone, Berry." They are both vaguely aware that it's the first time Quinn has called Rachel by anything other than an insult. "I'm covered in Slushie and I have a headache coming on. I'm not at all in the mood for any of your insanely long speeches and/or lectures, so could you just please leave me alone? I really don't need your sympathy. There's nothing you can do for me.(*)" Quinn puts a hand on her cold forehead, because she really does feel a headache coming on. Rachel, on the other hand, seems to not have heard a single word Quinn said. "I just wanted to say that I very much appreciate and enjoy what you did and said to Dave Karofsky earlier. It was very impressive and brave of you to stand up to him. I would also like
to thank you, because it's something I've wanted to do for a very long time. And I think I speak on behalf of all the other glee club members when I say that, because maybe we won't get slushied as much after this. You have done what all Slushie victims wish they could do, and-" Quinn holds up a hand, slightly dazed. "First of all, you talk too much, too fast. And secondly, I didn't do it for you. Now if you don't mind, I have to wash my hair and my face." And then she walks back to the sinks and sticks her head under a tap. It occurs to her that not only is the space between the tap and the bowl wide enough for two heads, it is also comfortably tall so that she doesn't have to lean over too much. She wonders why she has never noticed that the bathrooms seem almost designed for people who have been slushied. As she washes the red out of her hair, she wonders why she hasn't heard the short singer leave. She sighs and admits to the sink. "Perhaps it takes a fall like mine before something like this can happen. I mean, I've always been on the other end of the Slushie, but today, I finally feel what it's like to be slushied, and honestly, it's a really bad feeling. But because of that, I know what it's like to throw a Slushie at other people also, and I know what we fear. It's people who stand up to us. And I know that I didn't get beaten up by that jerk just because he was mostly in shock. They're all cowards, you see." She feels
embarrassed, but turns to look at Rachel anyway. She's not there. Quinn sighs but is rather relieved that the girl did not hear her speech. It was more for herself, at any rate. The door opens again, and this time, Rachel Berry is holding a bulky grey thing that looks vaguely like a hoodie and a mid-sized towel in her hands. She offers the towel to Quinn with a timid smile. "I always come prepared with extra clothes. I suppose since this is your first Slushie, you wouldn't have thought of it, though frankly, I am surprised you didn't expect this," then she blushed, "Sorry, that was kind of rude." Quinn feels a smirk tugging at her lips. "You talk too much," but she is reaching for the towel. "Thanks." She wipes her face dry and then furiously rubs her hair. She curses her long hair. She sighs down at her sticky shirt. Almost unaware that she is speaking, she says, "I did plan to bring clothes, but I woke up late and I just... forgot." And then she wonders why she just explained herself to Rachel Berry. Rachel holds out the grey thing. It is indeed a hoodie, which honestly surprises Quinn. She didn't expect Rachel Berry to own anything other than argyle, which is probably pretty stupid. No one can wear argyle every single day... Can they? Quinn does not reach out to take the hoodie. Admittedly, going around smelling of cherry and feeling sticky all over does not hold much appeal for her, but neither does wearing
Rachel Berry's 'Wicked' hoodie that says 'THE WICKED WITCH WAS FRAMED.' Somehow, the quote cuts too close to home. She can't help but think of herself as the wicked witch. Rachel Berry has kept her mouth shut for far too long, and the words spill out of her. "I don't have ManHand, Rupaul or Treasure Trail germs, Quinn. And you don't want to go around in that soaked shirt all day long, either. It's detrimental to your, and your baby's, health. Also, you have been soaked in a Slushie, and I know it's cold. You will need something warm to wear, and if you think you can change into your Cheerio's uniform temporarily, it's not a good idea. You'll freeze and get pneumonia or hypothermia and then I'll feel guilty because I let you do that. I swear I didn't put itching powder or anything on the-" Quinn's headache was coming back, so she took the hoodie from Rachel to get her to shut up. "God, Berry, you-" "Talk too much, yes, you've said," but Rachel was smiling, then her smile faltered. She blushed slightly and said, "I don't mean to be intrusive or too forward, but keeping your, uh, undershirt on isn't a good idea. Cherry stains really quickly, and while I really don't mind letting you wear it, I do rather like my hoodie without cherry stains." Quinn stares at Rachel as though she has three heads. "You want me to walk around..." Her voice trails off.
Rachel nods nervously, her head moving too fast. Quinn idly wondered if she was still pumped up on Vitamin D. "Stop moving your head. It looks like it's going to fall off." She is surprised when Berry listens to her and her head abruptly stops moving. It's like watching a bobble-head doll. "The hoodie is thick enough, so, um, you won't feel too... uncomfortable." Rachel blushes again and Quinn rolls her eyes. She unbuttons her shirt and folds it neatly on the sink. She sees Rachel turn around and cover her eyes in the mirror. She can't help but smirk this time. "Honestly, Berry, have you never been a locker room?" She hears a muffled mumble of nonsense through the other girl's fingers, but can't understand them. She shakes her head and takes off her 'undershirt'. That girl really was quite insane. Who still referred to a bra as an 'undershirt' in this day and age? As much fun as it was making the shorter girl uncomfortable, the cold air in the bathroom was beginning to get to Quinn. She quickly cleaned off whatever Slushie still remained on her and pulled on the hoodie, thanking god that at least the Slushie hadn't dripped into her underwear. That would've been awkward. She rolls her eyes at Rachel, who still has her eyes covered. Quinn clears her throat loudly, startling the girl. Now herself feeling mildly uncomfortable, Quinn says, "I'll clean these and give them back to you."
Rachel nods, just once, then says, "I can give you a bag for them, because I'm sure they will soak into your bag otherwise." It is the shortest thing the girl has said throughout the entire fiasco, and Quinn is grateful for it. They walk out of the bathroom together awkwardly, Rachel holding the door for Quinn, who has her hands full. "Thanks," she mutters. They walk swiftly past the classrooms, trying not to attract Mr. Schuester's attention, but it is without cause, because Mr. Schuester is busy trying to untangle Finn and Puck who are fighting on the ground and couldn't care less about the two girls who are skipping his class. Rachel turns around at the sound of Finn's yelling and peeks into the class. "... best friend.. MY girlfriend...Cheater!.. Asshole!" The entire class bears witness as Noah Puckerman takes the hits, accepts them and seems almost glad for them. For the first time in his life, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman does not fight back. They are in shock, but before it can go too far, Mr. Schuester has pulled them apart and is now angrily lecturing them. He is so angry at them that he doesn't even take them outside, away from the stares of the class. Rachel doesn't hear what he says, because she is in shock. She didn't hear complete sentences, but what she hears she easily pieces together. She concludes that Quinn must have cheated on Finn with Puck, and Finn would only be that angry if the baby were also Puck's. Puck wouldn't let Finn beat him up so badly if
it wasn't so. She backs away from the door and down the hallway. Quinn is leaning against her own locker, her forehead resting against the cold metal. Rachel cannot see the rest of her face, but judging by the shaking of her shoulders, the blonde is crying. Not just crying, but sobbing. She takes huge gasping breaths and appears to be hyperventilating. The brunette hurries over to her locker and pulls out a plastic bag and a box of tissues. She walks over to Quinn's locker, which is not that far away, and takes the sticky things away from her. Quinn doesn't resist, or turn around. Silently, Rachel presses the box of tissues into Quinn's hands. By the time Rachel has placed the clothes and the towel in the plastic bag, Quinn has already halted her sobs. Her shoulders still tremble, and her chest still heaves slightly, her eyes are red, and her voice is hoarse and thick at the same time. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way,' she whispers to the locker. "I just... got kind of drunk with Puck and I was kind of depressed that night and it just... It got out of hand; I can't even remember it. I wasn't supposed to get pregnant. I'm the Celibacy Club President, for fuck's sake.' Rachel is taken aback at the curse, but she controls herself and doesn't say anything, because Quinn Fabray will probably never speak to her as nicely as she is speaking now ever again, and she should appreciate it.
"Finn... Finn is a nice guy. He doesn't deserve this." Quinn takes a deep breath. "I broke up with him. He's yours. Make him happy, Berry. I love.. loved him, but I've hurt him so badly. I've been so stupid," Quinn pauses for a second, not sure what to say now, then she goes, "And thanks, I guess, for the clothes.. And the towel." Her voice is oddly final. Quinn turns to look at Rachel, who's eyes are wide and sad. "Everyone makes stupid mistakes, Quinn. It's high school. It could have happened to anyone of us." "Really, Berry? Who goes around cheating on their boyfriend with their boyfriend's best friend and then proceeds to get pregnant and then decides to pretend it's their boyfriend's baby anyway? Who goes around losing their virginity to someone they don't even particularly like? Tell me. Who? You?" Quinn lets out a sarcastic, slightly hysterical laugh. Quinn almost breaks down yet again, but with a shuddering breath, controls herself. "Go back to class, Berry. Go comfort Finn and bitch about me to him. And, if you don't mind, tell Mr. Schuester I felt terribly ill and went home." Rachel cocks her head. "Are you really going home, Quinn? You really shouldn't be driving in this condition. Would you like me to drive you home?" Quinn sighs. Rachel was like the annoying puppy you didn't want to kick, but who wouldn't leave you alone. "Just... Just go, Rachel. Leave me alone." And then
her eyes widen when she realized what she just said. Rachel's eyes widen in surprise as well. "I.. Okay. Bye, Quinn. Take... take care of yourself. Don't... don't do anything stupid, okay?" She sounds bewildered. Quinn Fabray just called her Rachel. She stumbles back slightly and turns to walk off. Quinn grabs her bag and is rummaging for her car keys when she hears Rachel, no, Berry, calling her name. She turns to face the girl, mildly exasperated. "Yes, Berry?" She stresses last name, hoping that the girl will actually leave. It's not that she's not (grudgingly) grateful; it's just that it's Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Jacob would have a field day. "Will you be coming back for glee club? Sectionals is coming soon and... We kind of need you there for practice." Quinn rolls her eyes again and nods stiffly at the hopeful looking girl. Even if she weren't looking at the girl, Quinn knew she would've been blinded by the 100 kilowatt smile Rachel throws at her before turning around and walking away. If you read the lyrics to Aftermath, you'll see that it's a song about how when something goes wrong, in the aftermath, you're not alone. This chapter is not particularly based off it, although it does related slightly to how Quinn Fabray's bad decision led to Jacob Ben Israel's post, and this chapter is mainly about what happens after he makes such a terrible post.
Also, (*)I don't need your sympathy. There's nothing you can do for me.(*) It's a line from Strong EnoughCher. I also want to add that not every chapter will be as angst-filled and depressing as this one is. The genre is, after all, Romance/Humor. Or as long. I just really needed to write this chapter down to tie up some loose ends, and to open a brand new can of worms. I'm mean that way. Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is important to each and every writer, and I promise to read and reply to all signed reviews. ---------------Title: Mad World Chapter 2 : The Truth - Good Charlotte Fandom: Glee Genre: Romance/Humour Status: WIP Pairing: Quinn/Rachel Rating: T, PG-13. Mild violence, language and
occasionally angst, as well as the scattered innuendos. Nothing the average teen can't handle. Words: 4,301 Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war. Spoilers: There aren't any. A few of my own twists, but nothing that would ruin Glee for those who haven't watched it yet. Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the characters. I only own my plot. However, if you happen to come into the possession to the rights of Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and gratefully buy them from you. Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter. Rachel's smile slips as she walks back to Spanish class, but even her indefatigable optimism has been dampened at the thought of seeing Finn and Noah. She is not sure what she is going to do. Finn is now single, and of course, it's makes perfect sense that
she would swoop in and scoop him into her arms. However, she doesn't really want to be the rebound girl, and she can't help the image of Finn as a giant puppy with wide, tearful eyes. Sometimes, she wonders if she really is meant to be with him. She has Quinn's blessing now, if you could call it that, but the urge to have Finn is suddenly gone. The challenge is gone, and so is the want. She sighs and pushes the classroom door open. The attention of the class turns to her for only a moment; Rachel Berry walks into class late all the time, thanks to her daily slushies, so it's not a big deal. Besides, the mini drama in front of them is far too interesting. Some people have their cell phones out and are discreetly recording the two boys getting chewed out by Mr. Schuester. Tonight, there would be a lot of WMHS students on the Internet, looking for Quinn Fabray's outburst and assault of Dave Karofsky and Mr. Schuester's nagging of Hudson and Puckerman on YouTube. Jacob was going to be delighted. Story after story came his way. He was already imagining the title of tonight's blog post. "It's Babygate in Lima, Ohio, babes!" He thinks it's brilliant, witty and to the point. And it takes his mind off his 10 Slushies-soaked shirt. Mr. Schuester also looks up at Rachel when she walks in. He breaks off mid-speech and looks strangely relieved, then he notices the rest of the class hanging over the edge of their seats. He quickly
abandons the still furious-looking Finn Hudson and swollen-faced Noah Puckerman and scribbles an assignment on the board. Then he drags the both of them, and Rachel, out of the class. He shuts the door firmly, and then turns on the three of them. "Rachel, I'm sure you know what is going on." He waited for Rachel to nod, which she did. "Have you seen Quinn Fabray? I don't want to do this during school hours, but...' he gestures weakly at the two boys. Finn glowers slightly. "There's nothing you need to do, Mr. Schue. I already talked to Quinn, she's the one who told me all this. There's nothing to say. My best friend and girlfriend cheated on me and lied to me. I'm not sticking around for this shit." Rachel butts in here. "What do you mean you're not 'sticking around for this shit'?" Finn lifts his head and stares her in the eyes. "I mean, I'm not going to stay in glee club if I have to see those two every day. You think it's easy being quarterback and male lead, and then getting screwed over? No way, Rachel. I like glee club and all, but... It's either me or those two, Mr. Schue,' he turned back to face the teacher. Mr. Schuester sighed and gave an imploring look to Rachel. Noah still hasn't said anything. Rachel turns to him first. "Noah?" "Berry."
Rachel scowls slightly. She did not like being mocked, especially when glee club, and therefore her future as a star, is on the line. "You're an ass." She surprises herself, because that is not what she meant to say, but she cannot stop her word vomit. "You're an asshole who took advantage of drunk teenager who didn't know what she was doing. Finn?" She turns to Finn, who looks confused. "Yeah..?" "Look, I just spoke to Quinn. She left because she wasn't feeling well. She said... she said that she was kind of depressed that night and Noah got her drunk and then it just kind of happened. She didn't mean for any of this to happen. She never wanted to hurt you. And I know you feel terrible right now, Finn, but don't take this out on the glee club. We need all of you; there's only 12 of us and we need all of us to even think about going to sectionals. Think it over a little bit, Finn. You don't mean this." Rachel is imploring and almost begging. Mr. Schuester nods together with Rachel, backing her up. Rachel Berry uses the widest, biggest eyes she has, as well as her most sincere tone she has in her repertoire. She knows she is going to be the best actress in the world, because all she wants to do right now is slap Finn Hudson. He's being selfish and immature. People went through shit all the time and came out the other side victorious. She herself was a fine example. She went through daily slushies, namecalling, pornographic pictures of herself in the girl's
bathroom, of all places, and still she walked with her head held high. Admittedly, the situation was different, but the basis was that nothing could hold you down, not even a pregnant girlfriend and a lost best friend, if you really were committed. Finn Hudson was full of stupid excuses and they were pissing Rachel off. For a moment, Finn looks like he might have caved, but then he squares his shoulders and defensively says, "People don't always mean what they do, or do what they mean. She might not have meant for it to happen, but it did. What she did was unforgivable, Rachel. I thought you of all people would understand that. She wasn't exactly nice to you, either." Rachel is very much tempted to pull a Quinn and start ragging on a six-foot plus football player about how 'to err is human and to forgive is divine', even though he most likely wouldn't have the slightest idea what it meant, but surprisingly, Noah starts to speak, rather angrily, in fact. "You wanna know the whole story, bro? You wanna know why she slept with me? It was at my last party, the one before school started. She wasn't even drinking at first. Then you got a little drunk and started flirting with some chick. Do you even remember?' he doesn't wait for a shocked Finn to reply. "Don't pretend that you're still an innocent little virgin, you punk. You fucked some random cheerleader that night. And you weren't even subtle about it! You just
grabbed her and went to your car. Quinn was still sober and she saw everything. She thought you didn't like her because she was fat or something, then she started drinking. The only reason she slept with me was because she was depressed and I was the only guy there who was paying her any attention. And she was drunk. I even had to take her home after we did it because you were the one who brought her to my place and you'd already left with that girl, whoever she is. And, after that she felt guilty, because she was convinced I must've slipped something in your drink, because golden-boy bloody Finn Hudson would never have done anything like that if he was in his right mind. It had to have been my fault." Rachel and Mr. Schuester are gaping, but Finn looks guilty. "She wanted to let you think it was your baby so you could be the loving boyfriend and make yourself feel better. And now you're acting like it's such a big deal she made a mistake, even though you did the exact same thing. I might have gotten her pregnant, but I would take her as my girlfriend and I would take care of her so much better than you have. You're pathetic and you're the asshole. And that's the truth." Noah Puckerman shoves Finn, who stumbles backward. Finn tries to attack Puck again, but is stopped by both Mr. Schuester and Rachel. In a firm and angry tone, Mr. Schuester says, "Enough! I have let this go on for far too long! Noah, go see the nurse or you won't be able to look out of your eyes later at practice." Puck
fumes and shrugs, but walks off. "Finn, you're very talented and I hate saying this to you, but it would appear that you're not the only one culpable in this relationship. I will not kick Quinn Fabray and Noah Puckerman off because of you. I'm not going to kick anybody off. I need all of you kids and I will not tolerate being threatened by my own students! If you really think you've done nothing wrong, then go. But I want you to think things through and maybe come to a good conclusion. If you do, then I will see you at practice later as well. If you don't..." Mr. Schuester sighs regretfully. "However, I will let you miss the rest of my class. I'd like you to go somewhere and think. Clear your head and then come back to me with your decision. I want you to be rational and smart, because that's what you are Finn, no matter what your grades say." Finn looks like all the wind was knocked out of his sails. Suitably chastised and embarrassed, he walks off without a word. Mr. Schuester sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Rachel? Thank you for trying to help. Do you have any idea where Quinn has gone?" Rachel is still in a mild state of shock and doesn't reply. Finn slept with someone other than Quinn? Noah Puckerman so obviously in love with Quinn Fabray? The world has gone insane. Mr. Schuester waved a hand in front of her eyes, startling her.
"Yes, yeah, I mean, no! I have no idea where she went. She just said to tell you she felt ill and went home." Rachel shakes her head to clear it a little. It helps somewhat, but she is still reeling from everything that just happened. "However, Mr. Schuester, I don't actually think she went home. She seemed rather distracted and not at all like herself. She did say that she would be back for glee, though. Also, it would seem that she hasn't told her parents about her pregnancy so I highly doubt that she would return home to her mother." Mr. Schuester listens and runs his hand through his curly hair. "This is such a mess,' he murmurs, 'and I am a terrible teacher for telling you to do what I am about to tell you to do." He hands her the keys to his car. "Find Quinn. I'm afraid she might be driving around pondering suicide. I don't really think Quinn Fabray is suicidal, but she is pregnant and hormonal and confused and...stuff. Bring her back or at least make sure she doesn't get into an accident. I know the two of you don't get along very well, but you said you spoke to her, and also, you're the only one not failing Spanish." Rachel's eyebrows crease and she shakes her head. "Mr. Schuester, I can't take your keys." The man throws his head back and lets out an explosive sigh. "I can't leave, Rachel. I'd love to go and look for her myself and it's bad enough that I just let Finn, who is, incidentally, failing Spanish, cut class, but she's
pregnant with a baby, Rachel, and as much as you may not like her, she's still your-" "Mr. Schuester, that's not what I meant." Rachel gives the keys back to the bemused teacher and says, "I have my own car which I know how to drive and am less likely to crash in. But I am glad that you care so much about Quinn. It would seem that not a lot of people do." Rachel says, very matter-of-fact, and then she promptly turns and walks off. Will Schuester frowns slightly at what he just did, that is, basically encourage a student to cut class to drive around town. It was probably unnecessary and he probably overreacted, but he is worried about Quinn, and sending Rachel back into the class without either Finn or Puck would send the other kids into a frenzy. He didn't like it, but he knew what the short brunette had to go through most days. He just wished he could something about it other than just sending her out of school. He sighs, yet again, and walks back into his class, quieting his students as he did. They lower their volume, but keep watching their videos playing on their cell phones. Today was the best day of high school ever! A mile or so away, sitting alone at one of a few swings at the park, Quinn Fabray would have strongly disagreed with them. Her life really couldn't get any worse. Or so she thought. That was before a short, brunette, loud and annoying girl plopped onto the
swing next to her. Of course. Send her Rachel Berry whenever she thought her life couldn't get any worse just to prove that her life could get worse. Brilliant. For a while, there is glorious silence. The sun is filtered by the trees, and there is a gentle breeze blowing. The birds are singing and the grass and flowers are simply glowing. Then Rachel Berry breaks the silence. Quinn groans inwardly and leans her head on the chain of the swing. She can't be bothered to run off. The girl would probably just follow after her doggedly. She vaguely realizes that the other girl was talking rather a lot and rather nervously, so what she was saying probably wasn't that important. It didn't matter much. Quinn tuned out the other girl out anyway. After a few minutes later, Rachel finally realized that Quinn Fabray was really just staring out into the distance and sighing to herself every few sentences and not bothering to listen. She couldn't help huffing, then she got off the swing and went to stand in front of the blonde, finally getting her full attention. Quinn just looked at her with her with delicately raised eyebrows that basically conveyed her desire for the short chick to leave her alone. And she was short, like, really short. Even though she is standing, she is just half a head taller than Quinn. The swings were high, but not that high. Lost in her thoughts about how short the girl was for her age, Quinn again didn't hear what the girl said.
Exasperated, Rachel repeats herself yet again. "Will you please listen this time, Quinn? As much as I like talking, it's no fun if the other person completely ignores you." She waited for Quinn to give her a response. The blonde just shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm distracted, Berry. Can you blame me?" Rachel slumps and looks defeated. "Quinn, you really have to stop treating me like the enemy. I'm not. None of us are." Quinn lets out a sharp bark of laughter and looks away. "No, really," Rachel insisted, stamping her foot, which caused Quinn to recoil slightly in amusement. "Look, didn't you hear about what happened to Jacob? He got 10 slushies in the face, Quinn. Ten! Even I've never even gotten 10 slushies in the face at the same time. And he almost wet himself. You wanna know who did that? It was Noah, Mike, Matt, Santana and Brittany who threw the slushies, which I wouldn't usually approve of, but this is really a special case. And Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie basically stood over him while he was still dripping slush and... If looks could kill, Quinn, Jacob would've died 10 times over." Rachel takes a breath while Quinn takes this in, then she continues in a rush. "And the only reason I'm here in this park looking for you is because Mr. Schuester was worried about you and sent me out to find you. He was worried you might..," Rachel stage whispers, "Kill yourself."
At this, Quinn Fabray cannot help but laugh. It wasn't like she hadn't considered it. She says so, which makes Rachel Berry gasp with shock. "It's not that surprising, Berry. It's the easiest thing to do, but...,' she puts a hand on her still flat stomach, "It wouldn't be fair." She doesn't say anything else and Rachel awkwardly moves back to the swing next to her. A lot of their encounters seem to be nothing but awkward. "How did you find me, anyway?" Quinn much prefers silence, but with Rachel Berry there, silence is just too weird. "I drove around in a square around the school hoping to see your car. I went from street to street further and further away from the school. It was a long shot, but I figured that you probably wouldn't go to a cafe, because this is a small town and someone you know probably works there or something and then I came to the park and circled around it once and saw your car. So I parked and came to find you." Rachel sounds modest, but Quinn can tell she is proud of herself. The brunette falters slightly when Quinn challenges her. "And now that you've found, what are you going to do? Take me back to school? Annoy me to death?" "I haven't decided yet. Mr. Schuester just told me to find you to make sure you didn't crash into a tree, thereby killing an innocent and necessary form of life as well as yourself." Rachel purses her lips in thought.
"I'm glad you don't include me in 'innocent and necessary form of life',' Quinn remarks wryly. Rachel hastens to speak again. "I'm sorry. You are, actually. I mean, you're not really innocent, but you are. And you're necessary. Really, you are." Rachel is aware she isn't making much sense, because Quinn's eyes are going out of focus and she appears to be tuning out. Again. She attempts to redeem herself. "You are innocent. And necessary. You're necessary and you're an important part of glee club. You have a great voice that is, on occasion, sharp, but otherwise not bad." "I can't wait to hear you explain my innocence, Berry,' Quinn says sarcastically."Surely even your word vomit can't make me into a better person." Rachel is mildly offended that the things she says are referred to as 'word vomit', but she ignores it and presses on. "I know why you slept with Noah. He pulled a Quinn and totally ratted out Finn sleeping with some cheerleader. I understand that under the circumstances, the choices you made were not entirely your own. That doesn't completely make you innocent, but it does-" Rachel is cut off by Quinn standing up abruptly. "Just... just shut up, Berry,' Quinn snarls."Why won't you just leave me the hell alone like everyone else has, huh? Why can't you just let me be? Stop following me around trying to make me feel better!"
She stalks off. Rachel follows her persistently, talking the whole while. "I'm not going to leave you alone in your emotional state of mind, Quinn. And I'm not trying to make you feel better. I just speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It's not entirely your fault that you slept with Noah. You have to stop trying to make Finn something he's not, that is, some innocent guy who's the victim." Quinn whirls and pokes Rachel in the shoulder, effectively halting her. "You don't know what you're talking about, Berry." She removes her hand and turns her head, not walking off, but not staring directly at the brunette either. "What Finn did that night... It was my fault. I had an argument with him before we went to the party because he wanted to kiss me but I just didn't want to. Then he started drinking and went off to flirt with some random girl. And I knew he didn't really want to do it. He was just...being a guy." Quinn sighed. "And after that, when he brought her to his car, I just... I got fed up and started drinking. Puck and I...we started fooling around and it just happened. He was being nice, you know? For once, he was being a sort of gentlemen and after what Finn did, I just wanted to be a bitch and get back at him. Funny how that turned out, huh?" She lets out a mirthless laugh. "I could have stopped myself, Berry, and that's why it's my fault. I knew exactly what I was doing."
"So did Finn,' Rachel states brusquely. Quinn glances at the girl. "He knew exactly what he was doing as well. He knew he wasn't going to get lucky with you, so he got lucky with some other girl. Honestly, Quinn, if it didn't happen then, it would have happened some other time. He's just a horny boy, like millions of others, looking for a girl willing to drop her pants for him. He didn't have to sleep with that girl. If he was serious about your relationship, he wouldn't have cared that you didn't want to sleep with him. Admittedly, sleeping with Noah wasn't your best idea, but I can't really blame you. And no one else wou-" Yet again, Rachel was cut off. This had never happened so many times in one day before! "Okay, okay, Berry. I get it. It's not my fault. Jeez." Quinn rolls her eyes. This conversation is getting way too personal. She slyly changes the subject. "Besides that, aren't you the one who's supposed to be defending Finn?" Rachel's eyes dart around the park, suddenly finding the fallen leaves of the tree fascinating. "Perhaps I got over my infatuation a little when I realized how much of an idiot Finn was. He threatened to leave glee club if Mr. Schuester didn't kick you and Noah off. I simply can't be with a person who values their pride so highly while leaving their teammates in the ditch. Also, I consider that sabotage of my stardom.' she admits reluctantly.
Quinn, surprisingly, doesn't say anything. She just nods. All she wanted to do was get the topic off herself, but Rachel Berry has opened up a far more interesting topic. She wasn't so out of it that she hadn't noticed the ambiguity in Rachel saying 'person'. Eager to stay far, far away from the previous topic of whether or not she was guilty, she attacks this point. "With a person, Berry? Tell me, is the great Rachel Berry not-so-straight?" She doesn't ask with malice, but with an almost teasing tone of voice. It wasn't like she had anything better to do. Watching the other girl squirm herself out of this one was going to be hilarious. Rachel flushes visibly under her tanned skin and turns away so that Quinn is looking at her side. "Perhaps,' she mutters, 'Why? Does it matter? Is this more gossip for you to spread? More ideas for pictures on the bathroom walls?" She turns defensive. Yet another prime example of why she should have taped her mouth shut before coming out to look for Quinn Fabray. She just handed the blonde more material to torture her with. But Quinn just shrugs and says, "Not really actually. I was just teasing you. You don't need to get all defensive. It's not like I'm going to start spreading stuff about you anymore; what's the point?" Quinn starts walking again, but not fast. She just wanders down the path slowly, admiring the sights. Rachel is
left with her mouth wide open, stunned by the revelation. Then she briskly walks after the other girl. "Do you care? Are you disgusted that I'm bisexual?" she blurts out once she has caught up with the other girl. "I probably should be, what with my upbringing, but honestly, I'm not. I don't even care that your dads are gay, really. I mean, in this day and age, being homophobic is frankly, quite stupid." Quinn finally turns to look at Rachel. "Kurt's gay, he's got a fantastic fashion sense, and you could take a couple of tips from him but he's fun. My boss in the future could be gay. Hell, Brittany and Santana are my best friends, and they're so gay for each other that it's hilarious how no one else seems to notice. So no, I'm not disgusted that you're bisexual. I wouldn't be disgusted if you were just gay. I might have been, if I'd known a few months ago, but now I can't bring myself to care. As long as you don't try to flirt with me, I'll be fine." Rachel Berry tries to process all of this information. First, Quinn speaking to her nicely. Next, Quinn figuring out she was bisexual. Now, Quinn not caring she was bisexual. She was right. The world was going insane. Quinn was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "Er. Okay, I suppose. So, what do we do now?" Rachel is aware that Quinn had asked her this question earlier.
Quinn smirks faintly. "Well, before you turned up, I was going to see if I could find a drug dealer in the park because I know I've seen one around here somewhere before and get myself something to get me high, but since you're here, I suppose I'll just have to settle for breakfast. I missed it this morning and I'm hungry." Rachel squints at Quinn. This playful side of her is new and strange. "Are you inviting me to go to breakfast with you?" "If you must," Quinn throws her hands into the air, before gracefully spinning around and walking in the general direction of her car. Rachel can't help breaking into a satisfied grin before following her. Okay, so the song title is kind of obvious. The song itself is kind of depressing and sad and stuff, but I just took the meaning and said buh-bye to the sad. So, lots of truth in this chapter. It all just spills out faster than the Niagara Falls spits out water. Finn = cheater too? I'm terribly mean. And Rachel Berry, bisexual? Gah! Quinn Fabray being sort of nice? What? You'll understand why next chapter. It's frankly quite amazing how I can go to an angsty chapter into an ending like that, but I actually kind of like it. It's actually kind of fun writing fluff. I had no idea!
Thanks for all your reviews and subscriptions to story alert, author alert, favourite story etc. You guys are all awesome. Feel free to message me or drop me a review if there's every anything you think doesn't quite make sense. I'd be happy to explain myself in the message or edit my story if it's my mistake. Also, I reread the last chapter and found a few errors, so if you guys see any in this chapter, do tell me, 'cause I know you guys and gals all have way better eyesight than I do. And because all of you are amazing, I will try to update at least once a week. I can't give you more than that. Forcing material just results in shitty chapters. Reviews = Love, so spread the love! To err is human, to forgive is divine, and to love? Magical. The front part I don't own, the second, I think I heard it somewhere else other than myself before, so you can call me absolutely unoriginal. Basically, review. =) Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter. Also, this is again, continued from the last chapter. I'm long winded; bite me. It's only been one day, but it's been spread over 3 chapters. Tsk.
Walking to her car, Quinn Fabray thinks back on the day's events. There were a lot of firsts. First time getting slushied, going nuts on Dave Karofsky,(which was actually kind of fun), having a civil conversation with Rachel Berry, skipping school, having an almost amusing conversation with Rachel Berry, and now, apparently, going to breakfast with Rachel Berry. She wonders if she's just dreaming, and her alarm is about to go off, but dismisses the thought. Ridiculous. Obviously, she has been reading too many sciencefiction novels. At any rate, dreaming about going to breakfast with Rachel Berry would simply be a nightmare. Unfortunately, reality is usually a lot worse than the imagination can imagine. Thus, she is now... going to breakfast with Rachel Berry. A bisexual Rachel Berry, nonetheless. Plus, she'd practically invited the girl herself. Quinn groans inwardly. The pregnancy hormones were screwing with her personality, her brain, and her...everything! They were screwing her up. Would the Quinn Fabray of.. oh, just five days ago, have done everything she just did before nine in the morning? The answer is a simple 'No'. A small grimace appears on Quinn's face when she thinks about what could possibly happen in another 12 hours. Her brain was utterly fried. Rachel Berry talking without breathing wasn't helping at all, but she made a mild attempt to listen. She caught every 5 words or so, which was
probably good enough. She pieced together that the girl was talking about a new song she planned to 'suggest' Mr. Schuester use for Sectionals. She was saying something about Avril Lavigne. Surprise, surprise, she was talking about singing. Gosh. The girl needed a new hobby. With the short brunette rambling about how they should really just "go to Sectionals with the songs from Wicked as our theme, because the judges love show tunes, and of course, the songs themselves were simply amazing in meaning and composition, plus, if you base your performance on a theme, you can really perform instead of just singing and dancing all over the stage, like Vocal Adrenaline do, albeit singing badly," the walk to the car seemed painfully long. For a short, sweet moment, Quinn Fabray considers telling the other girl to follow her in her own car, and then trying to lose her in the streets, but throws the idea away. First of all, Rachel Berry would probably somehow manage to track her down and then give her a long lecture about not driving recklessly, and secondly, it was actually nice to have someone there with her who didn't look at her like she was a fragile piece of glass, or a diseased piece of meat every few seconds. Even if that someone happened to be one annoying Rachel Berry. And lastly, she was too polite. It was how she was raised. True, her parents were crap, but they did teach her manners and social skills. That was the only
reason she opened the passenger door for Rachel Berry before going to the driver's side. "I'll take you back here for your car later." The brunette nods and gets in. Before Quinn has even buckled herself in however, the brunette is already sticking her iPod in the iPod dock on the dashboard. Unsurprisingly, she scrolls until she finds the playlist called...Broadway. Quinn Fabray rolls her eyes, but starts the car and doesn't say anything. "I do hope you don't mind. I mean, I do have over 6,000 songs on my iPod, and if you would prefer not to listen to show tunes, I'm fairly sure I would have the songs you do want to listen to, because as much as I think pop songs are endlessly repetitive, most of them with no meaning, I do own them, because it's good to keep up with-" Rachel snaps her mouth shut when Quinn abruptly swerves into the next turning and honks the horn long and loudly at an oncoming Porsche which really should have been on the other side of the road. The other car swerves into its proper lane, but not before the man can give Quinn the finger. Quinn mutters something that sounds vaguely like "Asshole munchkin douche bag," before she brakes hard and shifts into 'Park' in front of a small diner called "Patty and Man's Place". Rachel's heart is beating fast. She gasps, "Um, perhaps I could drive us back, after breakfast?" Quinn lets out a slightly evil laugh and turns to face Rachel, a sly look on her face. She pats her car's dashboard.
"There's no way you're touching my baby, Berry. Deal with it." Quinn smirks and gets out of the car before the other girl can respond. Mildly annoyed, Rachel quickly jumps out of the car and walks to the diner, where Quinn is impatiently holding the door open. When she passes the blonde, she raises and eyebrow and says, "Which baby were you referring to?" before swiftly but gently poking Quinn in the middle of her stomach daringly. Quinn Fabray's eyes narrow into slits, and she wonders whether Rachel Berry will still be alive when she brings her back to park, but 'Patty' is already ushering the two girls into a booth somewhere at the back of the restaurant. Only a few tables are occupied, because most people are already at work or at school. 'Patty', whose real name is actually Phoebe, is Quinn's cousin. She was disowned at the age of 17 when her parents found out she was gay. She probably would not have been disowned if it wasn't for Quinn's parents urging Phoebe's parents to 'keep the good name of Fabray good'. Because of that, Quinn feels guilty and comes often to the small and cramped diner for breakfast. Phoebe had opened the diner with her girlfriend, who happened to be 6 years older than her and had accepting parents who helped with the payment on the diner. The food was diner food, and Quinn probably would have been shot by both her parents and Sue Sylvester if they knew she was a regular
there, but she can't help herself. Phoebe's girlfriend, Amanda, was an amazing fry-cook. Her pancakes were fluffy and light and tasted like heaven. Her bacon was always done just crispy enough and her French toast was magical. Quinn usually came when she felt like splurging, and she was well pampered by her cousin, who was now 23. As Rachel and Quinn sat on opposite benches, Phoebe leans close to Quinn's ear and says, "Check the ice (i), little cuz. Nice." Quinn rolls her eyes and murmurs back, "Do you want me to tell Amanda you said that? Cause I can so totally walk in there and tell her, right now," with a raised eyebrow. It was always easier to be herself when she was with Phoebe because the other girl was just so...free. Like now, Phoebe just laughs and backs away. Rachel stares uncomprehendingly. "Rachel, Phoebe. Phoebe, Rachel,' Quinn waves her hand around carelessly. "Phoebe's my gay, disowned cousin, and Rachel's a school mate." "And fellow glee-clubber,' Rachel adds. "And fellow glee-clubber,' Quinn concedes, rolling her eyes for the hundredth time that day. She ignores the strange look Rachel gives her, not wanting to talk about her cousin in front of her, and instead turns to Phoebe, who is already holding a notebook and a pen. "Did Amanda make any of her amazing Eve's with a lid on?" Quinn asks, not bothering to pick up the
menu. Phoebe shakes her head and says, "That was yesterday. You've got bad timing." Quinn sighs and replies softly, "I know." It's awkward for a while, and then Rachel suddenly asks, "What on earth is an 'Eve with a lid on (ii)'? "Apple pie," Quinn and Phoebe say at the same time, which is a little disconcerting, because they both have blonde hair and delicate features, and they both turn to her at the same time. Rachel blinks and uncertainly says, "Okay,' then she turns back to the menu. Quinn purses her lips and sighs. "Okay, gimme a blonde with sand, a stack of Vermont with Z and put a hat on it. Also, a side of Joan of Arc with side arms, and clean up the kitchen. I'm starving. And hey, you know what, while you're at it, flop two with haemorrhage." Rachel looks extremely taken aback at all the diner lingo, so Phoebe translates while repeating the order. "Coffee with cream and sugar, pancakes with mushrooms and ice-cream, French fries with salt and pepper, a plate of hash, and two fried eggs, over easy, with ketchup." Quinn smirks. "Is that not what I said?" Phoebe smirks back at her cousin, and says, "Stop showing off. Knowing so much diner lingo cannot be good for you, unless you're planning to get a job here." She turns to Rachel. "What'll you have, sweetheart?" Rachel frowns and looks up at Phoebe before bluntly asking, "What's good?"
Phoebe laughs while Quinn lets out a short chuckle. "Everything, babe. Everything is cooked to absolute perfection by my lovely wife in the kitchen. Just gimme your order and even if you ask for Thai food, that's what's gonna come outta the kitchen." Phoebe winks at Rachel, who blushes and looks down at the table. "Well then, could I get scrambled eggs with mushrooms and a side of hash browns with cheese, please? And a strawberry milkshake?" Rachel smiles shyly at the tall waitress, who grins back. "Sure. Comin' right up. First class treatment for my cousin's girlfriend." While Rachel flushes bright red, Quinn reaches up and flicks her cousin on the head. "Just because you happen to be gay, doesn't make the rest of us Fabray's gay. Go and cook, woman." Phoebe laughs uproariously and walks into the kitchen. Rachel awkwardly fiddles with the napkin in front of her, folding it into a few random shapes again and again. "So, you have a gay cousin? I had no idea." Quinn lets out a decidedly unladylike snort. The smell of frying food is going to her head. "You want the whole story, Berry? Okay, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen and shut up. After today, you will never speak of this again. Understand?" She waits for a quick nod from the brunette, then continues.
"Of course you had no idea. She got married and took her wife's last name, so nobody knows her as Fabray anymore. Obviously, I don't go around advertising the fact that I have a gay cousin, and my family doesn't ever talk about her. It's like she doesn't exist, even though she lives 15 minutes away and owns a successful diner. Most people who know about this place avoid it, because it's 'run by lesbian scum'," She unconsciously clenches her fist and frowns, but keeps talking. "But the open-minded people are regulars and that keeps this place running just fine. I feel sorry for the bigots; they don't know what they're missing." Rachel looks thoughtful and cocks her head. "She looks a lot like you." Quinn shrugs. "I look like my mom, and she looks like her mom. They're twins, actually, which probably explains a lot. But, at any rate, no one I know has ever seen us together, so no one's managed to put the pieces together either. It doesn't matter. She was disowned when I was just 10 years old, but even then I knew what was going on." Bitterly, she says, "It was my parents in the background of her life who convinced her parents to chuck her out." There was a distant look in her eyes, a look of utter disappointment on her face. "It was pretty bad. I mean, she's 7 years older than me, but she always treated me like a friend instead of an annoying cousin. I missed her then, and all my
parents kept telling me was how she was a bad influence and she was gone now. But she sent me a message, telling me where to find her if I ever wanted to." Quinn shrugs and smiles a little. "Since then, I've been coming here at least once every two weeks. It's a place I come to that nobody knows aboutiii. It's fun when the diner is emptier, because then Amanda comes out and she's hilarious." Rachel can't help the wide smirk spreading across her face. "What?" Quinn asks defensively. "Oh, nothing. It's just that that was the longest thing you've ever said to me that lacked any insult in it. Also, you talk about her like you genuinely like her. It surprises me that the one person you seem to genuinely like happens to be gay." Quinn squints at Rachel, and probably would have said something she later would have regretted, but the drinks are here, and the smell of coffee is something she can't resist. "Thanks,' she says, smiling at her cousin, who sets the coffee down in front of her and the milkshake in front of Rachel. "Really, Berry? A strawberry milkshake?" Quinn raises an eyebrow at the other girl, who blushes. "It's a healthy, nutritious drink that just so happens to be delicious at the same time," she informs Quinn unwaveringly. Phoebe slides into Quinn's seat, forcing her to move over so that she is next to the wall. She grins at her younger cousin, bumps her on the shoulder and says,
"This one's a keeper." "Argghh! Stop saying that! We're not together! God, Pheebs, can't you just bring me food like a normal waitress instead of embarrassing the hell out of me all the time?" Quinn complains, but she's working hard to suppress a smile and can't help bumping back. Phoebe tuts and smugly replies, "Ah, but I'm not a normal waitress. I happen to be your older cousin, and this happens to be my job. Embarrassing you, I mean, not bringing you food. You know where the kitchen is; you can get your own damn food." She ruffles Quinn's hair and gets up before the other girl can retaliate. "But, however, because I feel sorry for your pregnant ass, I'll get you your food." And sure enough, as she walks to the kitchen, two quick rings ring out from a desk bell from the kitchen. Rachel looks up from her milkshake and flashes a quick look at Phoebe's retreating figure. "She's hot," she whispers to Quinn, unembarrassed in the least. Quinn grimaces. "That's disgusting, Berry. She's my cousin. Plus, she's married. And, you said she looks like me, so that's just way weird." Rachel smiles impishly. "She looks like an older, more mature, nicer version of you, not you. And I never said anything about doing anything. I can look, can't I?" And after that it's awkward, because Phoebe comes
up behind Rachel as she's speaking her last sentence and she can't help her laughter. Rachel flushes bright red, but Phoebe just sets the numerous plates down and says, still chuckling, "Yeah, you can look. Just you though, and it's only 'cause I know you're seeing Quinn instead of me. Hah!" This just makes Rachel flush deeper and bury her face in her hands. Quinn rests a hand on her forehead and mutters, "I swear to God, the percentage of gay in the air of this small little diner is going to suffocate me. My dear annoying cousin, if you ever lose your cook, there will no longer be a reason to come in here again, because lord knows I don't come in here because of the stimulating conversation." Phoebe grins widely and says loudly, "Oh, but she won't quit. She knows she totally won't get laid if she does." She practically hollers the last sentence in the general direction of the kitchen. A tinkling laugh emanates from the kitchen, and the other patrons stare, but they smile and go back to what they were doing, because they all know and like Phoebe. Rachel, on the other hand, has blushed so hard the tips of her ears are red, her face is still covered and she is hunched into the seat. Exasperated, Quinn flings her hands into the air and gives her cousin a pointed glare. The look said, back off right now. As much as I love you and am related to you, I will so stick this fork into your right eyeball. Also, stop implying I'm gay. So that wasn't actually what the look managed to convey, but that was what
Quinn Fabray was thinking, and Phoebe, familiar with her facial expressions, smirks but did indeed back off. When she is on the other side of the diner, smiling and talking to another customer, Quinn starts cutting her pancakes up into perfectly square, one inch by one inch pieces. The clink of cutlery makes the girl sitting opposite her put her hands down, revealing a very red-faced Rachel Berry, who nervously takes a sip of her drink. Quinn ignores her, meticulously spreading her vanilla ice cream over her pancake before spearing each piece and almost moaning in ecstasy as the hot and cold treat hit her tongue. The stupid pregnancy hormones were making her food cravings shoot up and hit the bell that signalled insanity. She pokes a mushroom that's cooked to perfection and pops it into her mouth after she's done with her mouthful of pancakes. She can't help closing her eyes. She feels better than she has all day. And it's only nine thirty. When she opens them, she realizes that Rachel is staring at her incredulously. "What?" she can't help snapping. It was rude to stare at people who were eating. She is about to tell the girl this, but Rachel just giggles and points to her pancakes. "You're analretentive. And I've never seen anyone eat anything with such...concentration." Quinn frowns, but glances down at her (now sliced up) pancakes before looking back at the girl. "I am not. Plenty of people eat like
me. And I'm just hungry. Eat your own damn mushrooms and we'll see whether you faint with enjoyment." And then she goes back to her food, but actively keeps her eyes from rolling back into her head from bliss this time. She hears a short laugh from the other girl, but can see from the corner of her eyes that she does pick up her knife and fork and start cutting her own food up. "That was extremely embarrassing and I trust you won't mention that ever again," Rachel states, while holding up a forkful of scrambled eggs mixed with Tabasco sauce. "That's disgusting,' Quinn slowly says, pointing at the eggs with her fork, "And of course I'll mention this again. I can't believe you just did that with my cousin. Don't say I didn't warn you, though, because I did tell you to stop talking about it." "You didn't tell me to stop talking about it. You told me it was disgusting, like how you're saying scrambled eggs with Tabasco is disgusting, although both are rather good once you've tried them," Rachel waggles her eyebrows suggestively. Quinn doesn't miss the innuendo, and she nearly spits her food out. Instead, she forces a swallow before taking a long drink of coffee. She gestures at the only waitress other than her cousin for a refill before staring hard at Rachel. "That was a poorly disguised
innuendo, Berry. I can't believe you just talked about Pheebs like that." Quinn shudders and continues, "If you ever do that again, I won't hesitate to throw up over you. Morning sickness combined utter disgust can be a very potent combination. Now, if you'd kindly allow me to eat my food in peace..?" Quinn sarcastically asks. Rachel shrugs and starts on her scrambled eggs. There is almost two minutes of silence, during which Quinn polishes off her pancakes and starts on her eggs. "How could you even say that without batting an eyelash and then go completely red when you're confronted by the subject of your desire?" Quinn asks abruptly. Rachel looks taken-aback when Quinn says 'subject of desire', but doesn't correct her. In less than a second, however, she has her comeback. "How can you talk to me so terribly in school and talk to me so casually now?" The moment she says it, she wishes she didn't. The conversation is so obviously over. It's completely unfair and really, she didn't want the conversation to end so rudely. Talking to Quinn almost as though she was a friend was a fascinating experience. Not having insults thrown at you every other second was just a plus. On the other hand, she quite desperately wants an answer to her question. She's wanted an answer to that question since she sat down next to Quinn at the park. For a while, there is silence again, but eventually,
Quinn Fabray looks up and stares Rachel Berry in the eyes. Her hazel eyes are deep and unreadable, and her face betrays nothing. Rachel just smiles weakly and turns her gaze onto her hash browns. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that," she mutters softly. Quinn sets her cutlery down slowly on her place, the fork useful-side down. She dabs at her mouth with a napkin and sets that down too. She folds her hands in her lap and sighs. "No, I do. You're right. I treat you like crap. I've treated you like crap for years. But for years, I've only thought of you as Man-Hands. Treasure Trail. Stubbles. Annoying gnome. I thought of a lot of people like that. But, then, last night, I got your e-mail. And I know that I didn't reply, but it made me realize that you were a lot more human than I ever gave you credit for. And maybe a lot of people were too. What happened with that blog post last night was that it made me realize that you might be the only person who cares. And maybe, this morning, when I saw you, I thought of you as Rachel Berry, instead of Rupaul. And maybe, that's why I'm talking to you like you're Rachel Berry, and not someone I despise. And maybe because it's nice to just be sitting her with someone and not having to think of my baby or my revoked social status. Maybe it's just nice to sit here with a fr... another person." Rachel Berry is shocked. She would have sworn she saw Quinn Fabray's lips form the word 'friend' before saying 'another person'. So, they both wanted to be
friends, huh? Well, as weird as that sounded, (Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry, seriously?), Rachel had never been one to back away from a challenge. If she was honest with herself, (and she was. Painfully honest. All the time), she had to admit that to having the blonde as a friend would be great. Having her as a friend before her downfall and before her own being-slushied days started would have been even better, but Rachel took what she could get. "Say that last sentence again. Say what you really meant to say," she demands, but not in a too demanding way, because that would have put the blonde off. Quinn shrugs and stares out the window. The sun streams in casts rainbows over the salt and pepper shakers. She opens her mouth, but can't get the words out. It shouldn't have been that hard to admit that she wanted a friend, even to Rachel Berry, but damn if her pride won't let her. Stupid Fabray genes. "Quinn, c'mon. Just say it. Love makes the world go round. Not that I love you, but you know what I mean. Just say it." Rachel prods. At this, Quinn can't help but quirk and eyebrow and look at Rachel like she was crazy. "What makes you think there's anything I want to say that I haven't already said, Berry?"
And then Rachel is bored of this game, because, really, must they waste time being 'sworn enemies' when all the both of them really wanted was to be 'sort-of-maybe-friends'? Also, the smell of her hash browns is started to inch up her nostrils and put her smell receptors into overdrive. Quinn was right. The fry-cook was a goddess. Before she started drooling, she manages to say, in a mildly annoyed tone, "Oh, come off it, Quinn. Look, if you want to be my friend, you'll have to stop calling me Berry. You can call me Rachel, but not Rach, and definitely not Rachie. You can sometimes call me Berry, but only in jest. I will no longer acknowledge you if you call me by anything that refers to me as a male or a drag queen. I am past that, and so are you. Okay?" Quinn's only response is to widen her eyes, but she doesn't say anything, so Rachel takes it that the blonde doesn't actually disagree. "Okay, then, that's great. And I have to agree that Amanda is an amazing cook. I'll have to meet her sometime." Rachel says cheerfully, before inhaling half of her hash browns in seconds. Bemused, Quinn goes back to meticulously cutting up her food. Her fries are each cut in half and dipped in ketchup and eaten. Her hash is pushed into neat little piles and eaten. Her eggs are cut up and delicately chewed and swallowed. She doesn't say a word, but neither does she back away to a different table. Rachel takes this as a good sign.
When they have both finished eating, Rachel points out that Quinn's plate is almost sparklingly clean. "They won't even have to put it through the dishwasher. You're anal-retentive, Quinn, and extremely so." And when Quinn casts an annoyed look at her, Rachel is almost afraid she has gone too far, assumed too much, and said the wrong thing, but then Quinn says, "I was hungry, okay? I only eat like a regular human being once every fortnight. For the other 13 days, all I drink are fresh lemons, grade B maple syrup and cayenne pepper and water. Blended together. It's not fun. And you better not say a word about this place, because if Sue Sylvester finds out that I cheated on her regime, she'll murder me, especially when I tell her I'm quitting. "You're quitting the Cheerios?" Rachel sounds surprised. "Of course I'm quitting the Cheerios. There is no way I'm helping Sue Sylvester win Nationals after what she did to me. It's payback time," Quinn declares almost sadistically. "Well, personally I think it's a great idea. Not that I feel particularly vindictive towards Sue, even though I believe that she once tried to 'accidentally' push me over the bleachers and kill me, but because cheerleading can't be safe, especially now that you're pregnant. What if you get thrown off the pyramid?
That stuff you drink can't be good for the baby either. And of course, leaving cheerleading will give you more time for glee club, and I'd be glad to help with your voice, because you are-" "On occasion sharp, I know, you've said." Quinn sounds mocking, but there is a slight smile on her face. It's surprisingly easy to be friends with Rachel. You just let her talk and talk and eventually you can't help but laugh at her lack of tact. "But what makes you think I'm staying in glee club? All that dancing around- I could fall and break my neck. Or Finn would wring my neck. Either way, I kind of like my neck where it is, so who knows, maybe I won't even stay in glee." And then Rachel is hyperventilating and growing pale and reaching across to grab Quinn's wrists. "You can't quit glee club, Quinn! We need you! And dancing isn't that strenuous, as long as you're careful, and I swear I'll keep Finn's hands off your neck and-" She breaks off, because she finally notices that Quinn has pulled her hands away and is laughing gaily. She slumps back into her seat, relieved and amused, but trying her best to look irritated. "That's not funny, Quinn,' and she's pouting, but it just makes Quinn laugh even harder. Rachel rolls her eyes at the hormonal pregnant girl, because it wasn't that funny at all, so it must have been her hormones. She signs for the check while the blonde is still gasping for air, and
by the time the check comes, Quinn is breathing properly again, but a wide smirk is firmly planted her face. The smirk very clearly says 'Gullible'. They go Dutch, because paying for each other is just weird. As the waitress, a tall, lanky redhead reminiscent of Ginny Weasley takes their plates away, A medium height, raven-haired woman walks out of the kitchen, dragging Phoebe behind her. Amanda. She has breathtakingly long eyelashes and startling green eyes. She smiles at the two girls and introduces herself to Rachel in a British accent, because there is a glazed look in Phoebe's eyes and a dreamy, satisfied smile on her face and she doesn't look at all inclined to say a word. Quinn narrows her eyes at Phoebe and Amanda suspiciously, and then gapes in mortification. "Oh, god. You two did not. That's horrible. Please don't tell me you... Amanda! You can't do that! It's unhygienic! Don't shake her hand, Ber- Rachel!" she makes a wild grab for Rachel's hand before she can shake the grinning Brit's hand. Rachel merely looks confused. Amanda just grins widely and smugly says, "Hey, I didn't do it near food; it's fine." And then a look of understanding crossed over Rachel's face, and she blushed and put her hand down. Phoebe finally pulls herself out of her daze, but she is still smiling. "Well, I'm sorry I'm getting laid and you're not, little cuz. Okay, I'm not sorry, but, whatever. Shouldn't you be in school right now?"
And Quinn just shrugs and calmly says, "Shitty day. Can I go to your place till school's over?" Phoebe and Amanda look at each other, neither one of them approving of Quinn skipping school, but they know the girl is an Honours student and wouldn't skip except for a very good reason. And it was bad, but Amanda felt like they were getting back at Russell and Judy Fabray a little bit. She never forgave them for leading the decision to disown a daughter that was never their own, and she felt a guilty pleasure whenever Quinn walked into their diner, because she knew they wouldn't have approved of it. That was why she walked to the counter, grabbed her apartment keys from her bag and handed it to Quinn. "No parties, okay?" She teases. Quinn's lips twitch, and she stands up to give Amanda a quick hug, avoiding her hands, which makes Amanda laugh. "Hey, there's no way I'm touching the hands. I know where it's been." She makes a grimace. "And I'm not hugging you, Pheebs. I don't even wanna know. Ugh." And the married couple laughs, because Quinn can sometimes be so cute without her realizing it. She was like the younger sister they never had. Rachel smiles slightly. She'd never seen the girl so carefree. And she felt apprehensive that she never would again. How far did being friends with Quinn Fabray stretch anyway? Would the blonde just talk to her outside of school? Would she go back to ignoring her or insulting her in school? What a confusing
friendship. As she bid goodbye to Phoebe and Amanda, her brain just wouldn't shut down. Could she even call it a friendship? Was it really a friendship? True, Quinn had called her 'Rachel', but she hadn't actually said that they were actually friends. Why did she even want to be friends with the girl anyway? It wasn't that hard to find the answer. She'd had a taste of Quinn being sort of friendly, and to go back to Quinn treating her like crap would be really, really tough. Quinn was surprisingly, unintentionally... amusing to be with. She was like a pocket full of sunshine (iii), except the pocket very often had a hand stuffed down it, blocking the sunshine from being able to...shine. She almost smacked herself for the terrible metaphor. Lost in her thoughts, she tried to open the car door, but it was locked. She glanced up at Quinn, who was resting her arms on top of the car, her head on top of her forearm. Rachel raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you want to go back to school?" is Quinn's question. Rachel shifts uncomfortably. She didn't particularly want to impose on Quinn, but neither did she feel like going back to school. Mr. Schuester would wonder whether she had been slaughtered by the blonde, but a quick text message would take care of him. "Not
really. Would you mind if-" Quinn is already starting the car. Rachel sticks her head in through the window in confusion. "Get in the car, Rachel. I don't have all day." She got in the car. There is a strange smile on Quinn's face. Suddenly nervous, Rachel leans against the door. "Quinn, are you alright?" The locks click shut and Quinn revved the engine. It was surprisingly loud. "You should put your seatbelt on,' she said with a devilish smirk. Rachel did. And then she hung on for the most insane 10 minute car ride ever. So, another sappy-ish chapter. I realize that occasionally, I seem to be going too far in the progression of Faberry's relationship. I can't help myself. They're adorable together. Again, reviews are love, so spread the love. Like Rachel says: Love makes the world go round, and a flat earth is pretty damn boring. I appreciate you all adding me to your alerts and favourites, but reviews are infinitely better. Just a short one is fine, telling me what you think of the chapter/story, what you think of my writing… Just chuck everything you think onto the review; I won't bite, I swear. References
i Check the ice: Look at the pretty girl who just walked in ii Eve with a lid on: Apple pie. Refers to the biblical Eve's tempting Apple and to the crust that covers it. iii From Natasha Bedingfield's 'Pocket Full of Sunshine. I got the diner lingo from dinerlingo [dot] com and of course, Wikipedia. The title of the chapter is Pocket Full of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield. You can either think of Rachel thinking that Quinn's the PFoS, or Quinn thinking of the diner as the PFoS, or both. Personally, I agree with Rachel's viewpoint. Quinn Fabray/Dianna Agron is just absolutely adorably beautiful. Episode 17 was awesome. I'm just ranting crap now. I congratulate you for having read till here. Thanks! Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter. Quinn Fabray is a fantastic driver, really, she is. She drives, perhaps, like a lunatic, but they don't crash.
There were a lot of near misses, though. As in, four near collisions and 5 close scrapes against walls. Hard, strong, brick walls. It was a miracle no one called the cops on them, but Quinn stuck to roads where she knew the cops didn't bother with. That shows skill, but no one, not even her ex-boyfriends, and definitely not her mother, really seem to appreciate it. Essentially though, they were alive and well, though perhaps Rachel Berry had dropped a few pounds in Quinn's estimation of brawns, and perhaps her own eardrums were worn a little thin, but that was what happened when you tried to freak a soprano singer out by driving like someone who left a frozen pizza in the microwave. What happened was a lot of screaming. Imagine a normal person screaming at a tarantula on their foot, and then imagine that scream up an octave. Now, take that scream, multiply it by about 6, and then compress it into the small body of Rachel Berry. Yeah, Quinn Fabray's eardrums were completely blown. Absolutely worth it, though, Quinn told herself. Eventually, when she has parked the car outside the apartment, with some coaxing, Quinn manages to convince a traumatised Rachel Berry to put her hands down from her face and open the car door. As soon as she does, Rachel practically collapses on the ground and all but has sex with it. Quinn hears something that vaguely resembles, "I love you, I love
you, I love you, I swear on my Idina Menzel autographed CD that I will never let Quinn drive me again, I love you, I love you, I swear..." Quinn rolls her eyes and pulled the brunette up by a hand. "Please don't be a drama queen, Berry. As much as it suits you, it's kind of annoying. Hey, we're still alive, aren't we? Plus, it's my car, so you probably don't want to swear on what I suspect is your most prized possession." Rachel scowls and follows Quinn into the elevator. When the door is closed and Quinn has pressed the number '11', Rachel starts in on one of her famous rants. There's something about road safety rules being there for a reason, something about calling her by her first name, and something about trying to give people a heart attack. There was also a fairly lengthy bit about how even a cat would have would have lost all nine lives and died by the time she finished driving. It's all quite ridiculous, honestly. Basically ignoring the ranting Rachel, Quinn walks out of the elevator and down the hallway, quickly coming to a door marked '118'. Rachel Berry is still on her heels, still talking. Quinn suddenly regretted taking her with her. Definitely not one of her better ideas. Still, she was here now, so it was time to reveal the glory of her cousin and her cousin-in-law's apartment. Hopefully, and almost surely, even Rachel Berry would shut up after seeing it.
But, no, she squeals. The bloody short thing squeals right into Quinn's ear before leaping into the apartment. Goddamnit. Quinn sighs and gives up the inevitable. She just closes and locks the door before following Rachel into the apartment. It was rather something to squeal about, admittedly. A modern, very spacious apartment cleared of most decorative items, with neutral colour tones on the walls. There was a small, basic kitchen off the main room, a flat screen and a DVD played in the corner of the living room, but that wasn't the impressive thing about the apartment. Acoustic, electric and bass guitars line the walls. Fender's and Les Paul's in blacks, whites, reds, gold's... It's kind of insane. To the side are two keyboard pianos, one foldable, one on a stand, both Yamaha. A few mikes litter the place, as well as hazardously placed swivel chairs. An amp or two were against the wall, out of harms' way. Rachel stands in the middle of the room and just kept turning around. She mutters the names of the guitar brands out and then she reaches a hand out almost longingly, then snatches it back and turns around and around some more. After some time, her glazed eyes clear and she goes over to a low coffee table scattered with sheet music. She raises her eyebrows at a few that bore Phoebe and Amanda's names as composers.
Quinn leans against the wall and watches Rachel basically act like she was in heaven. It was vaguely amusing to watch, and besides, she didn't dare to go closer. Eventually though, she calms down enough to wave Quinn over. Cautiously, she walks over to Rachel, because her eardrums really were kind of sore. Luckily, the other girl was fairly stable. Unluckily, as soon as Quinn is near enough, she frantically waves a bunch of sheet music in front of her face, talking so fast that nobody could possibly have understood her without a translator. Quinn abruptly grabs Rachel by her shoulders, which was no mean feat, because the girl was suddenly bouncing on the spot. "Berry. Stop moving before I kill you." Rachel stops moving. "Okay, what do you want?" Quinn sighs. "Here! Look! It's their original music! Why have you not mentioned that they're in a band? And why did you not mention that they're the composers and lyricists? Quinn! This is huge!" And then Rachel is pointing forcefully at Phoebe and Amanda's names. Quinn looks taken-aback, then annoyed. "Why have I not mentioned this? Because before today, I have no reason to. Because you just met them less than an hour ago. Because we were coming here. Because
they're not huge. They're just a small band that occasionally plays at bars and stuff." "Quinn!' Rachel almost yelled, "A small band that occasionally plays at bars and stuff can't possibly afford this many Les Paul's, especially since they own a diner! Seriously, Quinn. Why haven't I heard of them before? I can't believe I had a band living 20 minutes away and I had no idea! This is impossible!" Oh, great, another rant, Quinn thinks. She hurriedly cuts the girl off. How much could a girl possibly rant in such a short amount of time anyway? It was like, a scientific miracle. "Okay, okay. Shut up and listen, alright? First, you have to stop going on sudden, random, annoying rants. They're annoying. Second, so, okay, fine, they're not a tiny band, but they're not international or anything like that. They're on iTunes and YouTube and MySpace and crap, so they get a little bit of recognition. But it's just a hobby of theirs that happened to be beneficial in the form of monetary compensation. That's what Amanda said, anyway." Quinn pauses for breath, and saw Rachel about to launch into... something else, again. She holds a finger up. "If you don't let me finish, I'm not bringing you here ever again." It's not really a lie, except for the fact that she doubted she would bring Rachel there ever again anyway, but it shuts her up. "And they're mostly
known in the, uh, LGBT community. I don't know if you spend a lot of time doing that stuff, but otherwise you wouldn't really have heard about them. It's not like they advertise their sexuality all over the place. This is Lima, Ohio." Quinn racks her brain for anything else that matters, but doesn't come up with anything. "Questions?" "Yes, actually. Why are there so many guitars? I understand maybe one or two of each type of guitar, but what's with the obsession? There are enough here to open a small shop. As you can probably tell, I'm insanely jealous. I've wanted a Les Paul since I was 8 months old, but my dads said I couldn't have one unless I actually learned to play it. They couldn't understand the reasoning behind not wanting calloused fingers yet still wanting a guitar to fawn over," Rachel says, nodding to herself, "so in the end, I didn't get a guitar. I did get ballet lessons, though." Quinn nods her head every time Rachel stops to breathe, which means she only needs to nod once and listen never. She walks over to the wall of guitars and gently picks up a white Les Paul bass guitar. "The obsession is Phoebe's. She buys guitars the way people buy handbags. This one is her favourite, because it's got some gay singer's signature on it. She's let me play it a grand total of once. After that, she spent half an hour cleaning it. Amanda lets her get away with the guitar craze because she doesn't obsess over anything else. Excluding herself, of
course." Quinn put the guitar back, being careful not to hit it against the wall or anything. "You play?" Rachel asks, baffled. "No way. The great cheerleader, the uber-straight girl plays bass guitar?" "You don't have to be gay to play bass, and you don't have to be straight to be a cheerleader. Case in point, San and Britt. You'd think the Cheerios were completely oblivious, but they're not. Locker room drama, see. You'd think the Cheerios might care, but they don't. They just think the two of them are a little bit more than friends, but nothing to worry about. Point is, yes, Berry, I play bass guitar. Get over it." With that, Quinn picks up a worn, black Fender bass and plugs it into an amplifier. Rachel watches in fascination and anticipation as Quinn slings the strap of the guitar over her shoulder and plays a few random chords. She perks up when Quinn played the familiar intro to one of her favourite songs. She comes in right on cue and doesn't miss Quinn's faint smirk. However, Quinn doesn't stop playing, and that's enough for her. The smell of your skin lingers On me now You're probably on your flight back
To your hometown I need some shelter My own protection, baby Be with myself in centre Clarity, peace, serenity She watches Quinn's fingers gracefully move over the strings, seemingly not touching them yet managing to produce a good sound. She doesn't miss the slight sheen forming in Quinn's eyes as she sings the first verse, even though the blonde turned to face out the balcony. She can't help but admire how Quinn manages to keep her emotions under control and keep playing the guitar, though she does miss a note there... I've got to get a move on with my life It's time to be a big girl now And big girls don't cry Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry... The path that I'm walking I must go alone (i)
She doesn't miss how Quinn's shoulders hunch over and how she stops playing suddenly. Rachel stops singing, letting her voice drag out the final note before allowing silence to take over the room. She desperately wants to go over to Quinn and hold her trembling shoulders, but her nerve leaves her and she just stars down at the tabletop, unusually shy. After a few minutes, Rachel softly calls out, "Quinn?" Visibly startled, Quinn whirls around. Her eyes are red, but otherwise she looks as composed as she usually does. For a while, they stare at each other, neither quite knowing what to do. In the back of her mind, Rachel can't help but notice how the light shining in from the balcony onto a hoodie-and-skinnyjeans-wearing Quinn Fabray holding a black bass guitar made the blonde look kind of like a punked up angel. It was the hair and the pale skin. For all that time the blonde spent in the sun, she never seemed to tan. It was a mystery. Quinn breaks the silence by saying impassively, "Yes, Berry, I play the bass guitar. Phoebe taught me but I haven't played in a while though. That was the only song I could remember. Happy?" Rachel half nods and half shrugs. If Quinn wanted to pretend nothing happened, fine. She played along. "You're actually quite good. And you... seem to enjoy it?" she ventures.
Quinn just calmly unplugs the guitar and puts it back where it was before saying emotionlessly, "I used to play a lot, until Phoebe got thrown out. Then they confiscated my bass, said Phoebe was a bad influence. After that, my parents started me on the piano, and then chucked that when I got into the Cheerios. Not that any of that matters, Berry," Quinn sits on the couch and stares out the glass doors of the balcony. She watches the clouds move slowly across the clear sky. "Quinn, please call me Rachel. It's just weird that I'm calling you by your given name and you're calling me by my family name. And it's also a little bit rude, because I've already told you twice. This is the third time, and if you refuse to honour my wishes after this time, I will no longer be responsible for my actions." It was meant as a joke, but Quinn scowls slightly and mutters, "I'll call you whatever I damn well want... Rachel." Pleased, Rachel beams and jumps out of her chair. "Thank you!" Quinn doesn't reply, but Rachel can see a twitch on her cheek. It's close enough to a smile for her. She stands there awkwardly for a moment, then determinedly marches over to Quinn and sits down next to her. They sit there in silence, but it's not as uncomfortable as it could have been.
However, Rachel is soon bored of the silence, and can't help her sudden lack of filter. She blurts out, "I find girls who play the bass guitar really sexy," then she clamps her mouth shut and slams her hands over it. Quinn feels mildly embarrassed and strangely gratified, but mostly she feels nostalgic. She fondly says, "Yeah, that's what Amanda thought too. She said before she met Phoebe, she'd always admired chicks who played bass. Her words, not mine. Then she got to know Phoebe and realized that while they looked cool standing in half-light near the back of the stage, off stage they were just as lame as everyone else. That got her into a tickle war with Pheebs. The two of them are so embarrassing to be around." Rachel smiles, because she can imagine that. Most first impressions couldn't be trusted, but she was pretty sure that her first impression of Phoebe and Amanda was spot on. They were cute together, and they seemed to really be in love. Rachel was envious of their relationship. She just couldn't imagine herself and Finn telling other people their 'cute' couple stories. The only thing she'd be able to say would be how Finn thought he got a girl pregnant without ever having sex with her. She doubted bringing that up would be a good idea. And the only thing Finn would be able to say about her that even vaguely resembled cute would be Rachel Berry in a cat suit. Now that would be embarrassing. Rachel is thankful that her
filter has returned and she hasn't said any of this out loud. Or has she? Quinn is looking at her in a really weird way. Oh no, she said it out loud, didn't she? "Said what out loud?" Quinn furrows her eyebrows. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you've been quiet for almost two minutes, and that kind of freaks me out." Rachel sighed in relief. "Nothing. Just thinking about...stuff." Quinn arches an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. They go back to glancing around the room and fidgeting in their seats. Rachel honestly can't help herself any longer. "Quinn?" The blonde turns to look at her. There is a resigned look in her eyes that say she knew what Rachel was going to ask and she didn't like it. Rachel tugs at the hem of her skirt and changes her mind. There was something else that needed to be said. "Listen, I understand we haven't exactly had what people would call a friendly relationship since forever," Quinn doesn't say anything, because it is true. "But, right now, what you need are friends. You might have Brittany and Santana, but you know that they are their own couple, and quite frankly, you'll be the third wheel that won't enjoy watching them make out. You might have glee club, but Finn and Puck will be there, and I think a lot of them don't consider you
the victim but the guilty. It will be very awkward. You're pregnant and emotional and somewhere inside you, you know that everything is going to blow up soon enough. Have you even told your parents yet?" Quinn's stony silence is enough for Rachel. "I'm not trying to push you or anything. Your private life is your own, but, as I said, what you are going to need are friends. And what I'm trying to say in this long neverending speech of mine is that I would like to be your friend. When I say friend, I mean the kind you can talk to in the hallways, the kind who can help you out without feeling like something doesn't make sense. I'm perfectly prepared to listen and hold you if you ever burst into emotional tears or hysterical anger. I will stand by you and I won't let Karofsky or Finn or anyone hurt you (ii), because I know what it's like to drip Slushie onto the hallway floor in front of 15 pairs of laughing eyes." Rachel takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the flush in her cheeks and the tears in her eyes. Quietly, she adds, "And maybe, if you want to, you could do the same for me." With that, her tears spill over. Her compact body shudders violently on the couch. She pulls her legs up and hug them tightly against her chest. Somewhere inside her mind, she scolds herself for being weak and for losing control of her emotions, but a bigger part of her was saying she damn well deserved a break to cry. The friendship she was offering to Quinn Fabray worked both ways. She wanted someone's
shoulder to lean on when people threw taunts and insults at her. She wanted someone to be able to talk to, to share experiences with. Rachel Berry wanted a friend. Was that so bad? No, it wasn't. She was a good singer, a good actress, and one day she would be famous. No matter what, she would be famous. But what use would fame be, if everyone she knew would shun her for her talent? What use would fame be, if she was going to be treated the exact same way the people in McKinley High treated her: like a piece of annoying gum stuck to their shoe. So she sobbed, because years of unrelenting bullying tended to hurt. Years of suppressing everything and pretending that everything was fine hurt. Years of not having a real friend? Yeah, that hurt like a bitch. So she sobbed. It was messy and embarrassing, and her voice in glee later would sound nasal and blocked, but the one good thing her sobbing brought to her? Quinn Fabray is holding her. True, her touch is hesitant and unsure, but she is holding her. Unfortunately, the warm arm around her back and the soft touch of a tissue on her face just makes her cry even harder. Eventually, Quinn gives up trying to dry Rachel's tears and just holds her. She leans the girl back against herself and just hugs her from behind as the other girl's ragged breathing slowly calmed down.
When Rachel finally stopped crying, she pulls away from Quinn. She doesn't particularly want to, because Quinn's half-embrace is very comfortable and more than a little comforting, but she has tear-streaks and snot all over her face, and she still has her pride, so she pulls away. Quinn lets her go and watches as Rachel carefully wipes her face clean with some baby wipes on the low coffee table. She is suddenly grateful that Amanda has these issues with using 'stupid, boring tissue paper'. She watches as the brunette takes a long, shuddering breath. She watches as her posture tenses and she sits up ramrod straight, leaning slightly away from the back of the couch. She watches as Rachel closes her eyes, (her red, puffy eyes), and when she opens them, they are clear of emotion. "Okay," Quinn says softly. "I'll be your friend." She quickly regrets it, because this just makes the brunette break down all over again. After Rachel finally, finally, calms down, she sets some ground rules. Typical. Her rules are no more Slushies and no more insults. Also, no more lies. If it turned out that the baby was actually Mike's, she would "slaughter" her new friend. She suggested that Quinn no longer call her Berry, but that got them into a long argument, a lot of huffing from Rachel and a lot
of eye-rolling from Quinn, so it got thrown out. Quinn makes Rachel swear to no more squealing, no more Vitamin D and no more unnecessary diva fits, unless Mr. Schuester tried to get them to sing a disco song. They agree that all these rules will probably get thrown out, because they aren't all that great at following the rules, and if Rachel followed her rules, she wouldn't be Rachel. Still, it kills time, and neither quite know what to do if they just sit there in empty silence. Slowly, they warm up to talking about things other than school and glee. They turn on the TV and see Justin Bieber trying to get with a girl that looks 5 years older than himself. Rachel admits to thinking he's an ironically cute girl. Quinn smacks her around the head and Rachel agrees that she deserved it. But then Quinn sings along to Britney Spears' 'If U Seek Amy' without getting the not-so-subtle "Fuck me" reference and Rachel laughs till she cries, then she tells Quinn, who pales and get a mildly horrified look on her face, which makes Rachel howl. They watch Lady Gaga's 'Telephone' video and both agree that Lady Gaga is a genius, even if she is a little bit crazy. Quinn gets tickled when she swoons over Edward Cullen, but she returns the favour when Rachel practically salivates over Olivia Wilde. They discover a mutual love of 'Alias', and agree that after a few seasons, no TV series made sense anyway.
They realize that books are a good topic, because although Rachel reads a stupidly large amount of Broadway stars' biographies, she reads a lot of 'normal' books too. Quinn wholeheartedly agrees with Rachel over Pride and Prejudice's insane level of mundanity, and they get into an argument over which Twilight book is the worst. Quinn points out that Rachel is kind of like Hermione Granger, and rolls her eyes when Rachel mutters, "Hermione Granger is hot." The non-sequiturs don't disrupt their conversation, and in fact make conversation a lot more interesting. But when they notice that it is almost time to go back for glee club, they grow silent. Rachel starts to fidget in her seat and Quinn just kind of hovers at the kitchen table. "So," she says quietly. "So." "Shall we?" "Yeah. I guess so." They walk into school together, but with a gap between them, because the people who haven't left look at them weirdly. But the people don't say anything, because Quinn's outburst went viral and not even the retards haven't seen it. They don't want to be next. Karofsky snarls at her, but keeps his
distance. Jacob Ben Israel just walks past her, shirt smelling of Slushie and face red. He has a story to work on. It's all quite tame, really, compared to what will come. Quinn gets tenser as she nears the door of glee's practice room. Rachel almost crashes into her when she stops suddenly in front of the door. She slowly reaches a hand out and opens it dramatically. Might as well get it over with. Plus, Rachel's Rachelisms must have been rubbing off on her. Opening doors dramatically? Please. Still, they were early, and there are only a few glee clubbers in there. Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie were huddled together in the front row, excitedly discussing something. Quinn suspects herself as the topic of interest. Brittany and Santana are sitting behind them, listening, but pretending to be bored. Matt and Mike and throwing a football at each other in the small room, trying not to break anything. Finn and Puck are nowhere to be seen. Quinn walks in quietly and unnoticed, despite the dramatic door opening. No one bothered to look, because they assumed it was Rachel. She slips past Mike, who gives her a thumbs up before getting hit in the head by the football. She weakly returns the gesture. Quinn slips into a seat behind Santana, who smirks at her. Brittany smiles and says a loud, "Hi, Quinn!" This makes the foursome (It's easier for
Quinn to refer to them that way. Saying Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie all the time made for a quite a mouthful) turn to her so fast she hears the crick of Tina's neck. They blush and shut up, which proves Quinn's theory that they were talking about her. How predictable. They gape when Rachel slips into the seat beside Quinn with only half a second's hesitation. Santana half scowls at Quinn in annoyance, but she doesn't pull it off as well as she used to, because Brittany liked Rachel, and Santana liked what Brittany liked. Even if she never would have admitted it. "Hi Brittany. Santana. Foursome," Quinn smirks, because, really, if they could have seen the fearful expression on their faces... Artie looks perturbed until he realized that 'foursome' referred to the 'four' of them. For a second, his teenage mind had gone... Never mind. Tina nervously stutters something that sounds like, "Hi, Quinn," or maybe she was just practising her breathing exercises. There wasn't much difference. Kurt and Mercedes, on the other hand, say "You go, girl!" at the exact same time. Quinn gives them a bemused smile. "You busting Karofsky's ass is all over the net, girl! You've already got over a thousand views. You're a celebrity. You know none of us got
Slushied today?" Mercedes gestures vaguely at the three of them and herself while the rest nod. Quinn just shrugs. Mercedes probably would have gone on, but Finn and Puck walk in right then, Mr. Schuester trailing behind them. That alone wouldn't have made everyone stop and stare at them, but the fact that Finn and Puck are punching each other in the shoulder and trying not to wince did. They stopped when they realized everyone was staring at them. "What?" Puck snapped in irritation. Finn grabbed his shoulder while Puck's attention was diverted and massaged it gently. Matt and Mike just shrugged and sat down, but Mercedes spoke up. As usual. "Well, we can't pretend that a couple hours ago the two of you didn't try to kill each other in Spanish, but hey, if Puckerman wants us to, no problem," she says sarcastically. Puck glares at her, but Finn just shrugs and says, "We're guys. We try to kill each other all the time." Everybody just looks at him like he's crazy, except for Puck and Mr. Schuester, who is busy with his bag. "Finn?" Quinn calls softly, "What... What just.." She doesn't even know what to say. Words fail her. Finn crosses the room and sit down beside her. He rubs his hands on his jeans and quietly says, "Look, I know it's weird, but, we're guys, Quinn. Sorry, but bros before hoes. I could either hate him for what he did, or
thank him, because as bad as this sounds, I couldn't have been a good dad.' Finn looks a bit embarrassed, but he keeps speaking. "And I know that makes me sound like a loser, but I'm only 16. So is Puck, but I thought it over and I'm kind of glad it's not me anymore. And yeah, I'm still kinda pissed you lied to me, and I probably won't really talk to you after this, but I don't.. I don't think I hate you." The last revelation shocks Quinn. "You don't?" is all she can say. "No, I don't. I mean, I think I don't. I'm not happy, and I wish you would've told me from the beginning and saved me from going a little crazy, but at least I knew before the baby came out like, Jewish or something." Finn is aware he sounds a little stupid, even for him, but Quinn hugs him tightly, so he just hugs back. She whispers that she's sorry into his ear, and he nods. They break away, and then Mr. Schuester claps his hands once, getting the attention of the entire group, all of whom were staring at Quinn and Finn's interaction. "Right, you guys! Since we're all here and we have all twelve members,' he says pointedly, and some scattered applause rings out, 'you can practice for Sectionals! Whoo!" Mr. Schuester is embarrassingly enthusiastic, but it breaks up the tension in the room. Rachel immediately steps up and suggests a new song they could sing while the foursome groan in
harmony. Finn's eyes start to glaze over, and Puck starts tossing the football around with Matt and Mike. Brittany and Santana whisper conspiratorially to each other. Quinn? She just leans back into her seat and allows herself a small smile. Really, it's just another day for the glee club. God, that sounded so... Rachel. Ugh. That was Quinn's last thought before she was interrupted by Mr. Schuester telling them to get up and practice 'Somebody to Love'. She smiled and got up. Quinn Fabray didn't trip and fall very often, almost never. She was quick on her feet, a natural dancer, and just graceful in general. That was why she didn't notice Finn's carelessly pushed aside chair, or that her foot had gotten tangled around the chair leg without her noticing. She didn't notice how everyone gasped. All she noticed was how one second she was staring at the piano and smiling, and the next, she was flying through the air and staring at nothing. Author's note OOF. Sudden ending. Cliffy. And I love you guys, but I had to do that. You'll just have to trust me. The chapter didn't quite turn out how I wanted it to, but my Sports Day was yesterday and I'm sunburned and exhausted and I just can't think properly right now. However, I needed to update this and I'm just praying
you guys like it too. I know it's a little abrupt. As usual, I love all your reviews. Each and every single one of them. I don't have a beta, so if you spot any mistakes, lemme know! Reviews are like Broadway. One good one and you're hooked. References EDIT: (i) I forgot to put this in the first time, but just in case you didn't know, the song is Big Girl's Don't Cry by Fergie. It's pretty sad and every time I hear it I think of Quinn. It seemed to fit. And I would imagine that Quinn relates to that song and it probably brings up a lot of emotions. I would love them if they put it in. PS: I still don't know where Quinn is living. (ii) I'll stand by you and I won't let anyone hurt you. Original sung by the Pretenders, and then Carrie Underwood sang it, and then Cory Monteith sang it. It refers to Rachel standing by Quinn and Quinn standing by Rachel. I'm aware it's kind of obvious. Bite me. Actually, no, don't. My skin is reserved for Quinn/Dianna/Rachel/Lea. As dumb as that sounds. Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.
Quinn Fabray didn't trip and fall very often, almost never. She was quick on her feet, a natural dancer, and just graceful in general. That was why she didn't notice Finn's carelessly pushed aside chair, or that her foot had gotten tangled around the chair leg without her noticing. She didn't notice how everyone gasped. All she noticed was how one second she was staring at the piano and smiling, and the next, she was flying through the air and staring at nothing. Quinn Fabray has had plenty of falls before. As talented a Cheerio as a person could be, a teammate who somehow forgets to catch you is still a teammate who has forgotten to catch you. Broken leg and two fingers. That wasn't fun at all. But at least she had been conscious. Flying through the air is only as glamorous as it sounds because no one talks about the landing. Quinn doesn't remember the landing either. A burst of pain and then she dropped out of reality. She remembers hearing snatches of frantic conversation. Someone that sounds like Rachel Berry is talking very fast about ice packs and ambulances. Some guy that sounds like Puck is saying something about hot towels(i), and as much of a daze as Quinn is in, she knows that's kind of stupid, because she's only a month pregnant. Pregnant. Damn. She wants to reach down to touch
her stomach, because it feels warm, and the floor is actually kind of cold, and nothing makes sense. Then the warm thing moves and for a second she freaks, but only in her mind, because her arm hurts and it's not moving the way she's telling it to move. Then she realizes that her painfully throbbing head is on something thin and soft and she can just feel the cold of the floor through it, but her feet are resting on someone's legs, and the warm thing is the same person's hand. And there's something warm and wet that is probably blood trickling down her forehead and it's ticklish. Quinn shouldn't but she wants to laugh, except everything is going black and all she can see are two brown eyes gazing at her worriedly before she can't see anything anymore. When Quinn wakes, she's lying down on a bed that isn't all that comfortable and doesn't feel like her own. Everything is too bright when her eyes first open, so she snaps them shut. That small movement makes her head spin. Her head. Oww. Her right arm is heavy and none of the nerves seem to work except the pain receptors, because trying to move her right arm just hurts. Her throat is sandpaper dry and her right temple is still throbbing. She tries to open her eyes again. This time, she manages to keep them open, and by gently flickering her eyelids, she manages to adjust to the brightness of the room, only to realize the room is actually quite dim. Then she realizes that the room is
a hospital room, and then she remembers what happened. She hisses when she looks at her right arm, because it's concealed by a dark green fibreglass cast. Broken wrist. She sighs, and someone on her left stirs. In the dim light, it should have been hard to tell who the person sitting in the chair is, but really, only one person could fall asleep in a chair sitting ramrod straight. Rachel Berry. Of course. The girl had been following her everywhere so far, why not to the hospital as well? The girl's eyes blink languidly, then almost immediately turn toward Quinn's own. Upon seeing that Quinn was awake, Rachel all but leaps over to her side. "How do you feel?" Rachel asks worriedly. Quinn wants to reply, really, she wants to say she feels like hell. She wants to say that she doesn't need a broken wrist along with all the other shit going on. She wants to say that her head feels like it's been stretched and she suspects there is either a huge bruise or stiches on her forehead, because there is no way unmarred skin hurts that badly. She wants to say that she is worried about the baby, the baby that deserves a chance, because she remembers lying on her stomach at one point. She wants to scream all this out, but she can't, because her damn throat is killing her, so she just points at the water at the foot of her bed with her left hand. It hits her that she's right handed, and writing is going to be so hard now.
Rachel is back in an instant with the water, and then she's holding it up to her lips. "Your hands are shaking," Rachel says informatively. Duh, Quinn wants to reply, I'm worried about my baby. And they say brunettes are smart. But she's just drinking because the water tastes like it came from Olympus, and ambrosia could not possibly taste any better than this water tastes right now. Then she wonders how bad her head injury must have been if she's rambling in her thoughts about Greek mythology she learned years ago. And when the glass is empty, Rachel fills another, and Quinn drinks that too. She can't even be bothered to argue with Rachel over holding the glass herself. When she's done, Quinn asks for a mirror. Rachel hesitates, and then pulls one out from her bag. It has a yellow cover, and is in the shape of a star. What a surprise. With a roll of her eyes at Rachel that surprisingly doesn't make her forehead burst into flames, (thank god for small favours), Quinn opens the mirror and looks at herself. She can't help but grimace. There is an ugly, red scrape on her forehead. It is already beginning to scab over and looks absolutely disgusting. She has a sudden urge to pick at it but resists. Just then, her parents walk in behind a young looking
doctor. She is honestly surprised to see both her parents there. Judging by the sunlight coming through the windows, it is probably around evening, and around evening, her mother is usually preparing dinner and her father is usually still working. She didn't expect them to both ditch their usual schedules to come get her. For a second, her heart warms to them, and then she sees the barely disguised annoyance on her mother's face, and her heart cracks, because of course they would both come over to get her. Judy Fabray was an alcoholic, but she was still smart. They were playing the 'loving parents' card. That was fine. She had plenty of cards of her own to play. Then Rachel Berry is introducing herself as Rachel Berry and Quinn can see the fleeting look of horror on her father's face. Russell Fabray had never liked gay men, and was constantly sending letters to the local council for the 'eviction of these foul beings'. Of course, Hiram and Leroy Berry were extremely good doctors who also happened to have connections with the ACLU. The letters got vague replies that never did end up anywhere. The tension in the air is suddenly suffocating and Quinn would have sworn a pink elephant had landed somewhere in the cramped room. Rachel flushes slightly, with rage or shame Quinn doesn't know. A quick goodbye and a quicker grasp of her hand later, Rachel is gone. Quinn clenches her fists,
because there is a note there, and her paranoid father would probably demand she burned the note if he saw it. The doctor is explaining to her how she should keep her cast dry, and Quinn absorbs the facts, but she doesn't really look at the doctor, because all she wants to ask is how her baby is. There is a dull ache in her stomach that might have been hunger but it might've meant something else... "So, you hit your head pretty hard and scraped it. You blacked out but thankfully you don't have a concussion. Your wrist will be fine; it's not too bad of a break. Just stay off it for about a month and a half and you'll be fine. No more cheerleading too." The doctor's eyes twinkled. She suddenly realized he was the brother of one of the Cheerios. Katelyn? Tracy? One of them, at any rate. "And uh... we ran a few more tests and your baby is fine as well. You have a horrendous bruise on your hip, but according to your friends, you didn't land on your stomach but on your side, so no damage done to the foetus." And then Quinn's world came crashing down. Her father visibly stiffens and her mother slowly turns to look at Quinn. There is an inscrutable look in their eyes. Quinn shrinks back into the bed. She is glad the baby is fine, but the only thing occupying her mind right now is how large and strong her father's hands look, and how his vein in his temple is gently throbbing. The doctor is saying something to her parents about signing her out and he hasn't noticed
that the tension in the air has practically hardened into a black crust and the pink elephant has exploded and its innards now coat the room. They drive home in silence. Her parents sit in the front, like they always do, and she sits behind her mother, like she always does. She stares resolutely out the window, but she can feel herself shaking. A person should feel safe with one's parents, but Quinn feels genuine fear. Neither of her parents, sober or drunk, are violent people. However, suppressing everything inside never bodes well, and the Fabray's are excellent at it. After a very tense, long and uncomfortable silence in Russell's new BMW, they are home, and Quinn's parents simultaneously unbuckle their seat belts and get out of the car. They walk up to the front door together in silence, not waiting for their daughter-witha-broken-wrist. Everything is as it should be. Then her father turns in the doorway and holds the door open, gazing at the car and waiting for Quinn to get out. She trembles, because they never wait for her to get out. She gets out, because a look of impatience is beginning to spread on Russell's face, and she doesn't need him to be angry, disappointed and impatient to boot. Quinn opens the door and grabs her schoolbag with her good hand. She takes a quick breath and puts on as blank an expression as she can before getting out of the car. The sun has almost set
completely, and the temperature is dropping fast. She shivers, or shakes, or trembles; she can't tell the difference any more, and she knows it's not because of the cold. Walking past her father is painful, because he flinches when her (Rachel's) hoodie touches his bare skin. It is almost as though he thinks pregnancy is contagious. Her mother looks calm, but she's holding a half-empty glass of what looks like whiskey, so that might explain things. They sit in the living room, her parents on one couch and her on another. For awhile, they don't speak, and then her father spits these words out. "Who is the father?" Quinn could feel the anger seeping through his words and reverberating in the air. For a quick second, Quinn hesitates, then says, "Finn Hudson." And then she stifles a scream when her father yanks the glass of whiskey away from a surprised Judy and hurls it across the room. With a crash and a tinkling that somehow sounds expensive, Quinn bids a silent goodbye to the glass and prays the same thing won't happen to her. In a quieter but deadlier voice, Russell Fabray asks again, "Who is the father?" "Noah Puckerman," Quinn whispers, not daring to look at him. She hears the soft thud of a heavy body
dropping onto a couch. "That Jewish punk with the awful hair?" her father asks disdainfully. Quinn just nods. She suddenly notices all the little things she's never noticed before. She feels mildly irritated at how her mother keeps tapping her index finger nervously on the armrest. Alcohol withdrawal or something like that, she suspects. She notices her father's heavy, calculative breathing. She figures he is making a list of pros and cons about whether or not she should be kicked out of the house. He is frowning and she gets absorbed into the creases on his forehead. Surely they weren't this deep a year ago? The ticking clock on the mantelpiece seems to symbolically refer to what little time she has left in this house. The shiny ornaments represent what little meaning living in her particular household has given her: absolutely none. Or maybe she is just paranoid, because her father is beginning to smile. Then her breath catches in a throat. She recognizes that smile. It was the same maniacal, obsessive smile he got every time he decided on a new torture he would put his interns at the law firm through. The smile meant someone was about to either be fired or put through unnecessary anguish. In her case, the smile probably meant Russell Fabray had decided on how to 'solve' his pregnant (problematic) daughter. He crosses his arms and
says, "Go to your room. Your mother and I need to talk." Quinn is confused, but she gets up and goes to her room because it was becoming hard to breathe in the living room. She drags her aching body up the stairs, aware that her wrist is throbbing and taking a shower later is going to be so annoying. That is, of course, if she still has a home where can she shower at. She sits on her bed and wonders how everything has changed so much. A mere 24 hours ago, she was speculating on how her first Slushie was going to feel. Now the truth is out everywhere: in school, at home and all over the Internet. She'd gone from being Quinn Fabray, cheerleader and bitch extraordinaire to being a knocked up cheerleader to being a scary, hormonal knocked up possibly-ex-cheerleader. They all belonged on a dramatic TV show. With singing and dancing. Quinn scoffs. As if anyone would have wanted to watch a lame show like that. Quinn isn't sure how long she stares at her closed door, but it seems as though she had just sat down when the door opens again to reveal her smuglooking father and her mother. Her mother looks mildly uncomfortable. Neither of them is holding any alcohol, but Quinn is no longer sure whether this is a good sign or not. Normally, them speaking to her while sober was always a rare and highly-anticipated event, but now? Now it scares her.
From her doorway, her father addresses her. "I hadn't told you yet, but I am running for President of the local council this year. It is time to evict those nasty faggots who call themselves Berry, but the current local council refuses to do a thing. Your pregnancy is a minor detail that threatens to blow my campaign away, but no matter. I have come up with a plan." After a short pause, as if he were on camera and trying to build tension, Russell Fabray says these words. After he says them, Quinn gently tugs and rubs at her ear, because she's sure she heard them wrongly. The doctors must not have noticed that her eardrum had been damaged in the fall. Then Quinn sees a satisfied look on her father's face as he repeats himself. Her mother stares off into the distance, obviously wondering what she was still doing there. The words play over and over again in her head as she sits on her bed, too stunned and dumbfounded to speak. Her father closes the door and she hears them walk off, undoubtedly to the kitchen for a drink to celebrate their own brilliance. "(ii)We're going to take a leaf from that Desperate Housewives show and send you off to a convent in Switzerland or China or some other place far away because you need some peace. Your mother is going to pretend to get pregnant and when you give birth, she'll have a miscarriage. The baby will be given away and then
you can come back. I will play the doting, distressed father and that will give me the edge I need to win the campaign. If I manage to get one of the Berry's to push your mother over, why, all the better! I'll blame the miscarriage on them and they'll be run out of town before they can even say the word 'fag'! You'll leave tomorrow morning." Quinn Fabray felt like she was in a very very bad sitcom. The absolute ridiculousness and desperation in her father's statement made Quinn seriously wonder about his sanity. And her mother, quietly accepting everything, only longing for her alcohol to get away from the harsh realities of life. She suddenly realizes that since she had woken up at the hospital, neither of her parents had called her by name. It shouldn't matter, but it does. Quinn slumps against her headboard. She wants to do something so bad, like run away, or shoot her parents, just something, because sitting there and pretending her parents were right was just stupid. A convent? Faking a pregnancy? What, were fake pregnancies making a comeback? Was a huge belly now a fashion statement? One fake pregnant lady was enough for Lima, Ohio. Terri Schuester was a coward and a nutcase, but she wasn't Quinn's problem, not anymore. She wants to do something, but she just can't find the energy to. Everything in her life was like a tidal wave pushing at her to make her fall. She was just exhausted. It was so hard to keep getting up and
swimming against those damn waves. She probably would have lain there staring around her room until she fell into an exhausted sleep, except her phone rings. Quinn wants to leave the phone ringing, so she does. Pink's "Don't Let Me Get Me"(iii) stops playing abruptly, then starts again a few seconds later. Quinn groans in annoyance, because her -phone is in her bag and her bag is on the floor, and it's more than 2 feet away and she would have to lift herself up from the bed to reach down toward it. When her phone rings for the third time, Quinn resigns herself to the fact that she is going to have to move. She leans over the bed and picks up her bag, swiftly rooting through it until she finds her phone. She picks up quickly because the song is starting to go right through her. She almost regrets picking up the phone when she hears Rachel Berry worriedly rambling about something, but something keeps her from hanging up. Perhaps it's the tentative maybefriendship they might have. There are so many 'maybes' in that sentence her head is spinning. No, really it is. She probably shouldn't lean over her bed when she has a (very ugly) head wound. Rachel Berry's voice is surprisingly comforting. "...then Mr. Schuester called an ambulance and Finn freaked out over the blood all over your forehead." Quinn finally notices the crusty dried blood on her hair
and grimaces. "Puck started talking about the baby, even though you didn't land on your stomach or anything like that. I have to admit I was worried as well. The 'foursome,' as you have so aptly named them, completely freaked out and Tina was hyperventilating. Kurt shocked everyone at the time by suggesting that you were perfectly fine, though now I suppose he was right. Brittany was crying though; she was so scared you were dead because you weren't moving. That took Santana a while to sort through. You were right, and I feel so dense for not noticing before that Santana is completely in love with Brittany. And I'm pretty it goes both ways, because Brittany wouldn't let anyone except Santana touch her." Rachel is silent then she says, "Quinn? Did you leave the phone on your table and start doing your homework? Are you there? Are you bleeding again or something?" "No, I'm here, still listening, surprisingly," Quinn admits wryly. "I'm just way too tired to tell you to shut up. Besides, I won't be able to talk to any of you this time tomorrow, so I guess I'm being a little bit sentimental and just listening." She can hear a gasp from the other end of the line. "What on earth do you mean you 'won't be able to talk to any of us this time tomorrow'? Quinn, please don't tell me you're going to kill yourself, because that isn't
going to solve anything! Or are you running away, because if that's what you want to, I'm going to tell you that running away while pregnant can have very adverse effects on your baby, and I'm sure you wouldn't want that. On a selfish note, losing you would mean losing the only sort-of-friend I have right now, and I think I may just lose control of my emotions and shoot everyone in the school in a mad fit of rage." If she hadn't been so damn tired, she wouldn't have been able to stand that word vomit. But she is, so she can. Quinn doesn't really need Rachel Berry trying to convince her not to take her own life though. What she needs is Rachel Berry trying to convince her parents not to take her life away. Maybe if she told the other girl, she actually would come down and start ranting to her parents about parental responsibility or something like that. And because her day has been as crazy as a day can get, Quinn deludes herself into thinking that even her father would cower under Rachel Berry's unstoppable word assault. Or they'd just agree to whatever she said so she would shut up. With this faint and mildly amused hope in her heart, Quinn spills everything. It's strange that she can tell this girl who has been her almost-friend for less than 9 hours so much when she can't tell her parents anything. Rachel gasps and swears during Quinn's retelling of her father's 'brilliant idea'. For a little while, she informs Quinn that taking an idea, any idea, from
Desperate Housewives is simply crazy and... Desperate. Then she starts in on how her parents are maybe a little bit 'not quite there in terms of sanity', and how she needed to 'leave as soon as possible, before she contracted the crazy'. This brings a slight smile to Quinn's face, because these are things she has always thought a little bit and never dared to voice. "And where would I go, hmm? I want to leave so bad, Berry, you don't even know it. But even a convent is marginally better than the streets. So I guess I won't be coming for Glee tomorrow, huh? Tell Mr. Schuester, Santana and Britt for me, won't you?" The forced cheer in Quinn's voice made Rachel vomit into her mouth a little, and there was a hard pit of absolute hatred in her stomach for Quinn's parents. Evenly, Rachel replies, "No." Quinn is surprised, and then she snaps back, "Fine, Berry. Just let them think I've done a runner. Pregnant runaway chick. That'll be just great. I mean, it's not like you have to do anything for me." And Quinn almost hangs up until she hears Rachel heave an exasperated sigh. "What?" she asks in frustration. "How much better would my home be as compared to a convent in Switzerland or the streets, hmm?" Rachel asks, unable to keep the slight mocking tone out of her voice. Honestly, what happened to the girl
from this morning who beat the spirit out of a six-foottall footballer? It was a blatant sign of how much control her parents had over her-a very unhealthy amount of control. She says as much to Quinn. There is silence on the other line and Rachel wonders if she has hung up or fainted. Then Quinn, clearly uncomfortable, says, "I would rather crawl to Sue Sylvester, begging for a place to live in her office before I would move in with you, Berry." Quinn is frank, not scathing, but for some unknown reason, Rachel feels extremely hurt. She almost hangs up, but her "Why?" slips out before she can. Quinn sighs. "Because we are who we are. Because even if we are maybe friends right now, we haven't been and I don't think your dads will like your biggest bully living under their roof. You don't need to offer me your home just because you feel sorry for me, and I would rather go to a convent than accept charity. Plus, my father is trying to run your parents out of town, and I don't think your dads will appreciate that very much. And my father almost threw a glass at me. If he finds out I'm living with the people he absolutely despises, I don't know what he might do. I'm not even being dramatic here. He's not a generally violent man, but when drunk and angry..." Quinn trails off. There are some soft mutterings between Rachel and another voice that sounds vaguely like a man. Quinn frowns. "Rachel?"
"Quinn, you've actually been on speakerphone since I offered you a place to stay one minute and 57 seconds ago. My dads absolutely don't care about the past because I don't care about the past. Also, your father will never win that election and even if he does, we have connections with the ACLU. My fathers are both doctors who are respected and needed in this town. We will never be run out. And if your father finds out you are living with us and doesn't like it, well, my daddy owns a gun, and let's leave it at that." Quinn can hear soft chuckles on the other end of the line. Well, at least she wasn't the only one amused by Rachel's inane ramblings. Quinn thinks about the offer. If she was being honest with herself, the Berry's home was much better when compared to a convent in Switzerland or the streets. "Okay," she says softly, "okay." Rachel smiles in triumph. "Shall I come over to drive to my house or will you be fine on your own?" "I, uh, don't know where you live," Quinn admits. "And if you could come over with that gun, that might help, too. I don't know how to tell my parents." "Don't," Rachel suggests. Quinn frowns again. "What do you mean, 'don't'?" "Don't tell them. Just leave. Maybe leave a note. I
mean, Quinn, do they even care?" Rachel's voice is soft and worried. "You can't stay there anymore, Quinn. They'll kill you with their so-called love. Your father wanted to use your pregnancy to his advantage. Do you really think they care if you leave like that?" Rachel doesn't want to say the things she is saying, but they are all true, and Quinn needs to hear them. "Okay," Quinn says again. Rachel nods. She can tell this is really hard for Quinn. Even though her parents used her as a means to an end, she probably still loved her parents a lot. It was that annoying parent-child connection. Rachel scowls unconsciously at her dads who are still standing in front of her. "We'll come get you. We'll be there in about 15 minutes. Quinn..." Rachel hesitates. "You'll be fine." "Yeah." Quinn says, emotionless. Rachel is perturbed when she hangs up. She almost doesn't protest when her dad refuses to go over the speed limit. She thinks about Quinn and her family, and then she thinks about her own family. She shakes her head at the difference between the two of them. She is suddenly thankful that she never went through everything Quinn had gone through. True, her school life had been hell, but to be able to come home to parents who cared about you... That was what was
important. And Quinn hadn't had that. In her room, Quinn picks up a piece of paper and a pen and she sits down at her desk. Her pen is poised awkwardly in her left hand over the paper, but she doesn't know what to write. She puts down the pen and grabs a duffle bag. She stuffs warm clothes and her other more essential items into it. They crumple because she can only use her left hand, but she doesn't care. She looks around her room and sees the pictures sitting on her desk and her dresser. She slowly picks one up. It is a photo of her and her mother, one of the few photos where they both look genuinely happy. Her mother is sitting on the swing in their backyard; she is 8 and sitting on her mother's lap. The picture is so cheesy, but it is one of the best memories she has of her childhood. The day had been Quinn's 8th birthday. They had planned to celebrate it together at a theme park, but at the last minute, Russell received a phone call from the office. He barely said 'Happy Birthday' to Quinn before he left. There was a wrapped present in the kitchen waiting for her, but she had been so disappointed. Without the car, they hadn't been able to go anywhere. Judy had sat Quinn down at the kitchen table and told her seriously, "Quinn, baby, we won't be able to go to the theme park today, but we'll do other things, okay?" She remembered nodding tearfully, and then her mother had magically pulled a bunch of ingredients out of the kitchen cupboards.
She had grinned widely at the chocolate sauce and whipped cream. They had made cookies, a cheesecake, and a mess of the kitchen. By the end of the day, they had had a small food fight and were both covered in flour and egg yolk. But they had been ecstatic. Even that young, Quinn had never seen her mother be so free with her. She remembered how they had put the cookies and cake away for her father, leaving the kitchen a mess. Her mother had whispered conspiratorially to her, "We'll let daddy clean it up." She had giggled wildly at that, and then they had gone out to the swings. When their neighbour, a professional photographer, had passed by and seen them looking picture perfect, he had quickly snapped a photo. They had simply grinned widely at him and asked him to give them a copy. Quinn brushes a thumb over her flour-covered hair in the photo, her happy smile. It had been a disaster when her father had returned home. Clearly in a bad mood, he had shouted at Judy for the mess in the kitchen, then berated her for 'letting their daughter act like a hooligan'. That night, she had heard her mother sobbing in her room. Since then, they had never baked anything together again, and her mother had started drinking. That day had been the day their relationship went to hell. It had happened so fast and so suddenly that 8-year-old Quinn had not understood it. Her mother's
dependency on alcohol quickly increased, and the warmth of their relationship quickly decreased. Quinn's fingers tighten their hold on the photo, and then she abruptly flings it onto the floor. The frame and glass cracks and the photo falls out. With trembling fingers, Quinn quickly writes on the paper. Don't bother pretending to worry about me. I'll be fine. I won't ask you for anything. Just pretend I never existed. After all, that's what you've been doing for the past 8 years. Q. The words are harsh and messy, but legible. Practising writing with her left hand while bored in Spanish has not been pointless after all. She hurriedly brushed away the tears from the corners of her eyes and grabbed her duffel and school bag. It isn't hard to sneak past her parents who are in the kitchen, because they were busy drinking themselves into a stupor. She gets into the Berry's waiting car and collapses into Rachel's arms, crying her eyes out. She isn't even embarrassed that she is crying in front of strangers, that is, Rachel's dads. It's just that the relief and sadness she feels at finally getting out of her house is so overwhelming. Later, she will berate herself for being an emotional wreck, but right then, she doesn't care. Quinn would never see her mother waking up, hungover, in the middle of the night and coming into her empty room to see a broken photo frame and a note on the desk. She would never see her mother fall
to the floor, clutching the note and sobbing her heart out. She would never see her mother staring at herself in the mirror and blaming herself over and over again for everything. She would never see her mother slap her father repeatedly and finally standing up for herself. She would never see that her mother cared. (i) Obviously taken from the actual glee episode where Puck makes that extremely stupid comment that got them all into trouble. (ii) Yep, that's right. Desperate Housewives. Bree sent her daughter to a convent because she got knocked up and then proceeded to fake her own pregnancy. It almost worked, too. It was just too perfect not to use for Quinn. Who doesn't see the similarities? Bree & husband are just such a perfect couple, with such perfect children. Except Bree's husband is a kinky guy who cheated on her, her son is gay and her daughter got pregnant out of wedlock. Fabray's are all perfect on the outside, but mother is hinted to be an alcoholic, and father is proved to be a complete douchebag. Daughter got pregnant out of alcohol and a douchebag. Plus, the shipping is Faberry. That means gay. Whoaaa... (iii) I love this song. I love Pink. No spoilers, but I might use one of her songs as a chapter. Just maybe. You could always suggest one. I'm very open to suggestions.
(iv) Playing God - Paramore. In this song, Hayley sings about someone 'playing God' and sort of telling her what to do. She sticks up for herself and sort of says 'Fuck you' without actually saying fuck you. That's my interpretation, anyway. So that's what Quinn did. She needed to stick up for herself against her parents and get herself away from their grasp. But the person who plays god the most is actually Russell Fabray. I hate him so much, and I think you can tell. Tell me whether I overdid it. I think the Fabray's are a really screwed up family, and Russell is a jerk, while Judy is a pushover. Tell me whether I portrayed that right. As usual, I don't have a beta, so if you spot any mistakes, tell me. Also, I'm not sure about the hospital scene, because I've never broken anything before. I was tempted to break a wrist to find out, but then I wouldn't have been able to type, which kind of defeats the purpose. And the local council thing… I wasn't sure about that either. I hate writing about things I'm not sure about, but I hope everything makes sense. I know this chapter is a lot more angsty than the last one, but it needed to be written. To Grangergirl22 who left me that anonymous review, I have to disagree. I wouldn't go gay for Megan Fox. She's annoying and as gay as I am, I don't actually like her. I wish Lea would go gay for Dianna. That would be SO much better.
Reviews are better than 8-year-old Quinn with flour all over her head. Not much, but still better. Because, really who can resist an adorable 8-year-old Quinn who is covered in flour? Partly inspired by the scene between Quinn and Puck where they chuck flour at each other. Just imagine her younger, cuter and without 'Man-Whore Puck'. Note: Okay, so before you read this chapter, go over to my profile and read the story called Mad World OutTakes. Chapter 1 is Sober, which is set sort of between Chapter 5 and 6. It provides a little bit of background which may help you understand this chapter a little bit. But if you don't, it's fine. You'll still be able to pick up the gist of it. In this chapter, I deal with Quinn's family issues. Also, finally, right? But you get extra length, so, yeah! The first and last time Judy Fabray had slapped her husband had been 8 years ago, the night of Quinn's 8th birthday party. Russell Fabray had stormed out of the house and slept at his office. She had spent most of the night crying her eyes out. She had never slapped him again, although she did sometimes have the urge to. She wanted to slap Russell when he demanded Phoebe be kicked out of her home. She wanted to slap Russell when he took Quinn's bass guitar away and made her cry so hard she couldn't breathe. She wanted to slap Russell when Quinn quietly told them she was in the Cheerios and he sold her piano to 'keep her focused on the important
things' and made her cry again. She wanted to slap him quite a few times, but she never did. She just smiled and drowned herself in alcohol, because it was easier than trying to fix things. She just smiled and let her husband do whatever he wanted, because she didn't know how not to. She did that for 20 years of marriage. Then on her 20th year, her daughter got pregnant. When Judy wakes up abruptly from her drunken stupor, she realizes she is lying face down on her kitchen table. Her forehead aches and she feels a splitting headache coming on. The cost of alcoholism is constant hangovers that can only be relieved with more alcohol. It was a vicious cycle. Judy sits up slowly and sees that the kitchen lights had been dimmed. The light coming from outside the window is soft and the clock on the wall says it is 1 in the morning. The house is eerily silent except for Russell's soft snoring from his place on the table beside her, his head on his arm. Judy feels nothing except mild annoyance as she stares at him. When they had started dating 20 years ago, she felt a pleasant, mild tingling that started in her fingertips and spread to her entire palm every time she looked at him. Back then, for a while, Russell Fabray had sported a
true Mohawk. He wore chunky rings and leather pants. He cussed and drank and smoke. That was what made her look at him. The fact that he happened to be the top student in his class and was going on to study law had just been an added bonus. When they met through mutual friends at a party and he actually acted charming and sweet, she had fallen hard. When he first held the doors open for her and pulled her chair out for her while wearing a leather jacket and holding a cigarette in his other hand, she knew she would marry him. Not many people who knew Russell Fabray then still knew him now. He dropped most of his old contacts, his crazy hair and his leather clothes. He got a decent haircut and graduated top of his class after his father threatened to ship him off to a military school. He still treated her like a queen though. It was all very cliché, but they were happy. Russell quickly got a job, and Judy worked part-time. Things were fine until Judy had to quit her job to take care of Quinn. Russell began spending more and more time at the office, saying he had a lot of work to do. And it was true. He was fast moving up in the company thanks to his charm and wit. His unerring ability to spot a liar didn't hurt, either. But by the time Quinn was 3 years old, they had had more than a few arguments about him and his job. He always claimed that if it wasn't for his job, they would be living in poverty. The arguments turned around in the same
circle over and over again, never coming to an actual conclusion. Judy Fabray could pinpoint the exact moment the tingling in her hands stopped. It was 8 years ago, April 30th, right before her hand unexpectedly came up and slapped her husband. Judy pads silently up the stairs, a cold glass of water in her hand. She had unconsciously reached for the bottle of vodka, but something made her pick up the water instead. She didn't consciously recognize the longing to see her daughter while sober one last time before Russell sent her somewhere far away. She doubted he would have sent her to a convent. First off, he probably wouldn't be able to find one. Secondly was, well, as harsh as Russell was, he loved his daughter, albeit in a strange, roundabout way. He might have taken her music away, but he did allow her to stay in that glee club she talked about so much. But she knew, somehow, that he wouldn't allow his pregnant daughter to stay with him. It wasn't because he was disappointed in her, though it was a little of that. It was more because every day he looked at her growing belly would remind him of how he had failed as a father. Every day he looked at her, he would be reminded of how he hadn't been there to keep her safe. Every day he looked at her, he would feel angry at himself for not foreseeing this and protecting his daughter from the things she would have to go
through. He would die of the crushing disappointment he felt for himself. She stops in front of Quinn's bedroom door and gazes at it. She does this every other night, sometimes consecutively if she was feeling worse than usual. Like many nights before this, she contemplates opening the door and going in. Like many nights before this, she wonders what she would do if she went in and spoke to her daughter. Tonight, she goes so far as to put her hand on the doorknob and turn if. She hesitates before gently pushing it open. The room is dark and she can barely make out Quinn's bed. She stands there, not daring to approach her daughter's bed. She wants to say something to her daughter, but what could she say? 'Quinn, I'm sorry, but I can't stop your father from being a paranoid crazy. I'm sorry I'm a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me these past 8 years. I'm sorry my dependency on alcohol is so bad, but without it I don't know who I'll be anymore. I've failed as a wife, and I've failed as a mother. I haven't failed at being an alcoholic, and I know it's stupid, but if I fail at that, what else can I be? Anyway, honey, I guess I won't be seeing you for about 8 or 9 months after tonight. I don't think you'll be going to a convent, but your father won't let you stay here. I'm sorry I can't do anything. Well, bye, baby.'
No, it isn't a very good idea at all. So instead, Judy just stands there ranting in her head. She suddenly realizes that the room is very quiet. There isn't even the sound of anyone breathing, other than herself. She wonders whether Quinn has gone to the bathroom, but her bathroom door is open and the bathroom is clearly empty. The bathroom in the hallway is also empty. Judy gets a sinking feeling in her stomach that reminds her of how she just knew when Quinn had fallen out of that damn tree in the backyard when she was 7. Trembling slightly, Judy walks over to the light switch and flips it on. The bright light made the intensity of her headache increase abruptly, and she blinks hard. She blinks hard because her daughter's bed is crumpled and messy and also empty. She blinks hard because there are clothes strewn haphazardly around on the floor, and because Quinn is not there. There is also a photo frame on the ground, the glass broken and the photo half out of the frame. Judy chokes back a sob when she sees that it is the photo of her and Quinn on their 8th birthday. Her desk is empty except for a note. Judy almost flies over to the desk and snatches the note. She desperately gasps for air when she reads these words. 'Don't bother pretending to worry about me. I'll be fine. I won't ask you for anything. Just pretend I never existed. After all, that's what you've been doing for the past 8 years. Q.' She stands there,
her mouth open slightly in disbelief, her heart thundering in her heart. Her daughter had run away. Her daughter had run away. She feels like someone is holding her heart in her hand and squeezing tightly, that's how hard it is to breathe. She stumbles drunkenly down the stairs, except she is perfectly sober. When she reaches the kitchen, she vomits into the sink. The sound of it wakes her husband up, who groans. "What the hell,' she hears him mutter, 'Don't do that into the sink, Judy." She turns around to throw the crumpled note and a fierce glare at him before turning back to the sink to wash away what little she had vomited as well as her mouth. She hears a long, drawn out sigh from Russell and the sound of him shifting in his seat. She takes a long drink of water and then turns back to him. "What have we done, Russell? What have we been doing for all this time?(i)" she whispers to him. Russell doesn't look at Judy. Instead, he flattens the note down on the table, smoothing it with him palms repeatedly. He shakes his head, speechless. "I don't know,' he says softly, 'I honestly don't know." With that, Judy collapses into him. He gathers her into his arms, holding her as she sobs into his shirt. He shushes her gently and rubs his hand over her back, but his eyes never leave the note. They might not
have loved each other anymore, but that didn't mean they hated each other. They hold onto each other for strength and comfort. The thought of Quinn not having this comfort makes Judy cry even harder. Eventually, Judy calms down. She sniffs and wonders where Quinn is. The note suggests she had run away, but she was 16 and pregnant. Her life might not have been happy, but it had been comfortable. There was no way Quinn could live on the streets; she didn't know how. But then, even if she did know how, neither Judy nor Russell would have known. They hadn't known she was pregnant. They hadn't known a lot of things about their daughter. "Where do you think she could've gone?" Russell sounds drained and worried. Judy climbs out of Russell's hold awkwardly. She fills two glasses with water and hands one to Russell. "I don't know," she admits after a gulp of water. "She could be with her cheerleader friends, that Santana Lopez or Brittany...something, or she could be at school. Or she could be at the park, or..." A thought suddenly hits Judy smack in the middle of her forehead. She turns to face her husband slowly. He flinches as the same thought strikes him. "Phoebe," they both murmur. It makes sense. She had been kicked out of her home as well at roughly the same age, though for a completely different
reason. And, contrary to Quinn's beliefs, they knew she had kept in touch with Phoebe and Amanda. Judy had had a very long argument with Russell in regards to that. In the end, he had agreed to just take her bass guitar away and ground her for a month without reason. Quinn had been angry, but it was the best Judy had been able to do. She knew Phoebe and Quinn had been close, and taking their relationship away wasn't going to strengthen the relationship between herself and her daughter. So she let her daughter think they didn't know anything about her frequent visits to the diner. She allowed Quinn to think they didn't monitor their calls for inappropriate issues. Just because she let her daughter keep in touch with Phoebe didn't mean she condoned what Phoebe did with her...partner. Judy shoots a quick glance at Russell before picking up her phone that was lying on the kitchen counter. Nervously, she dials in the number of Quinn's cell phone. She doubts the girl would pick up, but there is no harm in trying. True enough, the steady, repetitive beeping in her ear told her that not only had her daughter not picked up, she had probably pressed 'busy'. Judy sighs even though she hadn't expected any less. The next number she dials required her to scroll
through the numbers in her phone frantically. She knows there is a Phoebe Grey in there somewhere. Judy had, for reasons unknown, added the girl into her cell phone one day after seeing her name in the phonebook. She had told herself it was just in case of an emergency, that it was always important to have all your relatives' contacts with you whether or not they were disowned. She notices the clock on the wall says it is 1:30 in the morning, and normally she wouldn't call anyone so late/early at night/morning, but her daughter has run away to somewhere and she could care less. The phone only rings a short while before a woman with a British accent picks up. "Hang on, Pheebs. Hullo?" The woman sounds amused, like she had just been laughing. Judy freezes for a moment. She knows this is Amanda Grey, because even after so many years, she has not forgotten a single detail her sister cried to her. She recovers her voice at the second, calmer 'hullo?' "Hi. I'm sorry to call so late but I'm, uh, looking for Phoebe?" "Sure. Hold on a second. Phoebe!" Amanda yells. The sound of a bass guitar from the other end of the line stops abruptly. Judy feels an unexpected pang. She used to hear the sound of a bass guitar a lot more often when Quinn had still played.
"Hello?" Phoebe sounds confused. "Phoebe,' Judy says formally. She waits for the girl to recognize her voice. There is a tense silence, and then in an equally formal voice, Phoebe says, "Judy. To what may I owe the honour of receiving your call at.. 1:30 in the morning?" On the inside, Judy sighs with relief. At least she hadn't slammed the phone down immediately. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you something." Her only reply is a stony silence. Undaunted, Judy continues. "It's about Quinn. We uh, had an argument earlier. She's...pregnant and Russell wanted to send her away. I just checked her room and she...she just left a note. I thought she might have come to you." The 'because you're more of her family than we are' was left unsaid, but everyone heard it. "I see," Phoebe says coldly. Judy waits for almost 10 seconds, and then she exhales. "Right,' she says quietly, 'I guess I can't expect you to voluntarily provide me with this information. I understand. I just...I don't know if she's safe. I... Have a good night then." And then Judy almost hangs up, but then she hears Phoebe say something and she slams her phone back against her ear. "I'm sorry?"
Tiredly, Phoebe says, "I said, I know where she is." Judy waits in anticipation. "She called and told me everything. Convents, Switzerland, China, glassthrowing. Everything, Judy. What the fuck does Russell think he's doing by threatening to send her to fucking China? I don't know what the fuck goes on in your house, but I'm not going to tell you where she is just so you can drag her ass back and then send her away. She'll be happier where she is than she ever could be with you." Judy's throat dries up at Phoebe's bitterly uttered words, but she can't deny their truth. "We weren't thinking,' she said softly. Again, her only reply is silence. "I take it she's not with you, then?" "No,' then Phoebe grunts with irritation. 'Alright, listen to me, Judy. You listening?" Judy nods, and then says 'yes' aloud. "Okay. She's with a friend who might actually be able to take care of her properly. And she's probably not picking up your calls, right?" Judy says 'yes' again, this time with regret. "I'll do you a favour, Judy, because I know a little something about being torn away from your family." Judy winces here, but Phoebe is matter-of-fact. "I'll give her a call, check up on her, and get back to you. I'll talk to her and see if she wants to move in with me or stay with her friend, and maybe even call you back.
But it's all her, you got me? It's all by her choice. You have never allowed her to do anything on her own, and now you've fucked up." Judy murmurs something in agreement, which makes Phoebe scoff. "If she moves in with me, you accept it. If she stays with her friend, you accept it. If she decides for some fucking weird reason to move back in with you and Russell, you better treat her damn right, otherwise I'm calling Social Services on your asses. I know about your drinking, and I don't think they'd be happy about that." Judy croaks out, "Thank you. I think." "Damn right you should thank me. I'm giving more of a chance than you ever let my own mother give me, Aunt Judy,' and this time she sounds accusing. "I'm sorry,' is the only thing Judy can say. She ignores the looks Russell keeps giving her. "Right then. If she doesn't call you back don't be surprised. I have to go." "Okay. Thank you,' Judy whispers, but the line is already dead. She slowly sits down at the kitchen table and puts her phone down. She cups her hand over her mouth and closes her eyes. She breathes through her nose and tries to calm down.
"Judy. Well?" Russell sounds like he is trying not to sound impatient. Judy repeats the conversation whilst staring at her phone. She prays so hard that her daughter would call her that she imagines her cell phone lighting up and the name 'Quinn' flashing on the screen. Then she realizes that Russell is staring at her phone as well, apprehension written all over his face. When Quinn Fabray first enters the Berry home, her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, but that doesn't prevent her from seeing just how normal their home is. Admittedly, not many people would have had quite so many pictures of their only daughter strategically placed absolutely everywhere, but it's still fairly normal. That gigantic glass case full of prizes that gleamed just showed how proud they were of their daughter, right? It wasn't obsessive at all. And, okay, so the stairway was lined with Broadway paraphernalia like posters and pictures and autographs, but then again, there are two gay men and a future Broadway star living in that house, so that's kind of expected. All in all, really, it's not what Russell ranted to Quinn about. There aren't any sacrificial alters or shrines dedicated to the deity of homosexuality, nor are there devil horns hanging on a wall, or boar heads on a stick.(ii) In fact, Quinn feels strangely let down at all the
normalcy. There is a normal plasma television in the very normal living room that also holds a couple of very comfortable looking couches. Then there's the very normal dining table and kitchen. So the house is a bit better decorated, with a keener eye to detail and colour and all that interior designing crap, than the average house is, but again, two gay men. It's weird how the Berry's have a small picture of a berry on their kitchen wall, though. It's crudely drawn and coloured, but obviously a raspberry. There's a small, scrawled signature on the bottom right-hand corner of the picture, but it's too far away from the kitchen counter where Quinn is sitting to see. Hiram, Rachel's tall, African-American 6'1" sees Quinn looking quizzically at the crayon drawing and laughs. "Rachel drew that when she was 8 and the teacher told them to draw something to do with their families." Quinn's mouth drops and Rachel just rolls her eyes, obviously having heard the story far too many times before. "We thought it was funny so Leroy and I got it laminated and framed it up. It was far too good to be put on the fridge." Quinn's grin slips off as Leroy slips into the seat next to Hiram. Rachel stays standing, looking nervous. The air in the spacious kitchen is suddenly harder to breathe. "So," Leroy states. Quinn's head ducks involuntarily. Hiram clears his
throat. "Quinn,' he prods gently, 'Look at us." She looks up. He sighs. "We don't know the whole story; all Rachel said was that you had some trouble at home and needed a place to stay for a while. And that's fine, really. We know what it's like to not have your family support you." Here Leroy looks grim and he nods. Hiram wraps an arm around him and continues. "You can have a place to stay for a night, a week, a month; whatever. But eventually, Quinn, you're going to have to deal with your parents. Now, if you don't want to tell us what made you want to leave, you don't need to. For now. However, we would like to know sooner or later if you continue living here because if we don't know, we can't help you." Hiram's voice is soothing, but Quinn still feels tears prickling at her eyes. She blinks them back because she has done nothing but cry since meeting them 20 minutes ago. "I can't go back,' she whispers, 'because I'm pregnant and my dad wants to send me to a freaking convent in Switzerland or something. Thank you for letting me stay here. I'll just... I can be out of your hair by tomorrow afternoon." Quinn doesn't actually know what she's saying, but she knows that she could at least stay with Santana for a couple of days. "What are you talking about, Quinn?" Rachel exclaims. "They're not kicking you out." Rachel glares at her dads, who raise their eyebrows simultaneously.
"They're not,' she emphasizes. "We are most certainly not,' Leroy clarifies. "What Hiram means is, we know, Quinn, what it's like to have a daughter. And I don't think it matters whether she's pregnant or a drug addict or gay or anything. What matters is that in the end, it all comes down to the fact that you don't abandon your child.' Quinn wants to slap herself until her tears stop trying to force their way out of her eyes. "And yes, maybe your parents failed you this time. But you left them a note, right?" Quinn nods. "They'll try and find you. And maybe, just maybe, they'll have been so traumatised by your leaving that they'll talk to you and you can work something out. At least let them know you're safe,' Leroy suggests. "Send them a text or something." Quinn shakes her head. "They don't care. They're probably passed out on the kitchen table right now." Hiram exchanges a quick, inscrutable look with Leroy before rumbling softly, "They'll care soon enough when they realize you're not joking about running away. But we won't force you to do anything. If you don't want to give them a call, don't. If you don't want to stay here, don't." Rachel huffs loudly. "We'll still try to tell you what to do, though. Only, the choice whether you want to do them or not rests with yourself."
Quinn nods and softly says, "Thank you so much, Mr. Berry, and uh, Mr. Berry. You don't know how much this means to me." And it was true. Quinn had never had adults seem to care about her so much before. They had always been more interested in her parents than her, not that she cared for them at all. They were all either her father's conservative lawyer friends or her mother's boring housewife friends who could talk and entire day and say nothing at all. The Berry's were different. They genuinely seemed to care about her. She'd only met them less than a half hour ago, but already she trusted them more than she trusted her father. There was something about the compassion and understanding in their eyes. "We know, Quinn, trust me, we know." Leroy sounds out mournfully as he looks at Quinn, his eyes murky. Quinn feels vaguely uncomfortable. Hiram just nods and stands up. "Are you hungry?' he asks abruptly. "Uh, no, thank you." "Well, if you do get hungry, there's leftover meatloaf and casserole in the fridge and fruits in the bottom compartment. Also, it's Hiram and Leroy. None of that Mr. Berry and Mr. Berry thing, got it?" Hiram smirks and shoos them out of the kitchen. "Show the girl to her room, Rachel. She looks exhausted and it's not even 8pm. I do hope she won't be such boring company all the time."
Quinn blushes shyly, and the tense atmosphere lifts as suddenly as it descended. Leroy barks out a laugh, his oval glasses slipping down his hooked noses slightly. Rachel just sighs and starts in on another tirade. Or at least, she tries, but then Quinn grabs her arm with one hand and pulls her out of the kitchen. Rachel snags Quinn's duffel bag that's lying on the kitchen table because Quinn only has the use of one arm and she obviously forgot. Quinn can hear Hiram and Leroy chuckling and then speaking in hushed tones before she starts going up the stairs. "Quinn!" Rachel grumbles indignantly, but allows the pregnant girl to lead her up the stairs. "I assume your room is upstairs?" Quinn calls back at Rachel. "If you had let me lead the way, you wouldn't have to ask now, would you? But yes, it's upstairs. The guestroom is next to my room." Rachel provides a running commentary as they ascend the stairs. "That's Avenue Q,' she points to a framed poster, "My dads think it's hilarious, but I think it's full of immature humour. Granted, there is the occasional funny line in there, but it's mostly sexual innuendo. The songs are quite catchy though, I guess. The titles leave nothing to imagination, however. 'If You Were Gay' and 'Everyone's a Little Bit Racist' is surprisingly good and has an interesting back story, but 'The Internet is for Porn' is just stupid. And, okay, so the songs are really good and I actually love the entire musical, but if you
ever tell Kurt that, I will slaughter you in your sleep." Quinn gets the gist of it, because she's getting used to how Rachel manages to talk without breathing, ever. They go another three steps before coming upon the next poster. "Funny girl,' Rachel states, her eyes shining, "I absolutely adore Streisand. I probably shouldn't start talking about her because I'd never be able to stop, and then you'd probably karate chop me on the neck, thereby rendering me voiceless, which would as good as kill me." "Yeah... Can we keep going? You can drool over her poster some other day." Another three steps and they are at the landing. A small table stands in the corner, several Broadway musical programme books placed artistically on one another in such a way that all ten books manage to show-off their titles. Quinn recognizes some of the titles like 'Rent', 'Cats', 'Hairspray' and, unsurprisingly, 'Wicked', but the others she has never even heard of before. Then she looks up. On the wall is a huge 6' by 8' foot poster of Wicked. It is so big Quinn didn't even notice it at first. Quinn automatically lets out a groan. "Really, Berry? Did your dads buy this voluntarily or did you blackmail them?" Rachel sniffs, but there is a proud gleam in her eyes.
"I whined about it for a month, and then cried over it for a week. They then bought this one, which is even bigger than the one I asked for. It was for my 12th birthday party. That I had horribly swollen eye bags on my birthday simply doesn't matter because it was so worth it." Then Rachel smirks, obviously very pleased with herself. Quinn walks up the rest of the stairs, not bothering to wait for Rachel to speak at length about the merits of 'Saturday Night Fever' and 'West Side Story'. She stops at the top of the stairs and stares down at the long hallway. There is one door at the very end of the hallway, and two doors on each side of it. Quinn knows exactly which door leads to Rachel's bedroom, not because it's the only pink door there, but because her name is spelled out in small gold star stickers on the door. Somehow, Quinn just isn't surprised. Rachel points out the guestroom and the bathroom on the opposite side of her room. The door next to Rachel's leads to Rachel's bathroom, and the door at the end of the hallway led to her dad's bedroom, "And unless it's an emergency, don't go in there,' Rachel shudders, 'It's kind of creepy how they're so neat everywhere else in the house, but their room is a complete disaster. The mess. God." Rachel throws open the door to the guestroom and
plops down on the queen-sized bed. The room is decorated simply in warm shades of brown and beige. From the doorway, Quinn examines the bedside table, the study desk and the closet. Rachel is explaining something about the abstract piece of artwork on the wall, but to Quinn it just looks like something someone painted while high on LSD. Finally noticing that Quinn hasn't stepped into the room, Rachel leans up off the bed and props herself up on one arm. It's the most casual pose Quinn has ever seen her in. "Quinn? What's wrong? If you don't like this room I'm could find you somewhere else to sleep. I mean, I could show you my room, though I doubt you'll be able to appreciate it. The couch isn't very comfortable either. But..." Rachel trails off in confusion when she sees Quinn shaking her head. Rachel gets off the bed and gently tugs Quinn into the room. "It's your room now, Quinn." She realizes that Quinn still stands there lifelessly next to the bed and sighs. Rachel sits on the bed and pulls Quinn down with her. The blonde sits, but still stares straight ahead. After a quick sidelong glance, Rachel envelopes Quinn in a hug. Quinn feels herself melt into the hug involuntarily. A small corner of her mind also notes that the small girl gave really good hugs. It's a little
awkward because of Quinn's cast, but they manage. "Quinn,' Rachel breathes, tucking Quinn's head into her shoulder, 'Please don't go into shock." The blonde nods a little in response and leans into Rachel, hugging her tighter. "It's just, this is insane, y'know? First I take on Karofsky, then I skip school, then I break my wrist, which is so inconvenient, by the way, then my parents find out I'm pregnant and try to send me to China. Somehow, I end up living with you. I just feel kind of out of it right now. It's been a really, really long day,' she murmurs against Rachel's shoulder. "Mm-hmm,' Rachel squirms, trying not to blush. She tries really hard to suppress the shiver she feels at Quinn's vibrating throat against her shoulder, she does, truly. It's inappropriate, because the blonde is having a mini-breakdown. But as amazing an actress and singer she is, even she can't stop the butterflies beginning in the pit of her stomach. She's had enough crushes to realize this is the beginning of another one. Not for the first time, and not for the last, she curses her hormones. She also curses Quinn for being so damned beautiful. Quinn, oblivious to effect she was having on Rachel, just sighs and leans comfortably into the shorter brunette. She realizes that she hasn't had anyone hold her like that for a while. Finn never had hands that soft and he was always far too tall and his hold
too tight. Puck never held her. Her parents hadn't hugged her like that for a long time; 8 years, to be precise. Santana and Brittany were more likely to hug and then make-out with each other than to hug her. And then... Then there hadn't really been anyone else in her life. After a while, Rachel pulls away. She doesn't want to at all, but if she doesn't, she is sure she would do something she later would regret, like kissing the straight girl, or worse, jumping her. God, that 'beginning of a crush' sure developed into a full-blown crush pretty damn fast. Quinn reluctantly lets go of the girl and falls back against the bed. The pillows are really soft and fluffy, and she unwittingly sinks deep into them. She doesn't bother pulling herself out of the pile of pillows. Instead, she just reaches a hand out to Rachel from her place in the pillows and asks a muffled question. "Could you pass me my phone please?" Rachel's lips twitches but she reaches into Quinn's school bag and roots through it for her phone. She hands the phone over to Quinn, who doesn't move her head up from the pillows. Rachel can't help but giggle, because there are a lot of pillows, and all she can see from her vantage point on the ground is Quinn's body and some golden blonde hair trailing on top of the pillows. It looked to her like a headless body using a cell phone.
Ignoring the giggles, Quinn says a little shyly, "Do you mind if I make a call to Phoebe in, y'know, private?" She doesn't want to kick Rachel out, but she didn't really want Rachel in the room while she called her cousin. First, she was afraid Rachel would hyperventilate over Phoebe's voice, and secondly, she really just wanted to talk to her cousin. Rachel shrugs, and then remembers that Quinn cannot see her. "Yeah,' she mutters nonchalantly, "It's fine." Quinn holds one hand up and gives Rachel a quick wave then she starts dialling. Within seconds Phoebe picks up. "Hey Quinn.'Sup?" "Hey Phoebe,' Quinn greets tiredly, "A lot, really. A truck load of shit lot." Surprised, Phoebe says, "Wait, wait. I'm just getting into my apartment now.' Quinn hears the sound of shoes hitting the floor and a content sigh. 'Sorry. It was a crazy long day at the diner. Plus, Amanda took a half-day leave to see an old friend, and then Dean, that other cook was late. So, anyway, what does 'a whole truck load of shit lot' include?" "Well, after we went to your apartment, Rachel kind of broke down. She got over it and we talked crap for a couple hours and went back to school, where Finn
and Puck made up over me cheating on Finn and having Puck's baby and it's just... it's a little crazy. Guys are nuts, I swear. Then, we're all sort of happy and normal for a bit, then I go and trip over a freaking chair and break my wrist and scratch my head. The stupid doctor blurted out about my pregnancy in front of my parents, and my father said he was going to send to a, can you believe it, convent in, get this, Switzerland or China. I don't even know if there are convents there. Then Berry calls, and she offers me her guestroom, and her dads kind of tell me to not hate my parents. Yeah, it's a little crazy over here in Planet Quinn." Quinn stops talking and snuggles into the pillows. Phoebe is silent and for a while Quinn can only hear her breathing. Then Phoebe starts half-laughing. "What?" Quinn demanded. "Nothing, nothing,' Phoebe chuckles, still choking back her laughter, "It's just that your life is a really bad sitcom right now. Like, the worst television show ever." "Thanks a lot, Pheebs,' Quinn grumbles, "A little support would've been nice too, but I'm glad I could provide entertainment." Her voice almost cracks from the sarcasm. Phoebe just laughs a little longer then grows serious. "I can't believe Russell tried to do that though. Isn't he some smartass senior partner at a law firm? It sounds a bit too crazy for someone like him. Is it even legal?"
Phoebe muses. "He said he got the idea from watching 'Desperate Housewives'. I didn't even know he watches that show. I got over all the plot twists last year. It's so last season,' Quinn drawls, making her voice sound as bitchy as it could go. "Eva Longoria's hot, though,' Phoebe counters. "Whatever." Then they're quiet for another moment, and then Quinn's cousin abruptly offers her a place to stay. "You know we have an extra room too, right? I mean, if you're not comfortable at the Berry's place. We are, after all, family. Even if I got disowned. We're still family in here," Phoebe says fiercely, and Quinn can hear her thumping herself on her chest. She smiles at her cousin's loyalty. "Yeah. I might take you up on that offer. Rachel's great for letting me stay here, but it's a little awkward. I might accidentally kill her,' Quinn jokes. "Don't,' Phoebe says sombrely. Then she cracks up. "She's cute though, cuz. If I was single and 7 years younger I'd would absolutely-" "Phoebe. Don't even go there,' Quinn admonishes.
"Look, I've said this before and I'll say it again. Your parents have repressed you to the point where you can only vehemently deny your homosexuality. Trust me. I know." Quinn rolls her eyes even though her cousin can't see her. "I know who I am, Pheebs. I'm not gay. I'm pregnant, for one. Also, I'm not attracted to girls. Stop trying to convert me just to piss my parents off." She hears a scoff from the other end of the line. "It was worth a shot. But, really, all jokes aside, we'd love to have you. Just call me before you decide to move in so that we can get rid of all the, uh, stuff in the guest room." Quinn can tell Phoebe is grinning, so she hopes her cousin is joking as well. "I don't want to know what stuff you're talking about, right?" Quinn asks hopefully. Cheerfully, Phoebe replies, "Not at all." "Have you told Amelia?" "No,' Quinn sighs, 'I haven't talked to her properly since she moved out 3 years ago. She doesn't get very good reception no matter where she is, though sometimes I think she's faking it just to get out of talking to me. I doubt she'll have time to listen to me griping about my problems; she's too busy saving the goddamn environment," Quinn mutters bitterly.
"Alright, alright. Chill. I just thought she might've liked to know her kid sister's pregnant and out of the house. Don't get pissed at me. I think she's in California or something, though. I thought I saw a flash of her face in the news. Spiking trees and sabotaging equipment. The usual stuff." "Mm-hmm." Quinn misses her sister, but there isn't much point in it. Amelia cared far more about a couple of trees than her own family. She moved out as soon as she was old enough and joined a group of environmental activists. When she introduced herself, she didn't reveal her last name. People in Lima assumed she went to a bigger city because she had been a smart girl who graduated with honours, but really, she was now sleeping on the ground every night with no pay. Quinn supposes that she should be proud of her sister, and somewhere inside, she is, but she wished her sister would call her and talk for more than 10 minutes every month or so. The Fabray family is so messed up. Her parents don't talk about Amelia, because even though she's 'saving the world', she didn't go and get a law degree. Another Fabray disappointment. Quinn sighs. "So, Pheebs?" "Yep."
"..." "Quinn?" "Yeah." "Take care, okay? Just call me anytime you wanna talk. Or if you ever wanna gatecrash, do it. I just want you to know that Amanda gets really, really horny during her periods so..." "Phoebe!' Quinn exclaims, finally breaking a laugh. "I get it! There's such a thing as too much information, okay? I'm your cousin and I totally didn't need to know that." Phoebe grins. "And she gets kind of lou-" "Pheebster, shut up right now. Like now, or Amanda's going to find out how you 'accidentally' burned her abstract painting away,' Quinn threatens smugly. She hears a gasp, and then pleading. "Quinn, my dear cousin, my dear cousin Quinn, you can't do that. I mean, okay, I probably should've just told her I hated that painting, but she wouldn't have thrown it away. Besides, she painted another one. Slightly less hideous, but much more bearable. You understand my reasons, don't you, Quinn? Right?" Quinn just laughs. "I have tons of dirt on you, Pheebs.
I can't wait to 'accidentally' reveal it all when I'm drunk one night,' she teases. "I can't believe you got me to spill so much. Damned scotch,' Phoebe growls. Quinn is about to continue their banter, but she hears the sound of knocking on her door, then Phoebe says, "Manda's back, Quinn. Talk to you later? And remember, if you ever wanna move in here..." "Yep. Thanks Phoebe. Bye,' and then she hangs up. "Come in,' Quinn calls out. Rachel pokes her head in through the door. "Hi. I was going to watch 'Whip It!' I was wondering whether you wanted to watch it with me?" Quinn frowns slightly. "Isn't that the one with Ellen Page that Drew Barrymore directed? With the roller derby stuff?" Rachel nods. "It got pretty good reviews, and at the very least I get to stare at Ellen Page for an hour and a half if it's a bad movie." "I've already watched it, actually,' Quinn says, smirking. "That might shock you." Rachel does look surprised. "It's not a bad movie. I'd actually like to sleep for a while, though. I'm kind of tired."
Rachel nods. "Good night then. Even if it happens to only be 8. If you get hungry, there's plenty of food downstairs. Wake me up if you can't find it. I'll show you my secret sweet stash." Quinn scoffs but Rachel just flips the lights off and gently closes the door. She squirms until the blanket is above her instead of under and drifts off into a deep sleep. She wasn't kidding when she said she was tired. Karofsky, hospital, parents; everything had taken its toll on the pregnant cheerleader. Around 5 hours later, Quinn is woken up by her ringing cell phone. She fumbles around for it and accidentally presses 'busy'. "Oops,' Quinn mutters, then squints in the darkness to see her mother's name listed under missed calls. She sighs and slumps into the fluffy pillows. She argues with herself over calling back but decides not to. If her mother wanted to talk to her that much, she could just call again. Less than three minutes later, her phone rings again. This time, it's Phoebe. Quinn picks up. And then two minutes later, she finds herself dialling her mother's number. She inwardly curses Phoebe for convincing her to give her mother a call. "Hello?" Note
(i) From the song, 4 in the Morning. I used this song by Gwen Stefani as the title more from Judy's point of view. It's just really sad. I kind of feel sorry for Judy, y'know? I think she could've been a good mother if it wasn't for everything going to crap (ii) Sort of a Lord of the Flies reference, JSYK. Also, I have exams in 8 hours. That's how much I love you guys. I know this is a little late, but it's got extra length! I hope you liked it though; t'was really hard to write. Also, about those outtakes. If there's anything you want me to write, you can leave me a review telling me about it. I'll see what I can do to make it fit into the story. They can be short or long. It's all up to you. As usual, reviewers, subscribers, etc, you guys are great. Each and every one of you. Note: Fuck You – Lily Allen. I love that song, and I'm sorry if it offends you. "Hello? Quinn? Baby?" Judy's throat is dry and her words frantic. Quinn winces at how awkward the term of endearment sounds coming from her own mother. "Mother."
"Quinn,' her mother breathes, 'Where are you? Are you okay?" Sighing, Quinn leans into her pillows. "I'm at a friend's place. Okay, I guess. Why did you call me?" she mumbles. There is a pause at the other end of the line, and then her mother lets out a gush of air. "I… I'm still your mother, Quinn. I was worried. Who are you stayingWait. Your um, your father wants to talk to you." Judy stares at an unwavering Russell Fabray who has his hand out, gesturing at the phone. She hesitantly passes it to him, fearful that he will say something unhelpful that would make their daughter run even further away from them than she already was. "Quinn,' Russell says firmly into the phone, 'Your mother and I care about you very much. We are your parents and this is your home. You will come back home right now. You are still a minor and you still have to listen to us. You will come back home and talk. You will get rid of that… abomination, and we will be a family again. You hear me?" Judy gapes at her husband and tries not to throw a chair at him. Had he no idea that he was dealing with Quinn Fabray, his own child? Had he no idea how
stubborn Quinn could be once she had made a decision? She slumps and leans her forehead on the cool kitchen tabletop, knowing, just knowing that there was no way Quinn was going to come back after Russell's speech. Stubbornness ran in the family. In the Berry guestroom, Quinn clenches her hand around her cell phone. "No,' she hisses through gritted teeth as calmly as she can, 'No, I will not come back home right now." Russell's eyes narrow and he scowls. Judy takes this as a bad sign and gives in. She grabs her favourite bottle of vodka and starts pouring. "Now you listen to me, Quinn Charlotte Fabray(i). I am your father and you will listen to me. I am telling you to come home and you will come home." Sitting in his kitchen, Russell roughly grips the edge of the table. His scowl is etched deep into his face. "Fuck you(*),' is what Quinn accidentally lets slip. She blanches and prays she didn't say that out loud. "What did you?" Russell sounds incredulous, but also angry. A sudden surge of boldness rushes through Quinn's veins. "I said fuck you, daddy. You don't actually want me back home. You just want Quinn fucking Charlotte Fabray to sit there like a good girl. You don't want
who I am. You want your perfect daughter with her perfect grades and her perfect friends to show-off to all your other perfect lawyer asshole buddies. Well, fuck you. I'm sick of it. You don't want to help me with my problem, my pregnancy; you just want to get rid of it and sweep the problem under the rug, like every other problem we've had for the past 16 years. I'm not getting rid of this baby; what happened to all the preaching about acceptance and love and not killing? You want me back because your other daughter deserted us and jumped ship as soon as she could legally be emancipated and you don't want anyone to know how bad a parent you are. So fuck you. Fuck you and your conservative freak show of a family. Please don't stay in touch(*)." Her last sentence comes out mocking. "You ungrateful brat! I don't even know how your mother's been raising you. You are a horrible example of a child to talk to your own father like that. You think it's easy taking care of a child? Well, you can keep your bastard child and you can see how hard it is to keep a child safe from the evils of the world. As of today, I have no child. I have never had a child, and I will never have a child!" Russell is screeching into the phone by the time he is done. Russell throws the phone on the table in his fury and storms out of the kitchen with so much dramatic effect that even Rachel Berry would have been impressed.
Judy grabs for the phone and attempts to speak to her daughter. "Quinn? Quinn, are you there?" "What do you want, Judy? Would you like to scream at me some more? I'll have you know that I am exhausted and I really don't want to talk to any of you ever again." Quinn says tiredly. "I don't... I... You're my daughter, Quinn. I'm sorry. Just... Please, just come home,' Judy pleads desperately. Her daughter calling her by her first names hurts more than it should. Coldly, Quinn snaps, "What daughter? As of today, you don't have a daughter, remember?" Then she presses the end call button. She melts into the pillows and just lies there, staring at the ceiling, unable to go back to sleep. After a while, it finally hits her. She stares at the phone and gapes. She did not just tell her father to 'fuck off'. She groans and throws her phone back on the bed. Her life is a mess and she couldn't even control what was coming out of her mouth anymore. Her phone rings again, but she silences it. Perhaps in a day she'll call her mother back, but not tonight. Word vomit does no one any good. 5 minutes later, Quinn is stumbling to the bathroom, her hand firmly clamped over her mouth. It's weird how she manages to throw up even though she hasn't
eaten anything since breakfast. Damned morning sickness loved to screw people around. It was disgusting, really. Quinn gags and flushes quickly before standing up. She goes back to her room to quickly grab her toothpaste and toothbrush. As she's brushing her teeth, she feels a prickling on her neck and glances up at the mirror. She lets out a short scream muffled by foam that she hurriedly spits into the sink. She chokes and starts coughing into the sink. Looking up and being greeted by the sight of a very rumpled, very sleepy looking Rachel Berry was bad enough. It was worse when the girl was barely illuminated by the bathroom light and just standing there creepily in the doorway. "What the hell, woman? Do you really want to give me a heart attack?" Quinn hisses when she gets her heartbeat and her voice back under control. Rachel shrugs and stifles a yawn. It probably wasn't the best idea to come out when she heard Quinn moving around noisily outside her room, but she couldn't get back to sleep when she heard the blonde throwing up. She had debated with herself over the merits of assuming Quinn needed help while throwing up and going back to sleep. In the end, she got up, but by then the girl was already brushing her teeth, so she stood in the open doorway and admired the sight in front of her. Quinn hadn't changed from what she
was wearing that morning, so she was still attired in her dark jeans and her hoodie. And damn if Rachel wasn't a teenager and pumped full of hormones and Quinn Fabray had a really great ass. Then Quinn must have sensed Rachel's eyes on her (ass) because she had snapped up to look in the mirror and spotted Rachel. Admittedly, Rachel Berry wearing short shorts and a tank top wouldn't have scared anyone, but her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were hooded. The lack of light cast deep shadows that made Rachel look like a (short) vampire. "Berry...' Quinn sighs and leans back against the countertop, 'I get that you're kind of socially not there, but you do not abruptly appear in the doorway of a bathroom and just stand there, okay? You knock or you cough or something. You do not act like a creepy stalker. Got it?" Rachel half yawns and half nods in response, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. She wonders what she is supposed to do now that won't appear to be 'socially not there'. It wasn't her fault she had spent more time singing and watching musicals than actually talking to her (nonexistent) friends. A thought strikes her. Confidently, she asks, "Are you hungry? Would you like me to cook you something to eat?"
Quinn blinks and squints at the girl standing in the doorway of the bathroom like a stalker. "Did you just offer to cook me something to eat?" Confused, Rachel asks back, "Is that another social don't?" Quinn shakes her head. "Not really. It's just weird. You offering to cook me something to eat. Plus, I can't really see you being able to cook properly. I can see you baking and dancing around the kitchen singing because that involves singing and it's so you but I can't see you actually cooking. It's just weird thinking of you in an apron, that's all...' Quinn rambles. She knows she's rambling, but somehow the thought of Rachel Berry cooking just sends chills up her spine. She wonders if she should ask about where the house phone is so that she can call the fire department in case of an emergency. Rachel huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. "My daddy Hiram is a really good cook, I'll have you know. One time he tried to teach me how to cook crepes and I threw a fit because they wouldn't fold properly. He confiscated my Wicked soundtrack CD and spent two hours showing me how to do it. Now I am very adept at making what I have dubbed the 'Very Berry Berry Special(ii)'." Rachel waggles her eyebrows. "I could make you one now if you like."
"The Very Berry Berry Special. Seriously, Rachel?" Rachel nods and looks expectantly at Quinn, who bursts out laughing without warning. Rachel looks uncertainly at the laughing girl and frowns slightly. She had read up extensively on pregnancy and she knew about the severe mood swings, but there hadn't been anything in there about pregnant woman laughing hysterically without reason. Unless that counted as a mood swing. Rachel furrows her eyebrows and exasperatedly asks, "What is so funny, Quinn? Also, you have to stop laughing because my dads are asleep and they have to get up early tomorrow morning to go to work and-" Quinn holds her hand up and gasps for air. "It's just that the 'Very Berry Berry Special' sounds like something a porn star could do. And you did that weird thing with your eyebrows and it just..." Quinn starts laughing again. It's so inappropriate, but in her pregnant state of mind, it was hilarious. Puck would have appreciated the joke. Rachel pouts and rolls her eyes, glancing down the hallway at her fathers' bedroom. "Do you want me to make you some or not?" Quinn is about to refuse but the she realizes that she is actually kind of hungry, and she probably shouldn't try cooking anything herself in the middle of the night in a kitchen she had never cooked in before. Plus, there was that broken wrist of hers to think about.
"Okay, sure. Thanks, Rachel. I should uh, probably shower first, though." Nodding, Rachel starts moving to the stairs, but then Quinn mumbles something unintelligible. "Yes, Quinn?" Blushing slightly, Quinn clears her throat and holds up her right arm. "I was wondering if you could help me with something. Your hoodie is a little small and my arm is kind of chunky right now... And you should probably chuck it in the wash as soon as you can. I really hope my blood isn't on it. Can you just... tug it over my cast?" Rachel's eyes widen and she tries to stop the flush from going past her ears. She swallows convulsively a few times and shrugs weakly. "It's not a problem,' she mutters and steps forward. The next day at school, Rachel and Quinn walk in together, Quinn with dark circles under her eyes and a light bruise on her forehead. It was a bad idea for Rachel to make crepes, because even though they tasted amazing, Quinn ended up sitting at the kitchen counter eating and talking about her parents until 4am. Rachel regards it as a great learning experience, but Quinn regards it as a great loss of sleep. It was hard to stop, though. Once she started ranting about her dad she couldn't seem to stop. The stories just kept coming. Rachel also learnt a lot about
Amelia Fabray, who Quinn loved and admired but who barely spoke to any of her family anymore. She gathered that the Fabrays' were a pretty messed up family. When they went to sleep at 4am, Quinn cursed the fact that they had school the next day. Unfortunately, she was woken up again at 6am by Rachel Berry's workout music. She had groaned and stumbled over to Rachel's room before throwing the door open. She was greeted by pale yellow walls covered with posters mostly Broadway, but with a few unexpected rock bands. Then she saw Rachel Berry not stopping either her workout on her elliptical or her stupid iPod. "Berry,' Quinn groaned, 'It's 6 o' clock in the fucking morning." Quinn had somehow lost her inhibitions over swearing after cussing her father out the night before. She was also never very articulate in the morning so she just let whatever was in her mind slip out. "I know,' Rachel had panted in time with her movements. "It doesn't matter *Pant* what time it is *Pant* one should always *Pant* get the requisite *Pant* amount of exer *Pant* exercise every morn*Pant* morning." Quinn had thrown her hands up in the air. "But you only slept two hours! How the hell did you even manage to wake up?"
"Will power,' was all Rachel said before upping her speed. Quinn had gaped at Rachel then gave up and stumbled back to her room. On the way to the other end of the hallway both of Rachel's dads had cheerfully bid Quinn a good morning and headed down the stairs. She waved back weakly then collapsed in her bed, the pillows covering her head. Did no one in the Berry home need sleep? The answer would appear to be a big 'no'. She groaned again and forced her way back into another hour of sleep. At 7.30am, Rachel gently pushed a sleepy Quinn Fabray into her car. "Yes, Quinn, we have to go to school. You already skipped school yesterday, and I think it would be a very bad idea, not to mention it won't look good on your record, to skip as much school as you can. And we have glee today, so you should go. Duck! Don't hit your hea- Oh crap, sorry." "Oww." "Bye, Berry,' Quinn nudges Rachel's shoulder. 'I have to go talk to Brit and Santana." Rachel hums, nods and keeps digging through her locker, looking for her Spanish book that is supposed to be there, but somehow isn't. She suspiciously checks the lock and wonders whether her locker had been tampered with. Again. At her own locker, Quinn pulls out a few books and
sticks some back in. When she closes the door, she sees Puck leaning against the locker next to her. He quickly turns and juts his hip out. "'Sup, MILF?" he greets cockily. The effect is not quite what he wants to achieve because his voice sounds like his nose is blocked. Finn could pack a pretty good punch when he wanted to. Quinn just rolls her eyes and starts walking. Puck's smirk drops and he gently grabs her forearm to pull her back, carefully avoiding her broken wrist. "What do you want, Puck? Was getting me drunk and pregnant not enough? Do you want me to name my baby Rumplestiltskin or something now?" Quinn would be the first to admit that she has no idea where that came from, but she would also add that three hours of sleep is not conducive to intelligent conversation. "What? No! I wanted to... I wanted to apologize, y'know? I'm sorry about that night. And I wanna help. I know you're gonna have doctor's bills and vitamins or whatever, and I have a job, y'know? I can help,' Puck pleads, 'And no, I don't want you to name the kid Rumplestiltskin. That little dude was evil,' he adds in disgust. "You could call him Peyton Manning FabrayPuckerman or something like that though." Quinn narrows her eyes at him. "I don't need, or want, anymore of your help, Puckerman. Your 'help' is what got me pregnant in the first place. I'm not naming my
baby after a football player, either. I am not naming this baby, period, because I am not keeping this baby. And just so you know, he is a she,'Quinn smiles involuntarily, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. Slumping back against the lockers, Puck sighs. "She, huh?" A chuckle escapes him. "I guess she won't come out with a Mohawk, will she?" Quinn shakes her head. "Thank god, no." She leans against her own locker, lightly brushing her shoulder against his. They stand in silence for a little while, watching the people walk past watch them curiously. Then, rolling her eyes, she imitates Puck's sigh. "Okay,' she whispers. Cocking his head at her, Puck's eyes widen slightly. "Okay?" Quinn nods. "Yeah. Okay. You're right, for once. I probably do need help, as much as it pains me to admit it. Once I find a job, though-" "Woah, slow it, babe. You're pregnant,' Puck holds his hands up, 'and that means no heavy lifting, no working, which means no job." Quinn scowls heavily at him and punches him in the shoulder. Hard. He winces but is man enough to not grab it. "I'm pregnant,not disabled. And there are plenty of people who are pregnant and work. Some
work until the day they give birth, you sexist, Mohawked loser,' she shoots back, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but their babies come out depressed or something,' Puck argues defensively. "Look, you don't need to find a job. There aren't a lot of pools around for me to clean but I can get another job as a waiter or something. And uh,' Puck frowns and clenches his fists a few times. Quinn looks at him warily. "Yes?" "You wanna go out sometime, Fabray?" His bursts out hopefully. His smile is charming and sweet, but Quinn doesn't feel anything. She doesn't even get the slightest bit excited over the fact that Noah Puckerman, ranked hottest guy in the school, is asking her out. She's just not interested. She looks at him with an inscrutable look in her eyes and curses him inwardly. He just had to make things awkward, didn't he? Quinn huffs and gently takes his hand. "I can't. I'm sorry, Puck, but I just really can't do relationships right now. And you don't actually want to go out with me; you just wanna have sex. And after what happened the last time, I'm not going to have sex for a long, long time. With anyone." Quinn lets out a weak laugh to diffuse the tension, but the look on Puck's face is moody. "I'm not always about sex, Quinn. You don't know me. I take care of my people, and that baby is 'one of my people' so that puts you under 'one of my people' too."
He pulls his hand out of hers. "Whatever, y'know. Just send me your doctor's bills when you...Whatever,' Puck says stonily before turning the corner and stalking off. He gives in to the temptation to slam Jacob Ben Israel into the lockers. It doesn't help the heavy feeling in his heart, but it brings his badass scowl back on his face instead of his broken-hearted expression. The Puckasaurus didn't do brokenhearted. Quinn stands there, confused and slightly, inexplicably guilty. She doesn't know why she feels like she's the one at fault. Then a short, brunette figure covered completely from head to toe in purple Slushie races past her down the hallway. Frowning, Quinn turns around and sees Santana ambling towards her, Rachel's pink bag in one hand and a Spanish textbook in the other. Brittany is next to her, her arm around Santana's waist. Quinn scowls at Santana, who quickly snaps at her. "Hey, I didn't do anything, okay? She just chucked these on the floor and Brittany wanted to pick it up but I didn't want her to turn into the next Dame Edna Everage through contamination so I grabbed them instead." The pregnant blonde's scowl just grows deeper. "What the hell happened?" she growls. "Dave Karofsky had this giant bucket of Slushie with him and he poured it over Rachel. Then he threw this textbook at her and said something like, "I'm not afraid
of tubers. Bring it." Brittany frowns and squints at Santana. "San, what're tubers?" Santana smirks and hands Quinn the bag and the book. Quinn raises her eyebrow and her broken wrist, which makes Santana's smirk die and a scowl replaces the smirk. "Tubers are plants like potatoes and stuff, Brit. And Karofsky said Tubbers, not tubers. He meant Quinn,' Santana explains, raising her eyebrow at Quinn, who exhales noisily. Quinn grips her books tightly in her hand. "That jerk!" she explodes. Then she goes on a rampage for Dave Karofsky's head, ignoring Santana's furious yelling behind her for her to stop, that she was a foot shorter than him and who the hell cared about Rachel Berry getting Slushied anyway. She ignores the slight throbbing in her right arm and walks blindly down the hallway until she sees Dave Karofsky laughing obnoxiously in front of Rachel's locker, his football buddies huddled around him. There is a puddle of melted purple Slushie next to his feet, a discarded Styrofoam box next to the puddle. "Hey!" she calls loudly. Karofsky smirks widely and turns, his arms outstretched. "What up, Virgin Mary? Oh, oh, should I bow at your feet? Or maybe I should take off my jacket so that you walk over the Slushie?" He guffaws and his friends follow suit.
No one would have dared talk to Quinn Fabray like that two days earlier and she didn't like it one bit. There was this red haze of anger in her eyes that blurred everything except Dave Karofsky's stupid, ugly, laughing head. Later she will say that she's pregnant and hormonal, but right then all she knows is that the ruined textbook, covered in something gross that she doesn't want to know about, Rachel's Spanish textbook, is in her hand. She will say that she didn't realize she had grabbed it from a reluctant Santana. She will say she forgot the textbook was thick and heavy. What she won't say is that she's sorry she rolled the textbook up as best as she could and slammed it over Karofsky's head as hard as she could. She won't even bother apologizing for kicking him between the legs. She will say she's glad she did it because the bastard deserved it. She'll furiously tell a nervous, borderline horrified/terrified Principal Figgins that the next person who threw a Slushie at someone would be reported to the authorities for assault, and the school would be sued. But right then and there, there was a shrieking Karofsky rolling around on the ground, furiously yelling threats at her. It mostly goes along the line of 'You fucking bitch, I'll fucking kill you and your goddamn illegitimate baby!' and 'I'll rip your fucking balls off!' and 'Cunt!' which Quinn finds very offensive. She was surprised Karofsky knew the word illegitimate, but being called a 'cunt' somehow pissed
the shit out of her. She throws the textbook hard and it lands next to his face with a loud thump and a squelch because it landed in the puddle of Slushie which splashed up and landed on Karofsky's face. Chain effects were great. "Karofsky, I'm going to tell you again. No more fucking Slushies. I swear to God if I see you ever throw a Slushie at anyone ever again I will rip your fucking balls off. I'm sick of watching you bastards throw things at people like there aren't consequences at all!" The textbook is covered in this slimy substance Santana really doesn't want to think about so she throws it on the floor. Berry probably didn't want it back, anyway. She decides to wash her hand with bleach as soon as she can. Then she snaps her fingers in front of Quinn's angry, dazed face. Quinn blinks rapidly and blushes. "What?" Santana shakes her head and rolls her eyes dramatically. "Nothing, I guess, unless you count you standing there for two minutes ignoring everything I just said and acting like you have a mental disorder." Sighing, Quinn rolls her shoulders. She wishes she really could go on a rampage against Dave Karofsky, but she was raised a pacifist and until yesterday had never really fought anyone before. If you could call what she did the day before 'fighting'. Plus, seriously going up against Dave Karofsky would have cost her
a lot more than a broken wrist. "He's a jerk. Stupid asshole," Quinn grumbles moodily as they begin walking to their class. Quinn and Brittany had Spanish and Santana had a free period. She was only there that early because Brittany had called her that morning and whined about how she had left her Daffy Duck toy in Santana's house and could Santana please bring it to her by first period? And lo and behold, there Santana was. "San, do me a favour,' Quinn says, smiling as sweetly as she could at Santana. The Latina sighs and nods, a wary look on her face. As if it wasn't bad enough she was lugging Rachel goddamn Berry's bag around for no good reason. "Go beat the crap out of Dave Karofsky and then go find Berry. She's probably showering in the locker room and I think her clothes are probably in her bag." Santana's mouth drops comically and she stops where she is, the students behind her parting and walking around her as though they were afraid she would bite their heads off. She might have, really, so it was a smart assumption to make. "What the hell, Q?' Santana splutters, 'You want me to find Berry and... And help her? What's wrong with you? Oh my god, you don't like her, do you?" Smiling, Brittany just hugs Santana around the shoulders and says with a pout, "C'mon, Santana. You don't have anything else to do, anyway. I'll make
out with you in the locker rooms later?" Brittany offers. "You'd make out with me in the locker room anyway, B,' Santana smirks, then turns back to Quinn. "Seriously, Quinn, what the hell?" Quinn shrugs and makes to walk in the classroom, but Santana grabs her by her cast and doesn't let go. She could either cause herself a lot of pain or stay and answer the Latina's questions. Damn Santana and her sneaky ways. Quinn stops and whirls around to face Santana. "I just don't like it, okay? Karofsky Slushied her because of me and... And maybe I'm living with her because I ran away from my parents so just-" "What the hell, Quinn Fabray?"Santana sounds absolutely furious. "You moved in with Stubbles? Why didn't you call me? Why the hell-" Quinn eases her hand out of Santana's grip, or she tries to, but then the other girl's grip tightens. "No way, you are not getting out of this. Come with me,' Santana snaps and starts dragging Quinn away, presumably to the locker room. People part and give way to the fuming Santana. There aren't many people left in the hall anyway; most people have already gone to class. "Santana, I have to go to class. I'll tell you later. Let me go,' Quinn whines. Santana could sometimes be a pansy. She has this soft spot for blondes, after all...
The Cheerio shakes her head, not bothering to turn to face Quinn. Brittany just smiles innocently and follows behind Quinn. "It's okay. It's Mr. Schuester's class. He won't even care,' she says helpfully. Quinn grumbles all the way to the locker room, where the sound of a shower and the quiet sobbing of a girl can be heard. Santana noisily puts Rachel's bag on one of the benches and a loud clang rings out. The sobs silence themselves immediately. "Hey, Man Hands. Your stupid bag's out here, okay?" Santana calls out, an irritated tone in her voice. A sniffle, then a soft "Okay. Thanks, Santana." Santana just scowls and leans against the lockers. "Spill, Fabray,' she growls. Brittany plops down on the bench in front of her, pulling Quinn down with her. Quinn protests by pointing at the showers, a pleading look on her face. "I don't care,' Santana shrugs, 'And since you seem to like her so much, you probably shouldn't care either." Quinn is confused at her best friend's reasoning, but gives up. Arguing with Santana could sometimes be like arguing with a brick wall. She slumps. "Fine,' she growls. She is about to speak, then she hears Rachel timidly call out her name. "Quinn, if you are Quinn, could you pass me my bag and a towel, please?"
Santana's eyebrows almost fly off her forehead when Quinn gets up and grabs a clean towel and Rachel's bag and walks towards the showers without a word. Quinn walks to the second last stall before she find Rachel. The girl has a depressed look on her face when she reaches out from behind the door to take her things from Quinn. "Thanks,' is all the brunette mumbles before slamming the door close. Quinn is taken-aback, but she just furrows her eyebrows and walks back to Santana. This is going to be so very awkward, she thinks. She sits and gazes up at a bemused Santana. "Look, in short, I had breakfast with her yesterday and we talked and stuff then I came back and broke my wrist, right? Then my parents found out I was pregnant and wanted to send me to China and Rachel convinced me to stay with her. My mom called and I told my dad to 'fuck off' and... Yeah. That's it, basically." Quinn smiles slyly at the mind-boggled look Santana gives her. Brittany just grins and grabs Santana around the waist. "Okay, Quinn, thanks. We're gonna go make out in the choir room though, so you can make out with Rachel in here." Then she pulls a speechless Santana out of the locker room, not letting go of her waist, leaving a blushing and spluttering Quinn Fabray behind. "I'm not going to make out with Rachel, Brittany!" she yells. She can't help the reluctant smile on her face, though. Her two friends had always been very open about their relationship
around her. A soft cough behind her reminds her that Rachel was still in the locker room. Crap. Quinn turns slowly, a grimace on her face. "That... You didn't... Brittany...' her voice fails her when she sees the look on Rachel's face. Her eyes are blank and emotionless and swollen. Her hair is damp and kind of depressing. Rachel wrings her hands and fidgets with the bag on her shoulder. "Thank you, Quinn. You should go back to class now." She sounds like a robot and she just stares at a point above Quinn's left ear. Her shoulders are hunched defensively and this shocks Quinn most of all. She had never seen the girl standing with anything but perfect posture before. "What did Karofsky do, Rachel?" Quinn probes, pulling her legs up to sit Indian-style on the bench. She pats the seat beside her, but Rachel ignores it. "Slushie me, what does it look like? Just go back to class, Quinn. It's nothing that hasn't happened before." Outside, she is calm and controlled, but inside, Rachel is seething and angry at everyone. She had thought that after Quinn's outburst the day before, the Slushie attacks might finally stop. She had been foolish to hope so naively, because it just got worse. Getting roughly 15 Slushies dumped on her in one shot had not been fun. She usually didn't say anything
when she got Slushied, just shut her eyes and waited until she could see well enough to stumble to the nearest sink, but this time the Slushies had immediately soaked through her clothes and plastered itself to every inch of her. She had shrieked at the feeling of the cold, sticky ice in her eyes, in her shirt, in her hair, in every goddamn place, then she felt something hard hit her in the stomach. "Here's your stupid textbook, RuPaul. Maybe next time you won't draw hearts around Finn Hudson's name in it, huh? Oh, by the way, your locker was fucking easy to break into, and uh,' Karofsky pretended to blush, then laughed, 'I totally jizzed all over your book. Have fun studying Spanish now. And I'm not afraid of Tubbers. You can tell the bitch to bring it on." Then, with his gang of douchebags laughing with him, he strutted off. Rachel squinted at her textbook through her purple haze and saw that it indeed looked sticky, or maybe that was just her own screwed up vision. Her bag, mostly Slushie-less, was dropped on the ground and then she started running. The tears in her eyes began to mix with the corn syrup and it burned. The harsh laughter around her was horrible to hear. "Rachel?' Quinn's soft voice brings Rachel out of her trance. "What?' she snaps, 'Look, I know you're trying to help or something, but just forget it, okay? Nothing in this
school is going to change. The jocks will continue to be complete Neanderthals and the losers, like me, will continue to be losers. It won't ever change, because everyone is too scared of everyone else and what people will do. It's a screwed up system and none of the teachers ever do anything because they're all scared of the students. We're 16 years old! The teachers act more like children than most of us do. And it's Lima, Ohio,' she sneers, 'where the parents of students know the teachers and the parents of the teachers and everyone's related and everyone with power just squishes everyone else without. It's an age old system and it won't ever change. So don't, Quinn, okay? Maybe you're different, maybe you're not, but just a week ago you would have been laughing right there along with everyone else. So forget it. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just another day in McKinley High." No one is more shocked by Rachel's outburst than Rachel herself, but she just slumps her shoulders and mutters, "Just leave it, Quinn,' then she stalks out of the locker room. (*) Are all song lyrics from Lily Allen's 'Fuck You'. I'm sorry if some of you guys don't like that song or find it offensive in any way, though I have no idea why you'd find it offensive. I love that song. So... I know this chapter is kind of depressing, but that's how it came out and I don't think there's any other way it could be. I don't know. This chapter just wasn't coming to me,
and I'm sorry for the delay. I don't think you need lengthy explanations on why I used Lily's song for this chapter. It's angry and angst-filled and everyone's just angry, okay? (i)I think it'd be good to tell you here that Quinn comes from the name 'Cuinn' or 'Conn' which means 'wisdom'. That's what the Internet tells me, anyway. And that Charlotte can be interpreted as 'strong man/masculine' but generally has been understood to mean 'strong woman'. The closest thing to Fabray I could find was Fabry, which they use to mean blacksmiths or iron-workers. So 'Quinn Charlotte Fabray' is a seriously powerful name. I totes know what I'm gonna call my kid in the future. Except for the Fabray part. Thou shalt not steal my future baby's name. (ii)This isn't exactly what I had in mind, but if you want to make Rachel's Very Berry Berry Special you can check out this recipe. And once you've made it you can tell me whether it's Very Berry Berry Special. ;) Innuendos- I love them. Find(dot)myrecipes(dot)com/recipes/recipefinder(dot) dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=1673025 Also, just a heads up, there's going to be a lot of Karofsky anger soon. Quinn VS Karofsky starts now. I might have to up the rating on this story... Oh god, this is so long, but I really hope you guys
don't hate this chapter. I don't even know if I should post this. Review and tell me. The title is Left Outside Alone – Anastacia, but the entire chapter was loosely inspired by the emotions of four songs: Left Outside Alone, Teenagers-My Chemical Romance, Veronicas-When it all falls apart. By the end of the school day, Quinn Fabray has thrown up twice, fallen asleep in class once, caught sight of Rachel Berry's blank face three times, caught up to her not once, and seen neither hide nor hair of Dave Karofsky. Needless to say, by the time it's time for glee club, her hormones have upped her annoyance level and she's frustrated as hell. Her frustration only increases when she walks into the choir room and the girl she's trying to talk to isn't there yet. That Rachel Berry is for once not 15 minutes early for glee is shocking and strange. In fact, glee starts in 5 minutes and the only one missing is Rachel. Even Brittany and Santana are already seating there, but maybe it's just because they had been making out in the choir room way before anyone else got there. Quinn glares at them suspiciously and gives them a wide berth, sitting behind Mike and Matt instead. Santana gives the 'you're an idiot' look to Quinn sitting on the opposite side of the room. Quinn glares again and then ignores the girl. Puck, sitting behind Brittany, folds him arms and stares stonily ahead of him. His feet are propped on
top of the chair next to Brittany and he looks entirely unpleasant. Finn just sits at the drums and hits the bass drum with one drumstick absently. The foursome sit in front of the drums, looking bored. Quinn realizes that everyone looks bored of out their minds. Was it always like that when Rachel wasn't there to be annoying? Quinn half grimaces and half smirks on the inside when it hits her that the short diva was actually the life of Glee. At the very least, when she was there, there was someone to watch in fascinated horror. Without her, everyone just looked seriously...lifeless. Mr. Schuester waltzes into the room with a grin on his face that turns into a small frown when he sees how utterly morose everyone looks. "What's up, you guys? I can feel your boredom from where I'm standing." Finn yawns but everyone else just shrugs or ignores him. Mr. Schuester takes in all the glum faces and then looks confused. "Where's Rachel? Isn't she usually early?" With that, everyone seems to get over their lack of energy. A low buzz originates from a curious foursome and Artie speaks up. "It's weird but... She's not here." Irritated, Quinn snaps snarkily, "And you all justnoticed that? Talk about observant." Mercedes looks offended and Kurt snaps back, "It's
not like we want the diva here lording over us. But I was wondering why it was so quiet." At this point, there is almost smoke seeping out of Quinn's ears. Angry hormones, check. Everyone, including Mr. Schuester, is leaning on the edge of their seat, waiting to see how Quinn Fabray is going to blow up. Her eyebrows slant into a dangerous 'V' shape and her mouth is bared into a snarl. Kurt abruptly realizes it was probably a bad idea to antagonize the pregnant blonde. She opens her mouth to say something that would insult Kurt and possibly make him cry and throw himself out a window, but then Rachel Berry stumbles into the room. Literally, she stumbles like she's been pushed and, unable to regain her balance, falls to the floor. It's only then that they notice she is covered in bright pink paint, and there is a hulking Dave Karofsky behind her, blocking the doorway. Azimio, his African American best friend, just as hulking as he is, stands behind him. Several more football players stand behind him. He slurs loudly, "Wassup, loser club? Hey, maybe next time you'll keep your little animal where she belongs- in a zoo!" Hooting with laughter, Karofsky high-fives his friend and they start to stalk off. Fuming with anger, Mr. Schuester plus all of the glee clubbers call out something angry at the same time. Mercedes growls something about 'white trash', which
is probably racist but also quite probably true. Kurt scowls and Artie tries to look intimidating. Quinn yells something that sounds like 'asshole' and Santana throws 'bitch' out there. Puck just slams his fist into the palm of his hand and stands up fast, knocking his chair over. Finn just looks stunned. Karofsky throws an arm up and waves at them, still walking away. It's only when Mr. Schuester furiously shouts out "Karofsky! Stop right there!" that Karofsky halts and turns around. His eyes look like they were about to pop out of his head. Wide and dilated, it looked almost coal black. The white parts that could be seen were red and bloodshot. He sways slightly on his feet and he slams a meaty hand on the doorway to steady himself. "The hell you want, man?" Karofsky spits out. The other football players back away from him slightly. They hadn't intended on going up against a teacher. Karofsky, looking absolutely stoned, didn't seem to realize that Mr. Schuester was the one talking to him. He squints and then his mouth opens slightly. "Mister Schue! Hey, sup, man?" He attempts a grotesque grin, which results in him looking like a maniac. Now worried as well as angered, Mr. Schuester steps forward and stares up into Karofsky's eyes. "Are you drunk? Are you... Are you high on something, Karofsky?" Tottering on his feet, Karofsky manages a 'Course
not.' His alcohol-tainted breath floats over to Mr. Schuester, who grimaces and takes a step back. Mr. Schuester looks behind Karofsky at his teammates. "Is he stoned?" They shuffle their feet and glare at each other and at Mr. Schuester, but don't say anything. A few at the back quietly detach themselves from the group and slink away. Mr. Schuester quickly takes their names down, determined to make sure none of the jocks get away. In a steely voice, Mr. Schuester repeats his question. "He's not. He's just being a dick. C'mon, man,' Azimio steps up to pull Karofsky away, 'Seeya around, losers." Karofsky, not appreciating someone trying to move him, whacks Azimio on the head and tries to scowl. "What the fuck you talking about, retard? Course I'm stoned! And it's fucking awesome!" Then Karofsky bursts out laughter, then sways again. Shaking his head in disapproval, Mr. Schuester gestures for two shamefaced football players to come forward. "Take him to the nurse. I'm pretty sure he's going to pass out soon." They step forward and grab a sagging Karofsky by the shoulders. "The rest of you are coming with me." "Where?" One of the jocks ask defensively. His name was Allen and he didn't actually like throwing things at
people, which made him sort of an outcast among his team mates. He only went along with Operation Fuck Rachel Berry Up By Throwing Crap At Her so that he wouldn't get crap thrown at himself. He absolutely did not appreciate getting busted. "To see Principal Figgins. What you all have done to Rachel can be constituted as assault. Karofsky will probably be charged for possession. Some of you might be as well." He had noticed Jason and Michael's hand creeping into their pockets as if to check whether their stash was still with them. "I don't think you understand the scope of what you've done. This is serious; it's not a joke. You could have seriously harmed Rachel. Now, go!" Mr. Schuester's tone of voice is something none of them have heard before. There is barely controlled anger fizzling beneath his calm voice. The jocks, now extremely uncomfortable, shove each other a few times and call out derogatory names at each other while slumping to the Principal's office. Some of them mutter that it wasn't even their idea in the first. Mr. Schuester turns back to look at the glee clubbers, who all look somewhat furious, shocked and flabbergasted by what just happened. Rachel is still on the floor, her knees pulled up tightly against her chest, her face tear-stained and paint-splattered. Her hair, sticky and sloppy with paint, drip pink paint onto the floor. Her face is obscured by her hair, but if it wasn't, everyone would be able to see the completely
broken expression on her face. The floor around Rachel is already messy and paint-stained. He sighs and feels his heart go out to her. No one deserved that. "The rest of you help clean... everything,' Mr. Schuester says helplessly, 'And help Rachel out, okay?" The brunette looks blankly up at the teacher then slowly faces the floor again. With that, Mr. Schuester walks off after the jocks. The glee clubbers stare at each other, none of them quite sure who was going to help Rachel out. Finn takes a step forward, then hesitates and glances at Puck, who looks at Quinn, who glares at all of them and lets out a frustrated growl. "All of you suck so bad. Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, come with me." She narrows her eyes at them and all three of them gulp simultaneously and stand up. The three of them follow behind her as she quickly walks towards Rachel. Behind her, she hears Brittany whisper to Santana, "I think she's broken," and Santana's hum of agreement. "C'mon, Rachel, can you get up?" she asks, her voice suddenly losing the bite that had been there for the past 3 hours. Rachel turns her head to stare up at Quinn, her eyes blank. She doesn't respond. The entire club watches as Quinn does not insult, slap, or curse Rachel until she did what she told the girl to do. Instead, they watch as Quinn gently takes Rachel's paint covered hand and pulls her up. They watch as Quinn leads the
broken brunette out of the room and down the hallway, trailing bright pink paint all the way. They leave it there, none of them wanting to clean it up. The paint signified something to them. A turning point of the school, maybe, or maybe just a reminder of the idiocy and cruelty that mankind possessed. They stop by her locker to get some clothes, but Rachel just mutters, "Forget it. I don't have any more clothes. I've already changed once today." Quinn's eyes harden, but she doesn't say anything. She just leads Rachel to the locker room. Tina, Mercedes and Kurt follow behind, still too stunned and confused to say anything. Watching Quinn Fabray take care of Rachel Berry was plain freaky. Quinn tugs Rachel's completely ruined argyle sweater off. Kurt is tempted to make a snarky comment about argyle, but decides against it this time. Rachel is left in a now-pink tank top and her argyle skirt. Quinn pushes the half-dressed girl to the shower stall and Rachel obligingly slumps into the shower. Pulling off her own jacket to reveal a polo shirt, Quinn hands the jacket to Tina. "Dress her in this when she's done. And see if you can find her some pants or something.
"I have a spare pair of shorts in my locker,' Kurt grudgingly admits. "Go get it,' Quinn commands. Kurt flees the locker room gladly. Tina and Mercedes regard each other curiously, and Quinn exhales in frustration. "Stay with her and don't let her break down. I'll be back." There is a dangerous, scary glint in Quinn's eyes. The two of them nod quickly and step away. They have no desire to go up against Quinn Fabray. They let her storm out of the locker room without saying a word. As she storms down the stairs, Quinn can see a crowd of football players taking up all the space in Principal Figgins' office. Mr. Schuester stands next to Figgins, talking heatedly and gesturing wildly. Figgins looks tired and vaguely angry. He holds up a hand to silence Mr. Schuester and starts to say something. Before he can finish, however, a furious Quinn Fabray slams the door to his office open, his secretary weakly protesting behind her. Figgins blinks and says, "Miss Fabray, I'm very sorry, but you'll have to wait outside. As you can see, I'm very busy right-" "Yeah, I can see what you're busy with,' she growls so threateningly that Figgins shuts up immediately. 'Now, Principal Figgins, you're going to put all of these
people under suspension for at least a week. You are going to expel Dave Karofsky. And then I'm going to kick his stupid ass. If you do not, well, my father works at a law firm. You don't want him coming down here, do you?" It's quiet for awhile, then one of the jocks snorts and mumbles something that sounds like 'Yeah right, Preggo. Bring it.' Quinn whirls around in a glory of blonde hair and steps right into the crowd of football players. "What the hell is wrong with you assholes? What will it take until you get it? Does someone need to bring a gun here and shoot some of you in the head until you understand how not to be a barbarian? Is it going to take one of you getting arrested until you understand it's not a fucking game? Do you need someone to die from one of your stupid pranks before you use your admittedly small brains to think about the consequences first? Is that it?" she challenges fiercely, her fists clenched at her sides. Mr. Schuester murmurs "Language, Quinn," from behind her. About half of the jocks look away from her fierce gaze, shame showing on their faces. The others vary between casting angry glances at her and regretful looks at the ground.
"What,' Quinn snaps furiously, 'now you have nothing to say? What happened to all the bravado you dumbshits had? What happened to the bravery you had in 15 of you dumping a pot of paint over a girl? Well, say something, oh manly men,' she mocks, venom dripping off her words. "Quinn,' Mr. Schuester starts haltingly, but he's interrupted by Azimio. "Shut up, Fabray. On Monday you would have laughed at what we did,' he retorts defensively. Quinn looks like she's about to throw herself at him to scratch his eyes out, but Mr. Schuester steps in front of her. "Quinn, c'mon, you've made your point,' he says, holding his hands out. Glaring at him, Quinn gives Azimio the finger, but backs down. It hits her that no, even on Monday, she wouldn't have laughed. Slushies were one thing, but what Dave Karofsky did today was way over the top. Even Santana wouldn't have approved of this 'prank'. It wasn't funny, it was just plain cruel. "How serious a condition is Miss Berry in, Miss Fabray?" Figgins suddenly asks. Quinn shrugs and steps away from the circle of testosterone-fuelled macho idiots. She grimaces and says, 'I left her to shower in the locker room. She
wasn't saying a lot and she looked kind of… not Rachel Berry at all. She looked depressed,' Quinn admits. "Figgins, this cannot go on any longer! My students are persecuted and bullied and tormented every single day. You've never done anything about it. They threw paint on her, Figgins! They throw Slushies at her every day. This has to stop, now," Mr. Schuester emphasizes. Figgins sighs. "It was just a little bit of paint, William. They're teenagers; these things happen." Quinn slams her hand on top of his desk, startling everyone in the office with the loud bang. "It was not a little bit of paint. It was a lot. It was enough to cover her completely. They could have blinded Berry. And what if she was allergic to something in the paint? They could have killed her. She will be pressing charges. This is assault, Principal Figgins. And if you don't do anything about it, I will,' she hisses. "Alright, alright. I understand where you're coming from. I will speak to this Dave Karofsky personally. I would also like to see Miss Berry, Miss Fabray. If you could bring her here?" Figgins reluctantly asks. He honestly had no wish to deal with Rachel Berry; he remembered what happened the last time he had to deal with the girl. He had gotten a terrible headache that refused to go away for the rest of the day.
Quinn gives Mr. Schuester a look that says very simply, 'Do not let these… these assholes get away with this,' then she walks out of the office. Back in the locker room, Rachel is sitting numbly on one of the benches. Dressed in Quinn's jacket and Kurt's shorts, she curls into herself to keep warm. Kurt, Tina and Mercedes, unsure of how to deal with a quiet Rachel Berry, stand together and whisper furiously to each other. Rachel catches words like, 'the hell did Karofsky', 'asshole', 'broken'. She doesn't look like it, but under her catatonic appearance, her mind is racing. In dramatic movie sequences, she sees Karofsky pulling her behind the bleachers. She sees his cruel smile and the paint coming down from somewhere above her. She hears the howling laughter from the football team echoing in her ears again and again. And then she feels Karofsky pressing against her, his breath hot and smelling of alcohol against her own mouth. She remembers shutting her mouth as tight as she could and punching against his chest. She feels his hand rough on her chest pushing her down onto the ground. She hears the whining of a few of his teammates telling him to cut it out, that it wasn't funny anymore, that he was going too far. She remembers Karofsky snarling at them to fuck off, then he was yanking her
up and dragging her back into the school, his lackeys trailing behind him. She remembers Karofsky hurrying to change out of his clothes where they were stained pink from pressing against her. She feels the thump of her heart beating just as hard as it had when she felt Karofsky's weight on her. Every detail was magnified and fresh in her mind. "D'you think Karofsky... y'know. You think he'd go that far?" she hears Mercedes whisper anxiously. She tilts her head back slowly and stares at the ceiling. Yes, Karofsky would have gone that far. She remembers his eyes. There was no empathy or uncertainty at the time. There was only a maniacal gleam that made him look like an animal. Rachel hears Tina calling her name softly, as though from a distance. She turns her head to face the Asian girl. "Rachel, hey. D-Did Karofsky d-do anything to you? Besides d-dumping p-paint on you, I mean. Rachel?" Rachel wants to respond, she does, but her throat is dry and doesn't want to let her say anything. She shrugs and turns her gaze onto the floor. She hears Kurt say in a worried tone she has never heard from him, "Rachel, sweetie, you have to say something." "He tried,' she rasps, 'but his friends stopped him."
She hears Mercedes' angry voice start ranting, but she tunes the girl out. She wonders what will happen now. She wonders if there's any point in pressing charges. Probably not. Karofsky's father was a wellknown asshole with other well-known connections. He would easily be able to weasel his son's way out of a conviction. She wonders if there's any point in doing anything. She doesn't think so, so she doesn't. Then someone slams the locker room door open. Everyone, even Rachel, flinches when Quinn Fabray walks in. She looks like there's a bad smell under her nose, but her features soften when she saw the tiny brunette curled up on the bench. She starts to walk over to the girl but Mercedes pulls her back. From the corner of her eye Rachel sees her whisper something into Quinn's ear. She feels a slight flare of jealousy at the close contact, but otherwise makes no reaction. Quinn's eyes widen and her jaw drops. "That… That…' she is left utterly speechless. After a few seconds, she nods. "Go tell Figgins. He's in his office. I'll bring Rachel over as soon as she's up for it,' she tells them quietly. They nod and walk out, casting worried and slightly perturbed glances at Rachel as they did. Rachel doesn't move when Quinn settles down next to her. She leaves half a foot of space- enough for her to shift closer to Rachel if necessary, but not uncomfortable close. "So,' Quinn breathes.
Rachel hums noncommittally in reply. "Rachel, what exactly did Karofsky…?" Quinn asks urgently. She sighs then swallows hard. There was something about Quinn she couldn't ignore. She couldn't ignore the girl's questions, the girl's presence… She couldn't ignore the girl in general. So she swallows and forces the words out. "He tried to kiss me after they dumped paint on me, and when I refused to kiss him by punching him in the chest, he pushed me onto the ground." She shrugs. Hanging onto the edge of the seat, Quinn frowns. "And then?" "And then he stopped. His gang of assholes told him to stop,' she shrugs again. They lapse into silence. Quinn starts to say something, but she doesn't know what to say. She turns to look at the girl beside her. With her knees pulled up tight against her chest and her chin resting on them, Rachel's damp hair, still with flecks of pink in it, covers her face partially. The look on her face is pensive, tired and hopeless at the same time. It occurs to Quinn that Rachel had vaguely the same look on her face as when she found out she was pregnant. She had sat on the bathroom floor in the same pose, staring at the stick with that same
look on her face. Quinn knows what the look signifies. It signifies a complete lack of dreams, of hope. It signifies giving up on the inside. She sighs. "C'mon, Rachel. Let's go make sure Figgins does his job properly,' she says soberly, holding her hand out. Rachel furrows her eyebrows and looks up and Quinn. Then she takes Quinn's hand and pulls herself up. "Okay,' she says quietly. I used those three songs because 'When It All Falls Apart' is basically the theme. Everything's falling apart in this shithole of a school. Which is kind of depressing, but I'm kind of depressed and I'm sorry. 'Teenagers' reflects the anger in the chapter. 'Left Outside Alone' is about Rachel and how she's always left alone. That one is just sad. I'm not quite happy about how Mad World is going. I feel like I'm in a rut and the story is rambling on with its own life, making no sense. I might take a hiatus and come back. I don't know. Tell me, should I keep going where I'm going or stop and wait? Also, this was my shortest chapter so far. Again, I'm sorry. Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own my plot, my own work, and some characters like Phoebe and Amanda.
Note: I've decided not to be a depressed shithead who wrote things that made people cry. Who knew it was that easy to not be a depressed shithead? Huh. Learn something new every day, eh? Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter. As the two girls walk towards Figgins' office, Quinn suddenly smiles ironically. "Hey Rachel. This isn't very funny, but remember when you told me Glee wasn't dangerous?" She raises an eyebrow at the girl walking by her side and holding her hand loosely. "Funny, cause look at my hand,' she shrugs her right shoulder, 'and look at uh, look at you." At first Rachel turns to look at Quinn expressionlessly, but then she rolls her eyes slightly and a ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "It's true,' she comments, then suddenly lets out a giggle. Quinn glances at Rachel curiously. She knows her lame attempt at a joke wasn't funny at all. The giggle turns into laughter, which proceeds to quickly turn into full-blown, unstoppable laughter… And eventually somehow turns into Rachel Berry standing in the middle of the hallway, sobbing hysterically into Quinn Fabray's polo shirt. Quinn leans her back against a locker, pulling Rachel with her. "Shh,' she murmurs, gently rubbing the brunette on her back, 'it'll be okay, I promise." Rachel's entire body trembles and she clutches at Quinn's shirt.
"How will it be okay, Quinn? Tell me. How? This will never end. This is something they think they have to do. This is something they think they're obligated to do. And after they've done it, they enjoy it." Rachel chokes on a sob. "How will it be okay?" she whispers weakly. At a loss for words, Quinn just holds the shorter girl as she gasps for breath and tears stream down her face. She struggles to control her own tears. This wasn't her time to cry. She can feel the tears pooling in her eyes, but she blinks them back. She swallows the lump in her throat and hugs Rachel tighter. She couldn't break down right now. After a few minutes, Quinn could feel the brunette calming down. Her breathing was less erratic and her tears had almost stopped. Quinn reached into her inside jacket pocket which made Rachel flinch, since she was the one wearing the jacket. "Sorry,' Quinn muttered, and pulled out a packet of tissues. Rachel takes them and cleans her face as best as she can. She points at Quinn's shirt. "I'm sorry,' she says hoarsely. "It's just a shirt, Rachel. Consider it payment for all the shirts of yours that I ruined,' Quinn says, semiseriously. It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because
Rachel's lower lip trembles and her eyes blur with tears again. Quinn quickly brushes the tears away with her thumb and says, "I'm kidding. Really, it's fine. It's just a shirt." Rachel nods and turns away, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Quinn lets them girl breathe slowly for a while, and then she asks, "Are you ready?" Rachel nods again and shyly grasps Quinn's hand tightly in hers. Quinn smiles lightly and walks slowly with the brunette until they reach Figgins' office. The secretary just gives Rachel a onceover and points them through. They can see a hulking Karofsky sitting in front of Figgins and Mr. Schuester. Mr. Schuester looks tired and frustrated, and Figgins looks furious. "Wait,' the secretary calls out. The two girls turn around, Rachel's free hand already on the door. "Miss Berry, I called your parents. Mr. Berry is performing a surgery but Mr. uh, Mr. Hiram Berry is coming over right now." Her eyebrows furrow slightly. "Thanks,' Rachel mutters, and then she pushes the door open. She stands in the doorway, her legs not taking her in. It's only when Quinn squeezes past her and tugs her in gently that she follows. Quinn brings Rachel to stand next to Mr. Schuester, and she puts herself on
the other side of Rachel. Rachel stares into Karofsky's red-rimmed eyes and feels herself tremble with mild anger. Quinn wraps her arm around Rachel's shoulders, seemingly unconsciously. Rachel's shaking slows. Figgins coughs and everyone's eyes snap to him. "Mr. Karofsky, would you care to repeat what you said earlier for us?" His voice is thinner and tenser than any of the students have ever heard before. Karofsky sighs and leans back against the chair. He stares at the fountain pen on Figgins' desk and avoids eye contact with everyone, especially Rachel, as he speaks. "My brother, Renn, found out that I got beat by a pregnant chick yesterday, and he thought it was embarrassing. And it was, y'know, cause he's this stupid hardass dealing shit and his brother's getting shit from a girl. But he just laughed and this morning he gave me a bottle of crap and told me to drink it and start actin' like a man. So I drank it. It made me feel really like, crazy and stuff, like nothing mattered and I could do whatever the hell I wanted and it'd be fine." Quinn reflexively clenches her fists. Mr. Schuester scowls and stares out the glass doors. Rachel just focuses on not fainting. "And I was angry, y'know? So I came to school and I did the usual shit I did, except with more stuff. And
then like, we found this pot of paint over by the bleachers and I think it was prolly Ms. Sylvester who was gonna use it, but we nicked it, me an' the guys. Then I saw Berry walking across the field, so I grabbed her to where the paint was and the guys dumped it on her. It was just paint, y'know? Nothing happened." Karofsky added defensively. Quinn abruptly lets go of Rachel and slams her fist into Karofsky's arm. He looks prepared to fight her, but Figgins snaps for them to grow up and stop acting like children. Quinn lets out an angry grunt and says, "You conveniently left out the part where you almost raped her, huh, Karofsky?" And suddenly the blood is pounding in Rachel's ears. It hadn't been real until someone said it. And now Quinn had. The blonde seemed to realize that Rachel was on the point of hyperventilating again. "Rachel,' she mutters, at a loss for words yet again. The brunette just grabs her around the waist and presses her face into Quinn's shoulder. Over the top of her head, Quinn and Karofsky are locked in a glaring contest. Mr. Schuester gives Figgins a quick look and coughs. "We didn't quite believe Mercedes, Kurt and Tina when they told us." Figgins nods. Karofsky squirms uncomfortably in his seat. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to do it. I was like, crazy and shit. I didn't know what I was
doing,' he protests weakly. He looks horror-stricken. "I swear to god, Berry, I wasn't thinking! I just like, wanted to kiss you and I kind of... I'm sorry, I swear." Quinn shakes her head at him, scowling angrily. "Like anyone's going to believe that,' she states coldly. Just then, a burly, blonde man marches into the office. He bears a striking resemblance to Dave Karofsky and he holds an iPhone in one hand. Everyone immediately knows he is the infamous Harrod Karofsky. Well-known as a criminal defence lawyer who almost always won his cases, even in the face of blatant evidence and witnesses. Rich, corrupted, but slyly smart, always a few steps ahead of the law. He walks confidently to Figgins and holds out a hand. In a smooth, deep voice, he says, "Principal Figgins, I assume. It's a pleasure to meet you, though perhaps the circumstances are not ideal." He smiles, as though he had made a joke, and as though there isn't a broken-looking teenager standing not 5 feet away from him. Reluctantly, Figgins shakes his hand. Harrod Karofsky gives Mr. Schuester a quick look before glancing at the two girls. The man looks at him with barely-disguised disgust, but he surmises that he's nothing to worry about. The short brunette is holding the blonde tightly and is staring at both Karofsky's with wide, confused eyes. The blonde girl makes him feel vaguely uncomfortable. It's a feeling he has only
ever felt when he's on the verge of losing a court case. There is just this look in her eyes that makes her look like she could take on the world and win, and even though he is half a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than her, he can tell she's the one in the room he should be wary of. Plastering a charming smile on his face, he faces Figgins again. "What's David done this time, eh?" He pats his son on the shoulder with a large hand, making Dave wince and move away from his father's touch. Dave knew what those huge fists could do when angered. Figgins clears his throat and begins to speak. "Mr. Karofsky, your son has committed a several serious offences. He-" "Did he cut school? Perhaps a harmless prank? I'm sure it's nothing as serious as you're making it out to be, Principal Figgins. If there's something I need to sign or perhaps a fine I need to pay, could we do it right now? I've a very busy day ahead of me." Harrod Karofsky casually slipped a cheque in front of Figgins. "I trust that will be enough to cover whatever vandalism my son has thoughtlessly carried out? David, let's go,' he goes on, pulling his son up by the arm. Dave looks stunned and confused, but stands up. Everyone looks completely confused and incapable of
action. Harrod Karofsky had walked into an out-ofcontrol situation and taken over it. Figgins stares at the cheque in his hands. The amount was large enough to fix several blocks of bathrooms and maybe repaint a few walls but... He shook his head and put the cheque down. "Mr. Karofsky,' he began, but was shot down by a cold look from the older man. Quinn recovers fast. "Principal Figgins!' she exclaims, 'you can't let him do that! It's illegal, and Dave-" "Who are you, girl?" Harrod interrupts tiredly. "I am in no mood for childish problems. I have a client waiting for me back at the office and I do not need to waste my time-" "My name,' Quinn grinds out, speaking louder than the man, 'is Quinn Fabray, and I've heard about you, Mr. Harrod Karofsky, plenty of times. If I recall, you've lost more than a few cases against my father, haven't you?" Harrod's countenance changes almost immediately. His posture stiffens slightly and he looks decidedly less relaxed. "Fabray, hmm? So what, girl? Cases are lost, cases are won. It's the way of life." "Mr. Karofsky,' Figgins loudly interrupts, 'your son this very morning drank a bottle of what suspect was alcohol mixed with several drugs, given to him by your other son, Renn Karofsky, who, I might add, dropped
out of school last year. Mr. David Karofsky then came to school with a bucket of Slushie and poured it on Miss Berry here.' He gestures at Rachel, who's holding tightly to Quinn's hand. 'After that, he found a pot of pink paint and brought Miss Berry over to where his friends could throw it on her, after which he...' Figgins trails off, unsure how to continue. "After which he tried to rape me,' Rachel finishes in a hollow voice that seems so loud in the quiet office. "What?" Hiram Berry asks disbelievingly. He had come in just in time to hear Rachel speak. No one had noticed him because Harrod Karofsky had been blocking the view of the doorway. Immediately, everyone turns to look at the 6'1" African American. He had a cold look on his face. "Rachel, baby girl, could you say that again?" He spits out. "He tried to rape me,' she swallows and breathes hard. She had never seen her daddy so angry. He had always been the calmer one, the steady one, the one who could face anything and meticulously sort it all out without batting an eye. Hiram nods slowly and then looks at Harrod Karofsky. The two men size each other up and neither like what they see. Hiram immediately feels a wave of disgust for the handsome blonde man. There is a glint in his blue eyes that is both sure of himself and how society functions to serve him.
As the two men glare at each other, Dave's eyes land on the short brunette. She is staring right at him, a mixture of fear and hopelessness in her eyes. He shakes his head and weakly says, "I'm sorry, Berry. I swear I didn't know what I was doing." Rachel just looks at him, then gives an imperceptible nod of her head. Quinn frowns and bends to whisper in Rachel ear. "You can't let him off the hook like that, Rachel, you can't." Rachel looks up at the girl who had so painstakingly taken care of her, the girl who had gone from archenemy to friend to roommate, who had let her cry into her shoulder, who had held her close and kept her together and she let a tiny smile out. "Quinn, I-" "I think we should speak alone, Mr..." "Berry." "Mr. Berry. Let's go outside,' Harrod Karofsky says smoothly. Hiram's eyes narrow, but he follows the blonde outside. Figgins blinks and turns to Mr. Schuester. "William. What on earth just happened?" Mr. Schuester shrugs. "I have no idea. But you should
deal with Karofsky." Figgins nods and motions for Karofsky to sit down again, which he does, with reluctance. "Oh, and you should probably tear that cheque up, Figgins," Mr. Schuester adds helpfully. Figgins nods again and quickly tears it in half, his fingers hesitating for the barest of seconds, and hands it to the Spanish teacher. "Get rid of it, Schue. I never want to see it again." He glances at the two girls. Rachel had her arms around Quinn and was staring up at her, muttering something. Quinn was looking at Rachel, confusion evident on her face. "William, take them with you. I will speak with Karofsky alone." Mr. Schuester nods and taps Quinn on her shoulder. She turns, her eyebrows furrowed and her expression thoughtful. "We should go,' he said. Quinn tosses Karofsky an intense, icy look now mingled with thoughtfulness, and then she pulls Rachel out of the office. Mr. Schuester gives Karofsky one last look before he leaves. For some strange reason, he no longer sees a big blonde bully. He sees a boy who had been shaped into who he was unwittingly, a boy who maybe could change. Mr. Schuester shook his head and left without another word. Sometimes he really wondered why he didn't get a less stressful job, like a drug dealer or a lion tamer.
Down the hallway, the two grown men are locked in a heated conversation, but they don't look like they are about to come to blows. Mr. Schuester turns away from them to look to his left. Rachel is speaking emphatically to Quinn about something, and the blonde girl looks thoroughly frustrated. She keeps trying to cut in, but Rachel is on a roll. That small Rachelism makes Mr. Schuester smile. Perhaps the girl wasn't quite as broken as everyone thought. He knew what it was like to try to convince Rachel of something she was sure about. "Girls,' he calls out. They turn to look at him. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I'm sure the other kids will understand." The girls nod and Mr. Schuester walks off to the choir room. "Rachel, explain to me again why the hell you don't want to press charges. It's an airtight case! There are maybe a hundred witnesses in this school who can back you up. Throwing Slushies on someone is not a beauty makeover; it's assault. Throwing paint with the intent to harm is so many times worse. Are you worried about Harrod Karofsky? I mean, yeah, I know he's a total asshole, but I could convince my father to-" "Quinn, shut up. Listen to yourself. You sound like a lawyer,' she laughs weakly, 'Look, I understand where
you're coming from, but I don't see the point in pressing charges. The only thing that will happen is Karofsky maybe going to juvenile detention, where he will meet others like him. He would never change. He apologized, Quinn. That doesn't make it better but-" "He apologized. Is that it? Just because he said he was sorry doesn't mean he is. An 'I'm sorry' doesn't make everything better, Rachel." "And what about you, Quinn? Are you sorry?" Rachel prods. "What?' she taken aback at the sudden change of topic, 'I mean, yeah, I really am. I never wanted to do the things I did to you. It was just something that... It happened, y'know? I was a cheerleader, you were a Gleek. Social rules and stuff." As soon as Quinn was finished speaking, Rachel began to nod. "And that, my dear Quinn, is what I mean. If we go to trial, and they ask me under oath whether anyone else was involved in these continued assaults, what am I supposed to say? Am I to put only Karofsky out there to be judged, or do I name every single person who decided one morning to throw a Slushie on the girl who is always Slushied? I would end up naming you, Quinn. I gave you a chance and you haven't proven me wrong so far. I wouldn't be who I was raised to be if I didn't extend this chance to Dave Karofsky." Rachel finishes, nodding sagely.
Quinn opens her mouth to protest again, but then she finally understands. She hadn't been much better than Karofsky. It had been her who found out how hard Slushies were to get out of one's clothes when she accidentally spilled some on herself. It had been her who suggested someone throw a Slushie on someone like Rachel to see what would happen. She had started the Slushie-torture. And if Rachel could forgive her, wouldn't it be hypocritical for her not to forgive Dave Karofsky? Yes, what Karofsky did bordered on unforgivable, but from what she had seen today, Quinn could see that Dave Karofsky had a different kind of life at home that she had. While her parents suffocated her in perfection, his family was full of crooks and deceptions and drugs. Each to her and his own. It was a wonder that he had never committed a serious crime before this. It wasn't entirely his fault, just like it wasn't all her fault. Feeling uncomfortable, Quinn shakes her head. "I don't like it. You can't prove a point if you let him go on his merry way like that." "You don't prove a point by needlessly hurting people, Quinn. You prove a point by making the first step towards what you believe in. If you want things to be equal, you have to believe in equality and forgiveness. If I don't forgive Karofsky, to me, I'll be
just as bad as him. If I don't give him a chance the way I gave you a chance, I would be a hypocrite. If I don't take the first step towards forgiveness, how will the rest of the school?" Rachel speaks with conviction, a shine in her eyes, determination in the set of her shoulders. She doesn't look beaten down anymore, instead, she reminds Quinn of the brave men and women who stood up for what they believed in and got shot in the process. She looks like a revolutionary. She looks beautiful. Quinn unconsciously smiles gently and leans her head down. There is a rushing in her ears and in her eyes there is a glow around Rachel. She stops her movement when she comes down face-to-face with Rachel. Their faces are less than a few inches apart. Rachel feels her breath hitch. At such a close range, it hits her that Quinn's eyes, generally described as hazel, actually only had flecks of hazel. Her eyes were mostly a beautiful, startling green. Rachel felt herself getting lost in those eyes. "Quinn...' she breathes. Quinn swallows hard, and then she quickly brushes a light kiss across Rachel's cheek. Blushing furiously, she straightens up and clears her throat. "You're really nice, Rachel,' she mutters, still trying desperately to swallow the lump in her throat. 'Too nice, if I'm being honest. I just hope you know what
you're doing." For some strange reason, her heart is beating wildly against her chest, begging to be released into the world. Disappointed, Rachel just shrugs. "It's better than fighting, Quinn. Fighting for world peace is one of the most ironic sayings in the world. If you want world peace, then don't use guns or fists. Use your actions." She turns away, feeling her cheek burn when Quinn's lips had been for a grand total of one second. Coughing awkwardly, Quinn cups Rachel's hand in her own, back to palm. Rachel's palm is slightly smaller and her fingers are slim and proportionate, just the right length. It fits in her palm almost perfectly. Shyly, she says, "Your hands aren't manly at all, Rachel." Rachel smiles back. She understood that with those words, Quinn was taking back all the horrible things she had said before. She was apologizing for everything bad she had done and she was hoping that Rachel would extend her forgiveness to her. "They aren't, are they?" And with those words, she was accepting Quinn as a new person. She was accepting Quinn Fabray. Not Quinn Charlotte Fabray the perfect daughter, or Quinn the cheerleader, or pregnant Quinn. No, she was accepting Quinn Fabray, defender of tortured, talented and short brunettes.
Their moment is broken by a heavy shuffling of feet. Two pairs of feet. Quinn abruptly lets go of Rachel's hand. They turn to see Principal Figgins and Dave Karofsky walking towards them. "Miss Berry, if you could accompany us? There is something that needs to be said, and I would like you to be there." Figgins sounds older than Rachel had ever heard him. Rachel nods and follows behind Figgins and Karofsky to where her father is glaring at Harrod Karofsky. "Liar." "Faggot." "Criminal." "Faggot." "Bastard." "Mr. Berry, Mr. Karofsky! Perhaps we could remain civil?" Figgins quickly interjects. "Of course, Principal Figgins. If I could just take my son I can be away and I won't even press charges against these vile accusations. Without proof, this is all slander." Harrod Karofsky informs them all.
Dave Karofsky looks ashamed. "Dad, cut it out. Just... stop it." Harrod looks thunderstruck, but quickly regains his composure. "Keep quiet boy, you don't know what you're doing." "Yes, I do, Dad. I've been expelled; we can go now. Just stop it." Dave Karofsky sounds resigned and regretful. "You- what? You're expelled? For what, I'd like to know." Harrod turns to glare at Figgins. "Your son has been expelled for repeated incidents of bullying that include throwing Slushies, food and spit balls at many other students and also certain teachers. He has also repeatedly targeted his assault at Miss Rachel Berry and time and time again caused her distress. Today it all came to a climax when he decided to up his bullying and ended up almost trying to rape a fellow student. He was also under the influence of unidentified substances provided by his brother. Had his friends not been there to stop him, who knows what he would have done? "I simply cannot have these shenanigans in my school, Mr. Karofsky. He is a bad influence on the other children and as Principal, I have a responsibility to those children."
Harrod Karofsky gapes and then glares stonily from Figgins to his son. His lips curl in disgust. "Go get your things, boy. I'll meet you in the car. You don't need this school,' he says coldly before turning around and stalking out of the school. Hiram hurries over to Rachel's side and embraces her. "Oh, baby girl, are you okay?" "I'm okay, Daddy. Can you let go of me, though?" Rachel asks firmly. Hiram steps back and looks at his daughter curiously. He watches as she tells her principal that "To err is human, to forgive divine. I don't want Dave Karofsky expelled. Give him another chance, Principal Figgins. I don't want to press charges, and I won't make things hard." He exchanges a glance with Quinn, who just shrugs and looks resigned. "She said what Karofsky did to her was rather less severe than what Puck did to me. I don't know; she's your daughter." Hiram Berry watches as Figgins frowns in thought, then nods and says, "Very well, Miss Berry. Mr. Karofsky, you will assist Mr. Kinley the janitor in his duties for the three months every day for three hours after school. You will also have detention for three months after that, and you will be suspended from the team until the end of the year. And if I ever receive reports again, Mr. Karofsky, I don't care how many students ask me to let you stay. I will expel you. Miss
Berry, is that satisfactory?" he asks, turning to Rachel. Hiram frowns because he feels that no, it wasn't satisfactory at all, but then his daughter nods with a sureness in her eyes and he knows that though he is the adult, the choice is not his to make. And even though what he really wants to do is give the blonde jock a good thrashing, he feels a strange surge of pride at how his daughter is handling the situation. Rachel stands in front of the tall teen and nervously extends her arm forward. Karofsky looks confused for a moment, then he reaches out to grasp her hand gently. "Thanks Berry. And... I'm sorry. Really, I am,' he says sincerely. His eyes are still red-rimmed and he looks vaguely woozy, but Rachel could see that behind his tired blue eyes, there really was remorse in them, and that was enough for her. He let go of her hand. "I know you probably don't really believe me but "You can totally throw stuff on me whenever you want and you can like, hit me, if you want,' Karofsky offers. Rachel smiles thinly. "I haven't quite forgiven you yet, Karofsky. I still don't like you, and if you ever do anything even close to what you almost did today, I won't ever forgive you, and not even your father will be able to get you out of all the lawsuits piled on you. On the other hand, I don't at all believe that violence
is the answ-' Karofsky yelps as a Quinn's fist slugs him hard in the shoulder. Then she does it again, then Rachel grabs at her hand. She wonders how the blonde appeared next to her so suddenly, but then she frowns. "Quinn!" she scolds. "What?' Quinn shrugs and flexes her left hand, shaking it out. 'He's the one who offered." Karofsky throws Quinn a fake smile, and then he rolls his shoulders. "S'okay, Berry. I offered. So like, thanks, y'know. I gotta go or my dad's gonna come in here and kill me." He quickly turns and jogs down the hallway. Figgins nods to Hiram before gesturing at his office. Hiram nods. "Girls, I'll meet you back at the house, okay? Quinn, make sure she gets home." "Yessir, Mr. Berry,' she replies, wrapping an arm around Rachel loosely and pulling the girl to follow her. Rachel waves at her father and pulls back at Quinn, saying something about her bag. Hiram watches them walk away from him and he smirks slyly. Whether they yet knew it or not... He shakes his head to dislodge his thoughts. He could've been wrong, after all. Looking at the world through
rainbow-tinted glasses did have its drawbacks. Who knew, really, about these things? Anything could happen. He follows Figgins back to his office, where he sits through a half hour's worth of apologies and assurances. He lets himself look faintly unsatisfied, but inside he ponders on everything he had seen in the past half hour. No, he probably wasn't wrong. Still... It really was useless to ponder so much on his daughter's love life, but he was her gay dad, after all. What else was he supposed to wonder about? I think the song title is rather self-explanatory. Let it be, y'know? I'm on this stupid don't hate people forever kick; I'm sure it'll pass soon. Thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter and told me to keep writing. I really hope you like this. Feedback? I'd just like to head you off before you tell me about how Karofsky doesn't deserve Rachel's forgiveness. I agree. He doesn't. But Rachel thinks he does. She's amazing; I'd marry her in a heartbeat. Er.. Back to my point. Rachel forgives everyone, which is pretty scary. Also, Karofsky never actually did anything, to be honest. He never actually touched her in any way. So, y'know, give him a chance. Boyfriends in high school have done worse to their girlfriends than what Karofsky did to Rachel. Edit: Yes, I agree with you, firetiger. I am in no way
condoning their actions. People who take advantage of either their boyfriends or girlfriends should be shot. I was just trying to point out that before anyone tells me Karofsky is pure evil, I'd like to point out that he is, after all, a high school boy. I've read a lot of true stories where people admit to their boyfriends drunkenly or soberly *forcing* them to have sex and they end up not only not breaking up but some even get married. Go figure. Thanks for reviewing, btw. Okay, I give up. Tell me how much you still don't like the guy. I wrote this chapter, then I decided I didn't quite like it, left it a week or so, came back, edited it, decided I wasn't going to change much and then... Posted it. Leave me some love, yeh? Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own my plot, my own work, and some characters like Phoebe and Amanda. Note:Things I'll Never Say' by Avril Lavigne. Also, 3,333. Most awesome fanfic-writing moment of my life. And I've upped the rating to 'M', just in case. This chapter isn't very 'M', though. "Are you hungry?" Quinn asks while pulling out of the parking lot. Clearly, Quinn was the better driver, so now Quinn drove Rachel's car when they were together. Rachel had had no say in the matter. Besides, Quinn no longer had a car. Hers was
probably in the driveway, unless her dad had already gotten rid of it, and she didn't particularly look forward to asking her mother for the car. "Not really. I actually feel strangely sleepy. I believe the stress of the entire day has finally caught up to with me and now my body is responding my sending me signals to go to sleep and recuperate and- Quinn, why are you humming?" Confused, Rachel inclines her head to look at Quinn, who was indeed humming what sounded suspiciously like Pink's 'So What'. Quinn smirks and then glances at Rachel innocently. "Humming? Was I? I didn't realise. I have been told I unconsciously start humming when people start elaborating too much, though." Rachel takes the good-natured jibe in stride and smiles. "No, Quinn, I'm not hungry." Quinn gasps and Rachel frantically asks, "What?" "You spoke for less than 10 seconds!" Rachel rolls her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint." "Kidding. Go to sleep, Rachel. I'll wake you when we're back at the house. I wouldn't, but I can't carry you into the-" Quinn shuts up when she sees Rachel has already slumped into the car seat and has her eyes closed, breathing evenly.
Ten minutes later, only a repetitive poking of Rachel's shoulder and calling of her name manages to rouse the girl from her sleep. Quinn stands at the open door and catches the small girl when she almost topples over in her bleary state. She uses a foot to close the door and lets Rachel, still half-asleep, lean against her going into the house. "Bed,' Rachel mumbles, 'tired." Quinn wonders whether having the girl speak fewer sentences was worth dragging her up the stairs. However, with a little bit of effort to raise her feet sometimes on Rachel's part, Quinn manages to get Rachel to her room. The brunette immediately curls up on the bed. "I'm gonna go make you something to drink, okay, Rachel?" She has this weird memory of Phoebe always making her hot chocolate when her parents were being useless. It used to help her, until she could no longer drink hot chocolate on a regular basis because Sue Sylvester trained a wolfhound to sniff it out. "Don't wanna chocolate, wanna pillow,' Rachel mumbles into her pillow. Quinn grins and leaves the room, letting the girl snuggle into her pillow in private. The moment Quinn steps out of the room, Rachel
sighs quietly. This thing will Quinn, whatever it was, was developing rather quickly. Quinn only had to touch her lightly to make her heartbeat start to race. Her emotions had always been a little too... strong. She turns onto her back and stares up at her ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars gaze back down at her. For once she doesn't find it at all comforting. Rachel groans and turns onto her side. Then she keeps turning until Quinn walks back in. She watches through half-lidded eyelids as Quinn slips into the room again, a mug in each hand. Quinn sets one mug down next to Rachel's bed, on the bedside table. She abruptly loses her view of the blonde but feels a tugging at her shoes before her feet come free. When nothing happens after that, Rachel dares to open one eye. Quinn was gazing down at her with a slightly frustrated, confused look on her face. There was some strange emotion in the other girl's eyes. Afraid that the blonde was about to regress and dump another liquid on her, except this was hot chocolate and would hurt a lot more, Rachel blurts out her name. "Quinn?" Quinn blinks and seems to come out of her reverie. Rachel wriggles into an upright position, her back against the headboard, and pulls her knees against her. She smiles gratefully when Quinn hands her the 'Wicked' mug. Rachel holds it in two hands and sips
slowly, before grinning widely and saying, "Vanilla and mini-marshmallows, Quinn?" "I found them next to the cocoa powder. I figured you were probably the one who bought it so I chucked it in," Quinn mutters distractedly. She finds herself looking around the room mindlessly. She doesn't even know what's wrong with her. All she knew was that she was suddenly replaying in her mind again and again how she kissed Rachel on the cheek. It was just a kiss on the cheek! Friends did that all the time. So did parents. It was a gesture meant to provide comfort, right? And Rachel needed comforting at the time, didn't she? Right. "Hello, Quinn? Are you there?" Rachel calls yet again. Quinn shakes her head and nods. "Sorry. I'll go and let you get to sleep." She turns to leave. "Quinn, wait,' the words slip out before she can reel them back in. "Stay with me for a while?" She pats the bed. Inwardly, Quinn fights a raging battle with herself. Friends shared beds all the time, didn't they? Santana and Brittany shared a bed all the time. That was a bad example. She'd shared a bed with the two of them before and it hadn't been weird at all. She wasn't even going to sleep there, just stay with Rachel for a little while. The girl had been through a lot and now Quinn
was just being a good friend, right? Crap, now she was over-analysing. But if it had been Brittany or Santana asking her for a little bit of comfort, not that Santana ever would except for the one time her dog died right after Brittany decided it would be a good idea to kiss Mike Chang, she would have been there without any hesitation. And Rachel was... She was trying to be a good friend to Rachel, and that meant treating her the same way she treated Brittany and Santana. So why was she hesitating? "I mean, you don't have to, because obviously you have homework to do, I'm sure." Rachel is rambling again. And there, the perfect excuse. Homework. She actually did have homework to finish. But then she caught the flash of disappointment and dejection in Rachel eyes and felt her desire to do homework shrivel up into a tiny ball. When she climbs onto the bed without warning, Rachel squeals and sets her mug back on the table because Quinn's foot had somehow caught the underside of Rachel's and, unbeknownst to Quinn, that was the most ticklish spot on her entire body. Confused, Quinn settles into the spot next to Rachel. "What?"
Blushing, Rachel hurriedly shakes her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I didn't just squeal into your ear because-" She cuts herself off abruptly. "Because...?" Quinn presses, curious. "I'm just... extremely ticklish there,' she admits. She fully regrets the decision to tell Quinn this when the blonde runs her foot over the same spot. Repeatedly. "Quinn! Don't! I can't- Quinn!" Grinning, Quinn finally pulls away and lets the brunette breathe through her abating laughter. It's as though the tension Quinn felt had melted away with Rachel's laughter. She finds that she's suddenly a lot more comfortable in the bed than she was a few minutes ago. She turns on her side and watches in amusement as Rachel calms down from her laughing fit. Rachel smiles awkwardly at her and rolls her eyes before picking up her mug again. "Rachel, do you want to maybe talk about it?" The question had just slipped out. She hadn't meant to ask Rachel to once more relive the entire stressful day but she had been curious as to how the girl could be so... Rachel. There just wasn't any other way to describe it. Misinterpreting and almost choking, Rachel splutters out, "Talk about what?" Surely Quinn hadn't realised that...
"Karofsky,' Quinn blurts out. "If you feel like you need to talk about it." She looks uncomfortable. "To be honest, Quinn,' Rachel says slowly, 'I don't feel traumatised. I'm expected to feel that way, but I don't. What he did to me isn't as bad as what he could have done and could have been far worse. Compared to so many other women I got off easy. I prefer to think of myself as one of the lucky ones and just put it all behind me and move on." She takes a sip of her drink before softly continuing to say, "And it's hard to feel afraid or depressed when you're here with me. It's nice to have a friend," she ends in a whisper. Quinn blinks rapidly to dispel the wetness in her eyes, but that just makes the tears come faster. She roughly rubs her tears away. Hormones. That had to be it. "Why are you crying?" Quinn shrugs and Rachel asks back, "Do you want to talk about it?" "About what?" Quinn shoots back defensively. "About whatever you wish. You seem distracted and worried about something. You also reacted far too defensively than if there was nothing to talk about." Rachel shrugs, mimicking Quinn's actions. "All I meant, Quinn, is that you can talk to me if you want. I
won't judge you. I've been through years of being judged and it's nothing new to me, but it's taught me not to judge others. There's no point in it." "Stop spewing wisdom at every turn, Berry. It's beginning to make me think you're some kind of centuries-old guru reborn into an annoying teenager's body," Quinn quips to lighten the mood. Rachel giggles and snuggles into her blanket. "I'm sorry I'm smart, Quinn." Quinn rolls her eyes and flicks the brunette on her arm. "Go to sleep, guru." Rachel flips over to stare Quinn in the eyes. Seriously and apprehensively, she asks, "Will you leave me?" There is a hidden question in her words. The most obvious being whether Quinn would leave her alone right after her traumatic experience that apparently wasn't that traumatic. But Quinn senses that Rachel is also asking the question in a much broader sense. Was Quinn going to leave her when everything was over? Was Quinn going to go back to the top and leave Rachel in the pit of loneliness? She doesn't know, but an honest answer lies on the tip of her tongue and it blurts itself out before she can stop or over-think it. "I don't think I can."
It seems to have been the right thing to say because Rachel smiles winningly before closing her eyes to go to sleep. "Thank you,' she whispers, burying her face into her pillow. She is unaware of the intent, confused stare Quinn gives her before the blonde also drifts off to sleep. One sentence keeps replaying itself in her mind on a continuous loop, her mantra instead of counting sheep: 'It's nice to have a friend.' She knows it is a dream. It has to be. How else could she be standing on utter blackness, an empty void, and not fall? But it a weird dream. She sees Santana, Brittany holding her from behind and her chin on the Latina's shoulder, standing with her hands perched on her hips. "Q,' Santana barks, (literally, she barks like a dog, but Quinn understands what she's saying), 'We love you, seriously, but if you don't get over your stupid obsession over being straight, I will tell Sue Sylvester you were the one who scraped the paint off her car while you were reversing." It's hard for Quinn to talk because her mouth is full of marbles. She can taste the cold glass on her tongue, but somehow manages to warble out, "Wha?" "Get over it already, Quinn! You're the most repressed le-" Quinn opens her eyes, blinking hard. She had had the strangest dream. Santana had been telling her she was a pressed lemon. That was... interesting. Then
she squints, because it seems she's still dreaming. Santana and Brittany, in the exact same pose from her dream, are standing in Rachel's bedroom doorway. She closes her eyes to slip back into her dream and maybe learn something about how she was a pressed lemon. "Wake your pregnant lard ass up, Quinn. Don't make me walk over there. I don't want Berry germs." Quinn groans. That was no dream. It was the real Santana Lopez, through and through. "What are you doing here?" She complains, automatically shifting closer to the source of her warmth and snuggling into it. "Well, I was here to annoy you, but I see you're busy with your afterglow. Should I leave you in case you want to have sex under the sheets? Oh god, Q, you're not naked under there, are you?" Santana smirks as the blush rises rapidly from Quinn's neck up to her hairline when she realises the warm thing she was cuddling up against is actually Rachel Berry. She hurriedly detaches her arm from around the brunette's waist, wincing at the stiffness coming from her injured right arm. Stupid arms. She tries to push herself away from Rachel but ends up slipping off the bed onto the floor. "Ow! Bitch!" she exclaims.
Her cry wakes Rachel up, who up till now had been comfortably asleep in her dream of graciously accepting an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony Award at the same time. It was a recurring dream she had. She curiously turns to see that there are two Cheerios standing in her doorway, though they're not in their uniforms. She finds that she's weirdly amused about this. She'd thought their Cheerios uniforms were soldered to their skin. But they're in jeans and matching t-shirts, though Santana's was black and Brittany was in red. Quinn was right. How had she not noticed they were dating? "What are you doing here? In my house? In my bedroom?" Santana sighs in annoyance. She wonders why she even bothered, but then she sees her girlfriend pulling Quinn up from the floor and she remembers. Brittany had innocently asked her out on a walk, and she had walked to this house. God, she was so whipped. "We came to look for you,' Brittany explains, brushing Quinn off. "Yeah, we came to look for you, you blonde bimbo Barbie. Then Berry's dads liked me so much they adopted me and told me that I was supposed to have this room. I guess they forgot they already had a kid. Also, dinner in twenty minutes," Santana says sarcastically.
Rachel slumps back onto the bed before pulling the blanket over herself. "Wake me up in 15 minutes,' she grumbles. "Adorable, isn't she?" Brittany comments before flinging herself onto the bed and patting Rachel on the head affectionately. "You're so annoying!" Quinn growls as she smacks Santana in the arm, ignoring Brittany. "San, Quinn, stop antagonising each other. It's beginning to get on my nerves. You know you love each other; there is no need to hide behind a mask of forced companionship. We're not in school, so chill out," Brittany commands. Santana and Quinn grudgingly stop harassing each other and Santana pouts at Brittany before climbing into her arms, not seeming to care that Rachel is staring at them while stuttering unintelligibly. "You'll have to speak up, Rachel. I couldn't quite catch that," Brittany smiles wickedly. In response, Rachel can only gape at the snuggling couple on her bed. On her bed. Brittany said 'antagonising' and 'forced companionship'. Brittany and Santana were snuggling on her bed. Brittany was verbose. The sky was falling. Santana chuckles as Quinn grins. "I might have forgotten to mention this in all the excitement, but Brittany is smart, Rachel."
"But Brittany... She's... She... She's adorably stupid! She's dumber yet still cuter than Finn. At least, she's supposed to be,' Rachel mutters. "I wholeheartedly agree with the adorable part, but the stupid part is only what you see, Rach,' Brittany explains as she draws random shapes on Santana's bare arm. "When you pretend to be an idiot and not understand what people say, they speak simply. It saves me from long-winded speeches because they think I'll never understand. Except you, though. You still say far too many things to me even though you think I'm an idiot. Also, they show their true colours. They assume that you don't understand their insults because you're stupid." "For example, I've learned that Artie can be kind of a dick to people who he thinks aren't as smart as him. It makes him feel better about himself because of his disability. We have legs; he has brains and things like that. Basically, it gives him something to gloat about, and gloat he does." Brittany grimaces and, mockingly, she imitates him. "Failed Spanish, hmm? Oh well. I can't say I'm surprised. Now I'll roll, roll, roll away because I'm a pacifist and I don't like conflict. Roll, roll, roll." She mimes throwing up. "Just because no one else knows about my 26 public speaking awards-" "39 dancing awards, 10 swimming medals, nine
English essay writing competition grand prize winning essays-" Santana continues. "Six short story Scholastic awards for six consecutive years until she stopped entering, 2 dogs, one hamster, and diploma in the piano-" Quinn drones on. "And a partridge in a pear tree!" Santana sings to finish off. Rachel looks like she is about to faint. Brittany has the grace to blush. "My mom likes to brag. Often,' she mumbles. Santana laughs against her collarbone. Quinn chuckles and starts struggling out of her clothes into a t-shirt and shorts. She'd forgotten to change before falling into bed with Rachel. Wow that sounded bad. She blushes again and faces away from her friends. Rachel blinks rapidly and looks away from Quinn's pale, smooth skin to find Brittany smirking knowingly at her. She clears her throat and hurriedly says, "So, to clarify, you're actually a genius but you enjoy pretending to be dimwit to get inside people's heads because you find it amusing." "Yup!" Brittany agrees cheerfully. "You and Santana are dating, but you're not out." "Oh, we're out. It's not our fault the whole club is
fucking dense and blind to everything except their own inconsequential problems,' Santana rants, 'They're all idiots. If they don't want to see what's under their stupid noses, whatever." Rachel nods, trying to wrap her head around it all. "Stop stating the obvious, Rachel,' Quinn laughs, earning her a glare from Santana. The diva frowns thoughtfully, then adds, "Quinn is pregnant with Puck's devil's spawn." Santana lets out a bark of laughter while Quinn just rolls her eyes. Brittany giggles and pokes Rachel in her side. "Diva's got a sense of humour, huh?" "Miss Airhead actually is Miss Know It All, huh? And Miss Talent. And Miss Looks. And Miss Legs. Oh no, I didn't just say that aloud." Rachel clamps her hands over her mouth. Santana hits Rachel on the head with a pillow while Brittany guffaws. "Do not perv on my girlfriend, Berry, or I swear to god I will cut you. Get your own damn girlfriend to perv on." Rachel nods hurriedly and glances from Quinn to the entangled couple next to her. They were wound so tightly against each other it was hard to tell who was who. It hits her that just last week, the same three
girls had asked her whether she was going to go to the prom for losers in Loserville, United States of Argyle. Brittany was actually smart. Brittany and Santana were actually BrittanyandSantana. Quinn Fabray was living in her house. It's a mad, mad world, this world of hers. A t-shirt suddenly hits her in the face and she lets out a squeal of protest. "Get changed, Berry. I want my jacket back. And I want to eat dinner. We'll meet you downstairs,' Quinn commands, hauling the two Cheerios to their feet. Rachel can only nod. Pressed lemons are yummy. ;) 'Things I'll Never Say' by Avril Lavigne. I used this song because there are so many things that they both want to say but don't know how to say because they don't quite know what they actually mean to say. And if you understood all that, high-five! Liked this chapter, hated it, loathed it, loved it, tell me, aye? Someone asked for fluff, and I don't quite know if I delivered. Also, sorry for the length. I'll try to make the next chapter longer. Note: Lost - Katy Perry
"Yesterday was rather strange,' Rachel comments. "Not for me,' Quinn brakes abruptly into a parking lot under a tall tree. There were only a few shaded parking lots and most were usually taken by the time they got there, but they are 20 minutes earlier than usual this morning. "They're like that all the time. Eventually you'll get over Santana being so completely whipped and Brittany so… not the Brittany you know." "So, are you girls together in glee club? You're all friends?" Hiram asks as he passes the mashed potatoes to Rachel, who was sitting on his left. Rachel freezes for the barest second before wordlessly passing the bowl to Quinn, on her left, without taking any. Brittany and Santana, on the opposite side of the table, glance at each other discreetly. Curious, Leroy accepts the bowl from Quinn with a raised eyebrow. Clearing her throat as Leroy passes her the bowl, Brittany simply replies, "Yessir." Santana's eyes widen marginally, but she makes no comment as Brittany grins and scoops a heap of potatoes onto her plate. Rachel pauses halfway through her broccoli, but out of the corner of her eye, Quinn sees the slight smile that flickers on her face. Hiram chuckles and waves off the 'sir'. "None of that
'sir' business in this house, you hear me, missy?" Brittany grins and nods. Leroy frowns slightly at Santana, who tries her best to not roll her eyes and glare back. Survival instinct would always be survival instinct. "Santana Lopez, am I right?" Santana just nods. Leroy relaxes slightly, and says, "I know your father. He came in once early last year for a broken leg, right?" "Yeah. He fell out of our tree. He still has the scar, but he walks just as fast as ever from the kitchen to the couch." This elicits some laughter from the adults and a fond smile from Brittany at her girlfriend being friendly, but Quinn frowns. With her spoon still stuck in her mouth, she curiously states, "I never heard that story." "He was getting rid of the old planks in the tree house and putting new ones in because it was beginning to get old and dangerous. And slightly moldy. Which was dangerous, because we're bigger than we were 13 years ago, obviously." Quinn cocks her head at Santana's slightly nervous rambling. That girl never got nervous or rambled. Then Brittany speaks and Quinn understands. "Also, a lot of the 'moving around' we did up there damaged the place a bit,' Brittany adds casually. Hiram and Leroy burst into laughter while Rachel and
Quinn just blush. Santana has the grace to look completely mortified, but she relaxes and flushes when Brittany turns to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Still curious about how Rachel was friends with the other girls, Leroy steers the conversation back nonchalantly. "You're all friends in school, then? You girls 'hang out' together?" He takes a sip of his juice, unaware of the rapid blinks the three cheerleaders were passing each other. Rachel looks up from her carrots, uncharacteristically not saying a word. She wonders how they are going to be able to answer the question without lying. Smiling at Rachel, Brittany just says, "Yeah, Mr. Berry. We're all friends in school now. We're all in glee, too." None of the girls miss Rachel's sudden, brilliant smile. Leroy gives Hiram a look that only married couples understood, but Hiram shrugs. "Is Mr. Schuester still trying to sabotage Rachel's future extremely successful career on Broadway, then?" he teases, drawing the conversation away and returning a look to his husband that clearly said, 'Drop it.' This time, all three girls reply with a "Yeah" in unison. "Daddy! This is a very serious issue and not meant to be taken lightly at all!" Rachel exclaims, setting her fork down with a huff. Everyone just hides their smiles and go back to
eating. Quinn gives Rachel an extra smirk and a nudge without knowing why. "About Brittany… I don't quite understand how she can act like such an…" Quinn twists her arm around the steering wheel to turn the engine off. "Such an idiot?" They get out of the car and start walking towards the main school building. Quinn ignores the top of the Cheerio's pyramid that she can see from where she is. It just reminds her that she's not there and she would soon have to confront Sue Sylvester, better known as the devil in tracksuits, about that. "Well, if you must use that word, I suppose so. She should really just be herself. People would stop thinking of her as a fool and respect her more. Getting to know people for who they are is fun, sometimes, but doesn't she get tired of the constant jibes at her expense?" Rachel plucks Quinn's books from her right hand. Her left hand isn't much use, being casted. Quinn makes a grab for her books, but Rachel just dodges out of the way. "Well?" "Don't you?" is Quinn's cryptic reply. At Rachel's confused look, Quinn explains. "People mock you for being you. They, and by 'they' I mean including me, at some point, mock you for your dress sense, personality and talent. Yet today you are clad in a
horrifyingly bright yellow sweater, you still act the same way, judging by how you wouldn't let me sleep an extra five minutes this morning, and you were singing along to Kelly Clarkson earlier in the car. Would you change all of that, give all that up, to stop people from mocking you?" Rachel frowns as she accompanies Quinn to her locker. "Your logic, put like that, is infallible and undeniable. Unfortunately, Quinn, the difference is, I'm being me. I wouldn't change, because this badly dressed, socially awkward, extremely good performer is me. If people were to like me for not being me, I would rather they not. I would rather be mocked. However,' she continues as Quinn slams her faulty locker shut and they start walking to her locker, "Brittany doesn't act like herself. She acts like someone else. She acts… not smart." "No,' Quinn disagrees, 'she acts like herself. The "smart" Brittany is just as sweet and kind as the "notsmart" Brittany. She just dropped the vocabulary and the processing power when talking to other people. Look, when she's at home, her parents fawn over her. They constantly expect her to win competitions. But the weird thing about them is that they don't expect her to enter. If she enters, they fully expect first prize, and she does get it almost all the time, but they don't force her to enter. They don't even suggest she enters. They let her be herself. Her parents are also strange because they don't expect good grades."
Rachel shifts from behind her locker to look at Quinn strangely. "They don't?" "No. They trust her to do what she needs to do. If you were a little more observant, you would notice that Brittany has never failed anything. In fact, sometimes she forgets and does better than her usual work, but people just assume it's a fluke, or she copied someone homework, but she never does. People think she's stupid or slow or mentally disabled, but she's is definitely not. They're the stupid ones,' Quinn snarls suddenly, 'because they just assume and joke and say things they shouldn't say. If they decided to actually look closer, they'd notice that Brittany was the only Cheerio besides Santana and I that didn't fail Spanish." Rachel thoughtfully closes her locker. "I never really thought about that." "I don't even know how Santana managed to get into Spanish class anyway, but she refused to be bored alone. Anyway, to quote a genius, 'be who you are and say what you feel-" "Because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind," Rachel finishes. "Really, Quinn? Dr. Seuss?" she quirks an eyebrow at Quinn, who grins and shrugs. Rachel tries not to notice the catlike way Quinn rolls her shoulders through her thin t-shirt.
Why had she taken her jacket off? It wasn't that hot in here. Crap. Rachel clears her throat. "What you're saying is that the "real" Brittany enjoys messing with people's heads? She just out of the blue decided to do that? Wow. She's a really good actress, then,' Rachel comments. "Not so much out of the blue,' Quinn murmurs shiftily. She changes the subject. "Did you just compliment someone else, Berry?" "I am very capable of giving praise where praise is quite obviously due, Quinn Fabray." Rachel pouts. "Of course you are,' Quinn smirks, ignoring the tug in her belly she feels when she notices Rachel pout. That was the baby, right? Over the top of Rachel's head, Quinn notices a rapidly approaching giant male monster. "Damnit,' she mutters unconsciously. "Hey, Rachel!" Finn calls boisterously. "Quinn,' he adds, obviously less enthused. "Hello there, Finn!" Rachel greets. "Finn." Quinn does not sound at all amused. Perturbed, Finn just stares at the two girls. He wonders why they're even standing together without ripping each other's heads off, but decides against asking. Quinn had that scary
"I will cut your face" look on her face again. "Was there something you wanted to say, Finn?" Rachel probes. He focuses his gaze back on her. "Yeah, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something. Alone,' he adds pointedly, shooting a glance at Quinn. Quinn arches an eyebrow but merely says, just as pointedly, calculatedly, "Later, Rach." Sure enough, Rachel snaps her head towards Quinn's retreating back. "Um, bye, Quinn." Equally disturbed, Finn bemusedly asks, "Did Quinn just call you 'Rach', Rachel?" "Yeah. I mean, yes, Finn, I believe she did." Rachel bites her lip for a second, and then turns back to Finn. "Now, what was it you wanted?" Quinn groans under her breath as she stalks down the hall. What on earth did she just do? Call Rachel Berry 'Rach'? Her brain was melting out from the cut on her head. She touches the cut gently and swings her right arm back and forth slowly. Surprisingly enough, the cast wasn't that much of a hindrance. She could still drive, at any rate, and if Berry occasionally braced herself to die, what of it?
Berry. Berry. God, what was wrong with her? The tiny brunette was constantly invading her thoughts now. She just had this overwhelming presence that called all the attention to her, and now that Quinn was living with the girl… Quinn shakes her head. And what was wrong with Finn? She frowns. Had she called Rachel 'Rach' to piss Finn off or to make him jealous? Or make her jealous? Jealous of what? No. She had probably done it to piss him off. She did that a lot when they were dating. He was just so oblivious to everything! The 'annoy Finn with words he doesn't understand' reflex had been ingrained into her personality already. She sighs. She probably should apologise to him. He hadn't really done anything wrong, really. She feels a gentle flicker of wind against her face before she realizes that her feet have instinctively carried her to the bleachers. She watches as Santana leads the other girls in a routine she had suggested. She watches as the girls twisted and twirled, leapt and hoisted in tandem, their fluidity. This was why they always won. Sue demanded perfection, and being on the field, being part of that perfection was an amazing feeling.
She watches as Santana takes her place on the top of the pyramid and feels a mixture of pride, jealousy and frustration course through her. Unconsciously, her hand creeps down to cover her stomach. That spot is, was supposed to be, her spot. It had always been her spot. There had never been any doubt. "Q!" she hears Sue Sylvester bark at her through microphone, "Get your pasty white ass over here before I die of old age!" Just like the old days then. Bending to Sue's every beck and call. Quinn almost, almost, misses that. She prepares herself for the inevitable onslaught of verbal abuse as she approaches the woman, who today is clad in a lime green tracksuit. Kurt was going to die of an aneurysm once he saw her. She suppresses a smirk. No one could smirk in front of Sue Sylvester and live, except for Sue Sylvester herself. It's there in the rulebook, Rule #35 paragraph 3 line 5. "You think this is hard? Try being me watching you decimate these simple routines and not die! That's hard! Hit the showers!" Sue shouts. "Fabray!" Oh. She's turned off the Microphone of Evil, Death and Despair. "Coach Sylvester,' Quinn replies as calmly as she could. Showing fear was the worst thing a person could do when confronted with one Sue Sylvester.
She reacts to fear like sharks react to fresh blood. "Don't 'Coach Sylvester' me, Fabray. And don't stand so close to me; I can see your Nationals-losing uterus from here just fine,' she snaps. "What were you thinking when you decided to impregnate yourself with a Jewish gigolo's child, Q? No, don't answer that, because I do not care. You can't stay on the team. What if that thing flies out of you with '666' inscribed on its forehead and hits the judges in the face while the rings of fire are activated? It's not impressive if it doesn't pass through the middle ring. No, Q, I can't have that. That will lose us Nationals and without Nationals I can't get my hovercraft." Quinn blinks, opens her mouth, closes it again. "You know what I'll do if I don't get my hovercraft, Fabray? I will kill Will Schuester and then reincarnate him as the pony he is and harness him to my carriage and ride around in that, that's what I'll do." "Coach Sylvester, you don't have to worry. I'm quitting the Cheerios,' Quinn says clearly, cutting in before the cheerleading coach could start on how much she hates Mr. Schuester. That would be a long, drawn out, painful conversation. "You what? You're quitting the Cheerios? No one quits the Cheerios, Quinn. There are only two ways out: death or death by humiliation. You die, you're off
the team. Or, I humiliate you horribly, kick you of the team, and then you die. You can't quit." Sue says incredulously. "Well,' Quinn coughs softly, 'I quit. I recommend Santana or Brittany take my place or perhaps they cocaptain. Santana would keep them in line but Brittany's a natural at-" "Don't tell me how to do my job, preggers," Sue growls, but there is less bite in her voice than usual. She sounds almost resigned. "But you are letting me quit,' Quinn furrows her eyebrows. This is surprisingly, deceptively easy. Too easy. "Listen, Q,' ah, the catch, 'if you ever tell anyone else this so help me I will string you up from the choir room ceiling naked and leave you there to die, but when I was your age, a little older, in a moment filled with hormones and weakness,' Sue grimaces, 'I got pregnant. Turns out you can't control your ovaries with will power alone." Quinn's jaw is somewhere on the jaw. She's not sure; she can't find it to hinge it back closed. "Like you, I was the best. I was on top. Unlike you, I insisted on staying there. I fell, lost the baby and grew up into the Sue Sylvester that now stands before you,
cold, mean and alone: The Bitter Bitch from Hell. I will not have that happen on my field." For a moment, Sue Sylvester looks almost human, almost vulnerable. Then the moment passes and she scowls darkly. "And now forget everything I just told you and beat it." Quinn blinks back tears. "Forget what?" Quinn replies softly, sadly. Sue Sylvester nods once, the corners of her eyes softening the tiniest bit, and then in true Sylvester fashion, she turns on her heels and stalks off. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Berry,' Santana says politely as she and Brittany step out the door. Hiram nods but hesitates. Rachel and Leroy are cleaning up in the kitchen and Quinn is returning Brittany's quick hug. He decides that there couldn't be a better time. "Girls,' he starts quietly, but Brittany shakes her head and holds up her hand. He stares at her curiously. "You've figured it out, haven't you?' she asks, 'You've figured out that the three Cheerios who used to bully her are the three of us." Hiram nods. "I'm not sure what to say about it. Seeing
all of you here today, seeing my daughter react so well to your presence is shocking. I am also rather appalled. I can't believe you girls did all that to her. The name calling was bad enough, but to lead Slushie attacks on her? I'm surprised she's never gotten grievously sick from the constant cold." "We're sorry." This, shockingly, is from Santana. She clears her throat. "It's high school, y'know, Mr. Berry? We were a bunch of idiots who only cared about what everyone else thinks. But we've seen our fair bit of bad this week, and I can guarantee you that the bullying of the past? It will never happen again." The sincerity in her voice seems to surprise and gratify Hiram at the same time. He nods and gruffly says, "You make sure it doesn't, or the next time your dad comes in with a broken leg, I'm directing him to an intern." Santana nods, a careful smile on her face, and then she sticks her hand out. Hiram shakes it just as carefully. He then nods at the other two, lets his gaze linger on Quinn with a slight frown, and says, "I'll leave you girls to it." Still looking perturbed, he walks back into the house. Quinn grabs Santana and hugs the girl roughly. Santana, for once, doesn't pull away. She just lets the blond hug her while Brittany moves to her side to intertwine their fingers. She puts her other hand on
Quinn's shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. "It's in the past, Quinn,' Brittany smiles. Santana mumbles something and ducks out of Quinn's embrace. Quinn wipes her eyes hurriedly with the back of her hand. "I just... I never really thought about how bad it was. I wish I could go back. He's still accepting me into his home, even after all we've done. How did we manage to insult her fathers like that before?" "We didn't know any better, Q,' Santana gently punches Quinn in the arm. "Berry forgives you, right? And us?" Quinn nods, blinking back tears. "So let's just not... Let's not fuck it up this time, yeh?" she smirks slightly. This time, Santana doesn't pull away when Brittany pulls all three of them into a close hug. "So like, I'm sorry about… stuff. I could throw Karofsky in the dumpster if you want?" Finn offers. Rachel smiles despite herself and shakes her head. "Really, Finn, no more throwing people into dumpsters, not even Karofsky. Though he may or may not deserve it, it is not up to us to judge and
decide that. And it wasn't your fault, so there is no need to be sorry." Finn grins widely. "You wanna go out on Friday night?" he asks hopefully. Rachel wonders how unethical it was to go out with the very recently exed-boyfriend of the girl she had an unrequited crush on, the girl who happened to be living in her house, as a matter of fact. Her fathers wouldn't have approved. Finn wouldn't be happy when she told him she was more interested in his ex, either. "Rachel?" Crap. She was thinking far too long for a simple yes or no question. She could have feelings for the boy, couldn't she? She'd been interested in him at one point. Feelings like that didn't go away just because Quinn Fabray decided to be nice to you. They didn't. Finn was, is, a very good guy, especially when compared to the Neanderthals in the school. The only boys who weren't as bad were probably Matt and Mike. They just didn't do much. "Look, if you don't want to go,' Finn starts. "Yes, I'll go, I'll go. I mean, I would love to go,' Rachel steps in hurriedly. It was better than staying at home alone again on a Friday night while her fathers worked overtime on the people who came in after partying the night away. At home. Oh shit. She
wouldn't be alone. Quinn was living with her. Oh shit. "Great. I'll pick you up at six?" "Okay." Oh crap. What had she just agreed to? It wasn't that bad, though, was it? No one expected her to actually expect Quinn to like her back. That girl was as straight as an arrow. She was pregnant, for goodness sakes. No, going out with Finn was a great idea. She could distance herself from Quinn and use the time away from the blonde to get over her. Pining for Quinn Fabray would do nothing except get her into trouble and a broken heart. Plus, surely it was better to be with Finn than to mope around the high school alone? Finn was popular, tall enough to see oncoming Slushies from a mile away, (though hopefully Slushies were going to be banned at McKinley High), and cute. Rachel continues nodding as Finn told her about the joys and wonders of Halo 3 and how much better it was compared to Halo 2. Really, was her 'I am completely uninterested' vibe not strong enough for him to pick up on? She knows, however, that all she has to do is nod and agree to everything he says. He would be happy, she would have someone who wanted her, everyone would be happy. It was a win-win situation. Besides, it left her free to speculate on her new nickname. 'Rach'. Hmm. Quinn had called her that in
front of Finn Hudson, of all people. There were only a few possible reasons something like that had occurred. One, she could have let it slip by accident. Obviously, Quinn would be feeling quite grateful towards Rachel right now, and, if she dared to believe it, they were friends. With all those friendly feelings running rampant through her body, it wasn't that surprising that she would shorten Rachel's name to 'Rach'. Friends did that all the time. Quinn called Brittany and Santana 'Brit' and 'San', didn't she? Rachel admits it seems unlikely. Quinn had said the word very deliberately. She might have done it to annoy Finn, of course, or to 'get back' at him for being so very rude to her this morning. The human defense mechanism struck out rather strangely that way. A niggling voice whispers in her ear, it might've been jealousy. Barely a day after they break up and already Finn is trying to go out with someone else. But then, jealousy for who? For you or for him? She clamps down on the voice, strangles it and sits on it, squashing the voice firmly under her. It had probably been just a slip of the tongue. There was no point in dwelling on it. Her crush on Quinn was screwing with her thought processes and needed to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. Rachel smiles at Finn's enthusiasm as he continues
his video game idolizing. At least it couldn't possibly get any worse, she muses. Then Noah Puckerman joins them and the two of them start excitedly talking about Mario. Rachel groans and curses the universe. It was going to be a long day. Sure enough, by the end of the day, Rachel is exhausted. Finn has tailed her like a lost puppy in need of love whenever they weren't in class. Eventually, he had given up trying to talk to her about video games. They talked about glee club once, and that took up the time he needed to walk her to her next class. She then smiled at him and agreed to spend lunch period with him. Her lunch period had then been spent watching Finn chomp his way through the suspicious looking mystery meat while she cringed and lost her appetite for the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had packed. And she thought she was clingy. Obviously, Finn had some serious self-esteem issues after learning his girlfriend had slept with him best friend but really, was following her around supposed to make him feel better? She was, after all, still the lowest of the low on the totem pole. A week ago, she would have loved the attention he was now giving her. Finn Hudson was a sweet guy, good looking and talented, if a little lacking in the tact and brains department. The only problem was that she just couldn't bring herself to feel
interested. Rachel sighs and leans back against her locker. Finn had finally left her and gone home after she had insisted multiple times that she didn't need a ride, leaving her to her thoughts. She just wanted to spent time with Quinn and be friends. She didn't need her hormones and feelings getting in the way of their budding friendship. Of course, just as she was thinking this, Quinn would pop up next to her. "Boo." After letting out a bark of surprise, Rachel berates the smirking girl. "Quinn Fabray! It is not good for my peace of mind to be shattered like that, I'll have you know. You could have just- Quinn, stop smirking, it's not funny." Quinn just nods and smirks harder. Rachel huffs. "Well, are we going back or not?" "Unless you feel like staying in school until Monday. Or are you waiting for Finn?" Quinn shoots back casually. Rachel groans. "He was following me everywhere. I swear I couldn't come out of class without seeing him 3 feet away. Also, creepy when he nearly followed me into the bathroom. It was kind of sweet, but also just a little bit reminiscent of a stalker." Rachel stares suspiciously at Quinn. "I saw you hanging around a
few times as well, Quinn. You could have helped me out!" "I was with Brit and San,' Quinn says defensively. 'Besides, it was fun seeing you squirm,' she adds. Rachel shuts her locker indignantly. "It was most certainly not fun! There are only so many merits of 'Halo 3' and 'Streetfighter' I need to know about." "You looked like you were enjoying yourself anyway,' Quinn mumbles. "You can have him, y'know, if you want,' she adds in an even softer mumble as they walk to Rachel's car. Pretending to not have heard, Rachel says, "Well of course I looked like I enjoyed his constant rambling on games I have never heard of and will never play! I was being polite and feigning interest. At the very least he enjoyed himself. Sometimes I wonder about high school boys." Rachel shakes her head, then lunges for the car keys that Quinn has just pulled out of her pocket. Reacting quickly, Quinn raises them high above her head. "The hell, Berry?" "I refuse to allow you to drive anymore, Quinn. What if we get pulled over? You have a broken arm! We nearly died four times this morning alone." She stretches onto her tiptoes but the keys are just out of
her reach and she refuses to lose even more of her dignity by jumping for them. "Quinn Fabray!" Rachel complains. Amused, Quinn leans against the red Lexus and laughs. "Say please, Rachel, and I'll lower my arm by an inch." Rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a grin at the absurdity of the situation, Rachel sarcastically pleads, "Please, Quinn, please could you lower your left arm by the slightest inch so I will be able to take back the keys to my car that you are withholding from me? Because otherwise we won't get home any time soon. Please?" Quinn pretends to think about it and earns herself a glare. She chuckles and tusks the keys into Rachel's hands abruptly. "Let's go." "What do you think I was trying to do, Quinn?" When Rachel turns to the opposite direction of where her house is, Quinn curiously asks, "Where are we going?" Instead of answering her, Rachel mysteriously says, "We are going where I am driving us. You'll see soon enough. Curiosity killed the cat." Shrugging, Quinn just leans back comfortably and
switches radio stations to a rock channel. Muse's 'Uprising' starts playing. The shocking part is when Rachel starts singing along. "They will not force us They will stop degrading us They will not control us We will be victorious " She stops when she notices Quinn looking at her strangely. "What?" "You just sang along to... to 'Muse'. How do you even know this song?" Quinn realises that Rachel turns the harsh song into something that sounds slightly easier on the ears and is somehow even more soulful. "I know and like this song, for your information. I don't only listen to Broadway musical soundtracks. I listen to a wide diversity of music that ranges from pop to punk to indie to even death metal. Who knows what style a future director will ask me to sing in? It is always good to be prepared for all kinds of potential situations where I may be required to sing, or who knows, rap onstage." And then she adds, "And I like the lyrics. It's... empowering." "I see. Huh. I learn something new about the elusive Rachel Berry every day,' Quinn chuckles.
"It's not that hard to learn about me. You just never really bothered to,' she says frankly. "Right. Sorry,' Quinn mutters, unsure of what to say. Rachel beams and waves it off before taking a left turn. "Rachel,' Quinn starts cautiously, beginning to recognise the roads. "I don't suppose we would happen to be heading towards "Patty and Man's Place", would we?" "Why yes, Quinn,' Rachel says brightly, 'We are!" "Why?" "Because I'm hungry and they are a gay-friendly restaurant. Why don't you want to go?" "Because Phoebe is mean and she makes fun of me all the time!" Quinn whines. "All the more reason to go, then,' Rachel just smirks at the glare Quinn gives her. She resists the powerful urge to kiss the pout that appears on Quinn's face. Three things hold her back. One, she's driving and doesn't feel like dying. Two is her seatbelt. Three is Quinn's heterosexuality.
"There are other places to eat,' Quinn argues, 'places that serve food other than food that is fried, grilled or deep fried." "Your baby needs food, Quinn. Salad is not an option. And I skipped lunch so now I am starving." "Why'd you skip lunch? Weren't you with Finn?' Quinn smirks. 'Oh. They served mystery meat today, right?" Quinn lets out a laugh. "I bet it was fun watching him eat." Rachel shudders in her seat. "I may have been put off meat forever." "I still don't get why that means we have to go to my cousin's diner. It's a diner, Berry. They serve unhealthy food." "They also serve eye candy,' Rachel shrugs. "Ew." "Hullo, lil' cuz. Back so soon?" Phoebe grins, throwing an arm around Quinn and winking at Rachel when they walk into the diner. Rachel grins back and slips into the seat they had occupied just days ago. "Someone wanted to eat unhealthy food,' Quinn rolls her eyes and looks pointedly at Rachel.
"I like you,' Phoebe says bluntly to Rachel, her face serious, but her eyes twinkling. "Thank you, but I would never go out with a married woman,' Rachel deadpans. Quinn mutters something about gay people being so damn gay, but Phoebe laughs and says, "Food?" Phoebe takes their orders and ruffles Quinn's hair before dancing off to the kitchen. Rachel excuses herself to go use the bathroom and Quinn leans back against the soft leather, breathing in familiar scents she had grown fond of over the years. She feels herself relax as the smell of food and casual laughter fill her senses. Then her phone rings. When she sees the name on the display screen, she freezes. The phone keeps ringing. She hesitates, and then picks up. "Mom,' Quinn says quietly. "Quinn,' Judy Fabray breathes, 'hi, baby girl. Quinnie." "Hi,' Quinn says uncertainly. "How are you?" Judy knows how bad it is that she has to ask her daughter that over the phone, but she can't do anything else. She feels herself relax as she hears Quinn quietly talk about her day and how she had quit
the Cheerios. "You quit the Cheerios?" Judy asks, surprised. "Yes, mom. Did you forget that I was- that I was pregnant?" She stutters over saying she is pregnant. It doesn't come easily to her lips. Not yet. Not when she still wishes it never happened. "No, of course not, Quinnie. I just, of course, yes, you would leave the Cheerios, of course,' Judy sounds slightly flustered. A mother wasn't supposed to feel this sad or nervous talking to their own child, was she? But of course, she had been more of a mother to the bottle of vodka than her own daughter… A moment of silence, then, "Why did you call me?" Quinn winces at the harshness in her voice, but she couldn't help herself. Did her mother think a phone call was going to make up for the years of meaningless, empty words she had listened to? "I'm sorry,' Judy blurts, and then winces. She slides her free index finger around the rim of her water glass absentmindedly. She had this long speech planned out to convince her daughter that she regretted all the years of the past, all the times she wasn't there for her. She had planned to tell her daughter that she loved her no matter what, pregnant or no, Cheerio or no, perfect or imperfect. But all that managed to slip out was 'I'm sorry', but perhaps that was as a good a start as any.
"Oh,' Quinn replies emotionlessly. She can see Phoebe walking out of the kitchen, plates in hand, a curious look on her face at Quinn's frown. "Okay." "Quinn, I-I know that I'm quite a- a bad, if not the worst mother, and I'm so, so sorry for that,' she takes a breath, 'It was always easier to lose myself than to find you again." And Quinn understands, because it was easier to lash out at the world than to go back to a time when she was a happier person, a person who wouldn't insult people for no reason but to demean them. It was easier to become a bitch than to stay human. And she'd taken Santana with her, too, but Santana had Brittany. Sweet Brittany, who never caved, who was always herself and never lost herself. She kept herself afloat of the meanness and did her best to take Quinn and Santana with her whenever she could, but she never could unless they were alone in their bedrooms, just the three of them. But Quinn had sunk like a stone. And one of her victims had been Rachel Berry. The irony was in that in pushing Rachel Berry over, she had been the one to go down. Rachel just bounced back up every time, time and time again. "Quinn?" her mother calls worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm here,' she says quietly as Phoebe sets the steaming plates down in front of her before perching herself on the edge of the seat and watching Quinn curiously. "What did you want, again?" "I was just,' Judy hesitates, not knowing if she has the right to care about these things anymore, 'I was wondering where you were staying right now?" "Are you going to ask me to go home?" It's funny how the word 'home' sits so unfamiliarly on her tongue, as though her home wasn't a home. Judy coughs and uncomfortably admits, "No, I'm sorry. You can't." Quinn scoffs, and Judy hastens to add, "I would love it if you would, but I don't think it's good for you if you do. Russell… He's still angry and I don't know what he would do if you came back to live under his roof. It's good that you're out of the house, honestly, for your own sake, Quinnie." "Oh,' Quinn blinks. That was unexpected. "So where are you staying right now? I hope it's somewhere safe and not somewhere like a shelter…" Judy trails off. "I'm staying with a friend,' Quinn says cautiously. She sees Rachel walking back from the bathroom out of the corner of her eye. "Her name is Rachel." Instinct tells her to avoid Rachel's last name.
"Well,' Judy coughs uncomfortably, 'if you're going to stay with her for long, maybe you could move somewhere? Maybe move in with family? Like your cousins' place?" "Phoebe?" Quinn asks with surprise. Opposite her, Phoebe grins and gives her the thumbs-up. Quinn looks at her suspiciously. "Yes, I've cleared it with her. She says she would love to have you and I would feel less guilty if you were at least with family,' Judy pleads. 'Of course, if you don't want to you don't have to do anything. I mean, honestly, I'm not the best person to talk about family but-" "Yeah,' Quinn blurts, stopping her mother's nervous rambling, 'I'll move in with Pheebs. But uh, I'll talk to you later, mom?" Phoebe smirks and nudges Quinn when Rachel looks confused. Oh crap, Rachel. "Oh, okay,' she sounds surprised at the abrupt goodbye, but she quickly adds, 'Bye, Quinnie. I love you." "Um, I love you too, mom." Surprisingly enough, it isn't that hard for the words to come out. She hasn't said it in a while, but she finds a little bit of warmth spread through her chest when her mother warmly replies again, "I love you, Quinn. And I'm proud of
you." The line goes dead before she can figure out how to reply to that. She clears her throat and looks up at the two people looking at her. Phoebe looks vaguely amused and has a small smile on her face, as though she knows exactly how the conversation went down. Rachel looks worried and confused. "Rachel, thank you for everything you've done these past few days, but I have to move out." She thought it was a good idea to say it quickly, rather than draw it out. But she doesn't miss the flicker of hurt that flashes across Rachel's face. "Of course, Quinn. You're most welcome. I assume you're moving back in with your family? It's always best to be with your own 'kind', I suppose. And my parents will be disappointed you stayed for such a short while, but-" "Rachel, shut up, please,' but Quinn grins to show she doesn't mean it. "Really, thank you so much for everything you've done. But I'm not moving back in with my parents. I'm going to go stay with Phoebe, apparently." She gestured at her cousin, who moves to squeeze her shoulder. "Nothing against you, but I feel guilty staying at your place and not contributing, especially after everything I've… done to you." Quinn
smiles apologetically. "Oh,' Rachel swallows. "Of course." "You're welcome to come visit anytime, Rachel,' Phoebe offers. "Thank you, Phoebe,' Rachel smiles graciously, but behind the smile, she is anything but calm. She feels strangely saddened by Quinn moving out. It wasn't unexpected though, was it? Quinn had had to move out eventually. Surely she hadn't expected that by living in her home, Quinn would inexplicably return her feelings? Feelings for someone of the same sex couldn't be contracted by living in a home where being gay was accepted. You either were or you weren't. Quinn… wasn't. Rachel smiles and sits down. It had to happen eventually. She is not surprised or sad. She's not. Abrupt, sad ending to chapter for a few weeks until my exams are over? Indeed. Sorry about that. Also, I'm sorry about any mistakes because I don't have the time to read through this. If you spot any, please tell me so that I can correct it. I was looking for a song for this chapter but nothing would fit. Then iTunes gave me this and well, it worked for me, so there you have it. It's the feelings, I think. Everyone's just a little bit lost in this world and
trying to find their own way. Review? Also, I use a lot of horizontal rulers in this chapter. Sorry about that. Also, huge thanks to Sarah and Kari, respectively Recall The Love and Angelic Tourniquet, for beta-ing this chapter for me, putting up with my insanity etc. If you haven't read their works, you need to right now. They are amazing. Living with Phoebe and Amanda is… interesting. They make her eat right, go to bed on time, and actually make sure she does her homework. Even her parents hadn't cared as much about what she did. But it's also nice, because at least someone finally cares. And at breakfast and dinner, they talk and they joke and they laugh, which is a very welcome change. And it's sweet to live with a couple who so obviously love each other. They don't blatantly make out in front of her like Brittany and Santana, thank goodness, but it's the little things. It shows when Phoebe brushes past Amanda in the kitchen when she's cooking and she drops a light touch on her back and a quick kiss on the cheek or when they're watching tv and Phoebe falls asleep and Amanda just pulls her down to lie in her lap. They've
been together so many years and yet, they seem to be just as in love as they were when they first started dating. It's a harsh contrast to what Quinn sees daily in her own home. And there's the cooking, of course. There is something to be said about living with a fantastic cook. There's also something mouth-wateringly delicious about it. And then there are the dreams. It starts off innocent enough. They're in Santana's living room and somewhere in the background someone has turned on a song with too much bass and too little singing. Quinn frowns. It's probably Puck. She's on the sofa, someone in her lap, Brittany on her right. They're all very rationally and deeply involved in a conversation about how cats reading your diary obviously proved that ducks lived in hats. Then Santana, of course, walks over to drop into her girlfriend's lap and, without further ado, starts to make out with her neck. Brittany looks like she's enjoying it very much, but she doesn't stop her very serious conversation with Quinn about gay sharks and dolphins and kookaburra birds until Santana firmly pulls her around to make out with her mouth. Quinn just rolls her eyes and leans her face against the back that she was facing. She breathes in the scent and it's familiar and warm and heavenly. There's a definite
scent about it, but she can't make it out. Roses? Freesia? Vanilla? Whatever it was, it was addictive. The person giggles and Quinn wraps her arms around the girl and nuzzles her nose against her back. "Quinn, that tickles!" the person laughs. The voice sounds like home. But she doesn't know who she is. All she can see are curls of brunette hair. She runs her fingers through it and the girl tilts her head back to kiss Quinn. And then she wakes up. Quinn sits in the dark, her eyes wide and her heart racing, a lump in her throat. Already the details of her dream are slipping away from her mind like water trickling through her fingers. But she remembers the important details. She remembers the tingling that started from her toes that ran to her fingertips at the weight of the girl on her lap. She remembers the comfortable delight she'd felt at the girl's presence. She remembers that she wanted to kiss the girl. She remembers that the girl was a girl. She cups a hand over her mouth to prevent the sound of her heavy, terrified breathing waking Amanda or Phoebe up. No, she isn't gay, she isn't bisexual, and she isn't interested in girls. She isn't.It was fine if other people were and if they were happy, so be it. Brittany and Santana are happy. Phoebe and Amanda are happier together than most of the heterosexual
couples she'd seen. But she isn't. She'd never be interested in girls. She never would be. It wasn't wrong so much as not her. She isn't. Trembling, she turns the bedside lamp on and slips out of bed. She quietly opens the door and heads to the kitchen, turning on the dimmest light. Head resting on her left hand, water on the counter, she waits for her breathing to slow. She wasn't, isn't gay. She's pregnant, for Christ's sake! And she had a boyfriend, who she cheated on with another guy. She's the epitome of straight. 'I'm not gay,' she says to herself firmly. It was just a dream. She's wasn't gay. It slips out in a whisper. "I'm not gay." The silence of the kitchen and the ticking of the clock on the wall mock her. "I'm not. I like boys,' she tells the glass firmly. It ignores her. "I'm pregnant. A boy impregnated me," she says to the glass. It stands resolute. Quinn groans quietly into her palm. It's bad enough being pregnant. Does she really have to go insane and start talking to inanimate objects too? "Quinn?" Amanda is leaning against the wall, looking sleepy and gazing at her curiously. "Were you talking to the glass?" Quinn blushes. "I was just, I was talking to… myself… And the glass was… there,' she trails off weakly. Amanda chuckles and her green eyes twinkle. Quinn smiles sheepishly and admits, "Yeah, I was talking to
the glass. It was ignoring me though." The older woman seats herself across from Quinn. "Do you want to talk about it?" Quinn swallows. "Talk about what?" Amanda shrugs. "It's 2am in the morning, you're sitting in the kitchen talking to a glass of water and… Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's something to talk about, if you wanted to talk. May I?" Quinn slides her glass over to Amanda and sighs. "I woke up because I had a dream. And then I just wanted some water." She shrugs, looking away. Something about the way Quinn shirked around the word 'dream' tips Amanda off. Her eyes soften and she wonders how she's going to approach it. She hesitates and then asks, "Was it a bad dream?" Quinn chews on the inside of her cheek and shakes her head. She can feel heat rising up her neck at the memory of the dream. "No,' she says softly, 'It wasn't a bad dream at all." Amanda nods and waits for Quinn to continue. It's quiet for a while, then Quinn blurts out, "I was at a party. With a girl. And I really, really liked her." The words are bitter in her mouth, but she feels lighter at having uttered them. She's sure her entire face is
flushed by now and she's grateful for the dim lights. Embarrassed, she looks away. A slight smile tugs at Amanda's lips. She remembered being at this point so many years ago with Phoebe. But at least Quinn, unlike Phoebe, wasn't trying to run away. Then Quinn stands up and stutters a good night. Amanda rolls her eyes in exasperation. Fabrays. They were all so repressed it was ridiculous. "Quinn, get back here,' she says, jokingly stern. "I'm sorry I woke you,' the teenager mutters, falling back into the seat. "You didn't. I always wake up around this time to get some water. I usually don't encounter troubled teens who talk to water glasses though…" Amanda smiles at her and Quinn chuckles, relaxing slightly. She clears her throat. "Let me tell you a story about two girls who fell in love. One was an annoying, dumb blonde who refused to acknowledge she was completely gay. The other was a frustrated gay girl who was completely infatuated with the stupid idiot." Quinn bursts into giggles. "Seriously?" "Yeah,' Amanda whispers conspiratorially, 'Phoebe thought she was straight as an arrow. Dated guys on and off from the moment she turned 16. Infamous
serial dater. Then she met me." She winks, which makes Quinn smirk. "We were fighting over the same guy. Or so she thought. The only reason I was half naked in his house was because I was with his sister." Amanda rolls her eyes. Quinn chokes on her water. The older woman nods seriously as Quinn stares up at her with tears in her eyes. "Don't choke to death in my kitchen, honey. And then she broke up with Don without letting him explain, but he was an idiot anyway and she was probably already looking for a reason to dump him. And then Michelle decided that she was just using me to get Samantha back so then we were both single. Anyway, I spotted her crying in an alley a couple days later because Don, that dumbshit, was already with another girl. We bonded over our mutual failings and became friends." "And then I realized I wanted her to be more than a friend." Quinn is unconsciously hanging off the edge of her seat. Amanda sighs wistfully. "She was perfect, your cousin. Everyone wanted her, or so I heard. But,' Amanda smiles ruefully, 'I was the one person who couldn't have her. She was only 16 and I was 22. I was twenty-two. Technically it was legal but... At the time, though she didn't act like one, she was still a teenager and I was still an adult. I buried all thoughts of being with her at the back of my mind. We became pretty good friends, but I doubt she ever harboured any thoughts for me. I was an adult, but I didn't act very much like one. I was still floating around doing
odd jobs, trying to find my place in the world. So I hung out with a 16 year old that I was crushing on. It sounds terrible, doesn't it?' she chuckles. "Then one day she broke my heart." Quinn gapes. Phoebe and she had spoken a lot, but never much about the time she got kicked out. It had been too sensitive a subject for either one of them to approach. "She came to me one day looking like hell. We usually met at a cafe and that day, she started crying into a napkin. She said she'd been having these dreams about a girl every night for a week and she thought she was going to kill herself because she was straight and she'd never thought about any girls that way before. She knew I was gay and she was fine with that but her first question to me was 'How do I stop?'" "I'm not gay, Amanda,' Phoebe chokes into the damp napkin. They're sitting in a secluded corner of the cafe. "I'm not. I know you are and I'm fine with that but I'm not gay. I don't like girls. I can't... I can't be a lesbian. My parents would kill me. I'd die, Amanda. How...How do I stop this?" She tearfully looks up at the older woman who she could quite honestly call one of her best friends. Amanda was gaping at her and she sniffs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Amanda shakes her head. "You didn't offend me, Phoebe." She takes the girl's hand and holds it gently,
despite the painful tugging in her chest. She's not sure whether it was pain at Phoebe's sobbing or pain that the girl longed for another. "Look, it was just a few dreams, right? Maybe you just... admire this girl." It wasn't the correct advice. She should be trying to tell the girl that there was nothing wrong with being gay. Love was love was love. But then she would catch sight of Phoebe's red-rimmed eyes and the thought of making her cry even more broke her resolve. So she just tries to reassure her. But then Phoebe just shakes her head and buries it in her arms. Amanda hears a muffled "I was kissing her in most of the dreams, and I was... I was enjoying it." She hears another choked sob and feels her heart crack. She squeezes Phoebe's shoulder, the only part of her she could reach and says, "Phoebe, it'll be okay." And then she's a whirl of angry, sad blonde hair and she's glaring at Amanda and she's snarling "How will it be okay, Amanda? How?" Amanda just stared back at her in shock, not sure what to say. She'd never seen Phoebe this distraught before. "I don't know,' is the only thing that slips out from her lips. Phoebe seems to collapse into herself. "Of course,' she murmurs. And then she's running out of the cafe
and all Amanda can do is stare at her retreating back, unable to move a muscle, because the muscle in her chest, the one keeping her alive, is shattered and she can't bring herself to try to use it. Quinn in entranced in the woman's story. "What did you do after that?" "Well, after I was done being a selfish jerk obsessing over my own feelings, I called her and convinced her to talk to me instead of run." Amanda raises her eyebrow at Quinn, who grins weakly. "And I told her... I told her she shouldn't worry about it." "Phoebe." "Amanda." They sit side by side on a park bench. They break the silence at the same time. "How are you-" "I'm sorry I-" They cough awkwardly and laugh weakly. "I'm sorry I blew up at you. You didn't deserve it,' Phoebe says sincerely. Amanda shakes her head. "You're a teenager, Phoebe. I'm not exactly surprised that you did what you did. But you have years and years ahead of you.
You should relax and enjoy your high school life. Don't worry so much over your dreams and just take them in stride. They'll stop soon enough." "Oh," Phoebe says. "Or you could try just going with it and asking the girl out," Amanda glances around nonchalantly. "But I'm not-" "You might or you might not be. It doesn't matter. Just... as long as you have fun, y'know. You're a kid; you should enjoy life. Live a little, Phoebe. The world isn't a box, and if it is then you should think outside of it. Besides, would it be so bad if you were? There's nothing wrong with being gay, despite what a lot of people say," Amanda pushes gently. "I don't know. I've never even thought about it before. It's just not something I've ever thought about," Phoebe mumbles honestly. They sit in silence for a little while longer. Amanda breaks it this time. "Who's the girl?" Phoebe blushes bright red. "Some redhead on the basketball team. She's... really sweet to other people." "To you?"
Phoebe half-grimaces. "We're kind of crazy to each other. We trade insults all the time." Amanda plasters a smile on her face. "You should ask her out." Pensively, Phoebe kicks at the ground. "Y'know what, 'Manda? I just might." And then she blushes again. "That was when she embraced her little baby gayness. Obviously, she and the redhead were pretty into each other and they dated for a few months until they mutually broke up. They were too hot-headed for each other but they're still friends to this day. You know Leanna?" Quinn nods. "Her hair is blue now, but she's still the same 16 year old who called Phoebe a 'blonde bimbo'. Of course, Phoebe called her 'Archie' so... Mm, anyway, I don't suppose you got my point throughout the entire story, did you?" Amanda laughs sheepishly. "I think maybe I sort of did. I'm not sure yet." "Really, Quinn, don't worry so much about it. Whether you are or you're not, you've still got us. And if it's just a phase and you turn out straighter than Phoebe was, then, well, you've still got us. Goddamn that was cheesy." "Yeah,' Quinn laughs, 'it was. But thanks."
Amanda stands and gives her a one-armed hug and ruffles her already messy hair. "Go back to bed, youngster. You've got school tomorrow." Quinn rolls her eyes but returns the hug and then returns to bed. Sleep is hard to come by but she forces all her confusing thoughts away. Sleep first, then in the morning she would wonder about her sexuality. But even in sleep, she searches for a brunette with the taste of vanilla on her tongue. She crawls out of bed and almost face plants into her cereal when Phoebe slaps her on the back. "I always knew you had it in you, Quinn!" Quinn glares at her cousin, who just grins back cheekily. "You told her?" It's a rhetorical question. Amanda and Phoebe tell each other everything. "Don't worry about it, Quinn. You'll figure it out,' Phoebe says, seriously this time. She shrugs. By the time she's dropped off at school she is presentable, but tired. Thank goodness it's already Friday. Santana and Brittany stroll over to her, students ducking out of Santana's way. Santana looks like she's about to deliver Quinn her daily pregnancy insult, but at the tired look in Quinn's eyes, she falters.
"What's wrong with you today, Q? Spent the night crying or something?" Santana gives Quinn a onceover. "You look like crap, by the way." "I'm fine,' she says shortly, slamming her locker shut. "I just... didn't sleep very well." Brittany loops her arm into Quinn, and, between her and Santana, they make it to History in record time. Quinn slumps into her usual seat right at the very back, Santana on her right, Brittany in front of her. "What happened? You're living with your cousins now, right?" Quinn nods and bites her lip. She could talk to her two best friends about this, right? Santana would probably laugh and tease her a lot, but she'd give good advice too. And Brittany would say something wise and make it all better. She takes a breath. "I had a dream last night." The words get stuck in her throat. Brittany smiles knowingly, but Santana looks confused. "Did you dream about bacon?" "No!" Quinn exclaims. "It was... it was about a girl." And she knows by the widening of her eyes that Santana knows what she means. And she knows that it'll be okay when Santana smirks. "Well, Fabgay, it's about time,' the girl drawls. Brittany chuckles, but tells Santana to shut up.
Thunderstruck, Quinn hisses, "What do you mean 'it's about time'?" Santana shrugs. Under her breath, Brittany mutters, "Pornographic bathroom wall doodles." Quinn gapes at the two of them. "It was just a dream! I'm not... I'm not..." But she can't bring herself to finish the sentence, because what if she was? Was she? Santana takes pity on the bewildered, spluttering girl. "Chill, Quinn." Quinn just stares at her, a wounded look on her face. Santana rolls her eyes. She hates it when Quinn did that. It made her feel less like being a bitch and more like being a comforting friend. Ugh. "Look, who'd you dream about anyway?" Embarrassed again, Quinn mutters "I don't know. I couldn't see her face. But she smelled like vanilla." When the Cheerios turn to stare at her, Quinn groans, a deep flush creeping up to cover her entire face, and slumps onto the table. She feels stupid now, for saying that last part. "Wow, Q, you are seriously not straight, at the very least. I don't care that you're the next Juno." Santana sounds amused.
Thoughtfully, Brittany muses, "I remember kissing a girl who smelled like vanilla. It was a few months ago... I think it was either Anna or Rachel..." Santana's jaw drops and she discreetly wipes her mouth. "You kissed Rachel Berry? What the hell, Brittany! That is disgusting! And Anna is... ew. Do you even know what that slut puts into her mouth? Oh my god, I need mouthwash right now." Brittany glares adorably at Santana. "It was months ago. Anna was drunk and you were making eyes at Puck. Back off. And I kissed Rachel a few weeks ago because she looked like she needed a kiss. It's no big deal. She made me 'thank you' cookies... She's a good kisser though." Brittany shrugs. Santana is still making gagging motions when she notices Quinn staring straight ahead looking like she's about to go into shock. She waves a hand in front of the blonde's face, all imitations of puking forgotten. "Hey, Q, blondie, hey, you okay?" Brittany, worried, gazes into Quinn's eyes. Blank hazel-green eyes blink back at her. Vanilla. Rachel Berry. Soft brunette locks. "Quinn, that tickles!" That laugh. "I'm just... extremely ticklish there." No, no, NO. Quinn takes shallow breaths and swallows with
difficulty. She looks up at Santana and Brittany's worried faces and people begin to trickle into the classroom. "I think in that dream… The girl I wanted to be with was… Rachel Berry." And then she runs to the bathroom to throw up. She was cutting class so often these days compared to her impeccable record a week ago… "So I'll pick you up at 6?" Finn grins at her as he pulls books from his locker. Rachel smiles back and follows him down the hallway. "Yes. Don't be late, Finn. I find punctuality a very attractive trait in a person. Just so you know." Finn's grin turns uncertain. A few feet ahead of them, a blonde girl barrels past the people in the hallway into the girl's bathroom. Finn squints. "I think that was Quinn." Rachel nods slowly. "I think that was Quinn, too." She hadn't really spoken to Quinn since the girl had so abruptly, but with many repeated gracious thanks, moved in with her cousins two days ago. They didn't have the same classes and glee club didn't meet until today.
Finn stops her from walking into the doorframe. "Later, Rach,' she nods as Finn heads towards his Math class. Rachel bites her lip and then makes her decision. Really, who needed History anyway? The sound of someone retching comes from the second last stall. Rachel nods approvingly to herself. It would've been rude to mess the first few stalls up and the last stall was always where people went to throw up, so it was really gross. She nudges the door open. Quinn coughs into the toilet bowl and flushes, then freezes when she turns and notices Rachel. "Hello, Quinn,' Rachel greets lightly. Quinn blinks like a deer caught in the headlights. "Hey, Rachel,' she croaks out, then squirms past the girl to wash her mouth out. She had no desire for the girl she was possibly crushing on to catch any scent of her morning sickness breath. Milk and cereal going down was pretty dull on the taste buds, but coming up? Disgusting. "Are you okay, Quinn?" Rachel stands awkwardly at the sink, then she realises how ridiculous it is to ask someone a question when they're busy swishing water around in their mouth. But then Quinn tries to answer and the blonde ends up choking the water back into the sink. She coughs painfully, feeling her
throat burn. Rachel pats Quinn on the back delicately. "Breathing would be a good idea,' she suggests. Quinn nods and tries to move away from Rachel without appearing to move away from Rachel. She couldn't deal with being so close to the girl, not when she seemed to be crushing on her. Not only did it have to be a girl, it had to be Rachel Berry. Really though, it isn't that bad. Rachel is quite obviously pretty, almost hot, if Quinn allowed herself to really look. Those skirts don't hide very much of her fantastic legs, and though argyle was a terrible design that should never have been allowed to live, the sweaters are flattering on her figure. Her very nice figure. And she has a heart made of gold. She is admittedly amazing inside and out and normally, Quinn would be all over someone like her. But she is a girl. And Quinn isn't gay. She is just... confused, probably. Puberty's a bitch, no? Rachel frowns at the speechless girl. Quinn's eyes are darting everywhere and Rachel wonders whether the blonde is suffering from some kind of fit. "Quinn, are you alright? Would you like to go to the nurse?" Quinn shakes her head, focusing on the moment. "No, I'm fine. I, uh, thanks for asking, but I have to... get back to class!" Quinn grabs onto the first excuse
she can think of. "History. I have to get back to History. Yeah,' she mumbles. Bemused, Rachel says, "Okay. I'll walk with you. You are aware we share the same History class?" And then Quinn blinks rapidly because it had slipped her mind. She shrugs non-committally and heads toward the door after wiping her hands and mouth with a paper towel. But she holds the door open for Rachel self-consciously. Rachel shoots her a small smile. "See you in glee later,' Rachel mutters when Quinn opens the classroom door before slipping inside. When she walks into class together with Rachel, she's pretty sure Santana almost has a heart attack and Brittany might squeal with delight, but then she discreetly and sombrely shakes her head at them. She wasn't gay for Rachel Berry. Not in the least. But yes, maybe she did have the tiniest crush on her. Nothing to write home about. It was the size of Earth compared to the entire Universe. Just the smallest flame for Rachel legs Berry. Shit. Quinn's pen slips from her fingers to clatter noisily onto the floor. Santana hands it back to her with a raised eyebrow and a murmured 'Pull it the fuck together, Quinn.' Shitshitshitshitshit. She'd caught
herself staring at Rachel's legs from two rows across. Shitshitshitshitshit. Mary mother of Jesus. She really was kind of gay for Rachel Berry. Shit. Rachel is disappointed, but not too surprised, when Quinn seems to go out of her way to avoid her for the rest of the day. It was noticeable. For the past two days she had walked past her with quick smiles and greetings, but today, Quinn practically knocks Tina over in her haste to go back down the hallway when she sees Rachel. She sighs as she slams her locker shut. She's disappointed, but she's not hurt. She's not. It was for the best. The further Quinn stayed away from her, the less she would think about the blonde, and the less she thought about the blonde, the more she could think about Finn. Who she had a date with in 6 hours. Yes, it was best to not think about Quinn or the pain in her chest when she watched the blonde almost run away. Her inner voice snickers and mocks her. You're not exactly not thinking about her. She scowls. Shut up, she tells it. You're supposed to be in my head, not annoying the crap out of me. The voice rolls its eyes but shuts up. Great, now there was a screenplay going on in her head. Rachel sighs again as she heads to lunch. It had only been a matter of time until Quinn got tired of her, of course. Finn was only sticking around because no one else seemed
interested in him, which was strange. Friends. Who was she kidding? When she walks into the cafeteria, she's almost immediately accosted by Mercedes and Kurt. She obligingly follows them to the table where Tina and Artie are already sitting rather than risk trying to wrench her arms away. "Hey, Rachel,' the two of them greet her in unison. "Tina, Artie, hello there." She sets her brown paper bag down and sits down opposite them. Mercedes and Kurt drop onto the seats on either side of her. "How've you been, Rachel?" "I'm fine, thank you for asking, Mercedes,' Rachel starts nibbling around her cheese sandwich. "You're not going to break down for no reason or anything like that, are you?"Kurt asks suspiciously, and though he tries to mask it, Rachel is grateful to hear the sincerely worried tone in his voice. He tries to cover it up with a nonchalant, "Because then Sectionals would be much harder to take, but... Y'know..." he trails off weakly. Rachel allows herself to smirk. "I'm a perfectly well adjusted teenager, Kurt. I'm so glad you care. On the other hand, you being one of the only out homosexuals on the team, are you under any
pressure? Would you like someone to talk to?" she's teasing him and he knows it. He smiles sheepishly and says, "No, Rachel, I don't need any of your argyle help, thanks." "Okay, okay, time to break up this love fest,' Mercedes jokes. They chuckle and then she and Kurt start gossiping about Anna Berkeley and how she and Adam McAdam (really who the hell actually named their kid that?) had been spotted in the park at midnight together. Tina objects to this, telling them that Jacob Ben Israel was a terrible source of information. Artie rolls his eyes at Rachel and offers to trade her half of his peanut butter and jelly. "They're like that all the time,' he stage whispers to her. Rachel grins and passes him half of her own sandwich. Well, perhaps she did have friends, even if they were kind of bitchy and self-absorbed. Really, it was worth sitting with them listening to inane topics when she sees Kurt's eyes pop out and he almost chokes to death when Mercedes points out Sue Sylvester's lime green tracksuit. Having friends was amusing. And when Tina laughs with her, it's a nice change from the laughter she usually hears that's directed at her. Yes, having friends was nice. And then Quinn walks in.
"C'mon, let's go sit with Kurt,' Brittany tugs on Santana's arm, who in turn pulls Quinn along. She stops when she realises the ex-Cheerio isn't following her. Santana scowls. "Move your ass before I drag you over there, Q." "But Rachel's over there,' she mumbles. "I don't care. Where the fuck is your backbone? Get a grip, woman." With that, Santana pushes her until her feet reluctantly carry her over to the table. Kurt welcomes Brittany cheerfully and Tina moves over to make room for Santana. The only space left is between Kurt and Rachel, and Brittany quickly, with a sly grin at Quinn, slips into the seat next to Kurt. Shit. "Hi, Rachel,' Quinn says quietly. "Greetings, Quinn." Quinn is hyperaware of Rachel's every movement to lift her sandwich up to her mouth. And when she licks her lips, Quinn flushes. "You okay, Q? Your face looks a little red,' Santana comments. She hides her smirk remarkably well. Rachel's bare leg brushes against Quinn's bare one and Quinn almost yelps. Rachel hides her own blush better than Quinn, but she does catch a glimpse of Quinn's flaming cheeks and she feels herself grow
worried. "Santana's right, Quinn. Do you feel feverish? You might be coming down with something." Quinn shakes her head rapidly. "I'm fine." She coughs awkwardly. "We should have a sleepover,' Brittany suddenly announces. Santana agrees lewdly, which makes Kurt grimace and Artie blink. "A proper one, San,' Brittany pouts. "Are you inviting us as well?" Tina looks confused and slightly apprehensive. "Just the girls. And I guess Kurt." Brittany shoots him an apologetic look, but he doesn't look offended in the least. "When and where?" he asks, immediately thinking of activities. "Well, usually it's just me, San and Quinn at Quinn's house but..." Brittany glances over at Quinn, who shrugs. "My house,' Santana offers at a poke from Brittany. "Tonight, since Puck's usual Friday booze night is cancelled." Artie looks a little put out, but Tina grins at him and, resigned, he just holds her hand. Quinn nervously draws circles on her knee with her
finger. Rachel watches her discreetly as Quinn shifts her leg away from hers. The blonde was acting strangely and she couldn't quite put her finger on why. Lost in their own jumbled thoughts, neither girl hears the question directed at them until Mercedes repeats herself in an exasperated tone. "Are the two of you coming?" Quinn nods absentmindedly, ignoring Santana's huge smirk at Mercedes' choice of words, and stiffens slightly when Rachel shakes her head. "As much as I would love to join you all for a night of girl-talk and whatever other decidedly excited activities, I have a prior engagement with Finn. We're going on a date,' she explains when they stare at her strangely. Tina shrugs and they continue making plans, but Quinn can't swallow past the lump in her throat. Finn. Of course. Just when she'd figure out that she might be sort of maybe interested in the brunette, she would have an 'engagement' with Finn. The thought makes her shiver involuntarily. Rachel glances at her curiously and touches her palm to Quinn's forehead. "You don't feel like you're coming down with anything,' Rachel remarks, 'but you should probably go see the school nurse." "She's not coming down with anything,' Santana says dismissively before crudely adding under her breath, 'She might want to go down on someone though."
Tina, the only one who hears, looks at Santana in confusion. Rachel mirrors the look when Quinn rapidly gets out of her seat. "That's a great idea. I'll go see her right now. Bye." And then she's gone. "What in the name of Gaga's Alejandro video is wrong with her?" "No idea. She's probably just feeling a little... under the weather. She might want to come out from under it soon though,' Santana grins evilly. Everyone else looks confused, but Brittany kicks her under the table. Rachel frowns at the table. Quinn wasn't trying to avoid her that badly, was she? Surely being in Rachel's company wasn't that unbearable. Quinn is glad to find that the school nurse is no long Terri Schuester. Quite frankly, the woman scared her only slightly less than Sue Sylvester. She's still struggling with the decision of whether or not to tell Mr. Schuester that his wife was lying to him. It's not her place to tell, but then, as she's found out, lying didn't do anything except delay the inevitable, painful truth. On the other hand, she didn't want to be responsible for breaking up a marriage. She sighs as her feet take her past the nurse's office to the guidance counsellor. Emma Pillsbury might have been a germaphobe, but
she was pretty nice and tried to help the students out as much as she could. Quinn takes a breath and knocks on the open door. She peers into the seemingly empty office and almost walks away, but then she sees a shock of red hair emerge from under the desk. Miss Pillsbury, her eyes huge as usual, blinks at Quinn. "Quinn! I was just cleaning the underside of my desk. There were uh- never mind. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Emma asks as she clambers back onto her chairs, almost immediately squeezing a dollop of hand sanitizer into her palm and rubbing her hands together. The redhead gestures at the chair across her desk and Quinn nervously slides into the seat. "I... recently began to develop feelings for someone I really shouldn't have feelings for." Quinn bites her lower lip anxiously. It was different to admit her feelings to Emma than to admit them to people like Brittany and Santana. She'd known them for years. Emma Pillsbury wonders yet again why she'd decided to be a guidance counsellor. She herself had practically no relationship experience, and seeing as she was now in love with a married man, she was probably the worst person to ask for relationship advice. But that seemed to be the only thing teenagers worried about nowadays.
"Well, um, why shouldn't you have feelings for this person?" Emma asks cautiously as her fingers twitch to adjust the pens in front of her. Quinn clears her throat. "It's a girl. And it's Rachel Berry. I think I might be gay,' she adds hoarsely. Emma blinks rapidly, her hands skimming the tops of her neat row of brochures. She frowns when she realises that she has nothing that could help. 'I can't stop touching myself' didn't seem very suitable. Oh dear. She wasn't very well-equipped to handle this situation. She struggles with her words "We're at a point in time when there's nothing wrong with being gay, Quinn. It's perfectly normal if you are,' Emma says, trying to comfort the worried-looking teen. Quinn just gives her a half shrug and mutters again, "But it's Rachel Berry." "What's wrong with Rachel Berry?" Emma is confused here. "She's... she's... she's Rachel Berry!" Quinn throws her hands up in frustration and slumps onto the desk, tears leaking out of her eyes even though she doesn't know why. "I'm not supposed to be gay,' she chokes into her arms, 'I'm already pregnant and disgraced and out of my home. Do I really need to- to be, to be gay on top of that?"
Emma bit her lip and patted Quinn's shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "There's nothing to be ashamed of,' she says quietly, and then ignoring the germs that surely are on Quinn's hands, she takes one and squeezes it gently. Quinn looks up at her, tears in her eyes. "I know,' she whispers, 'but..." "You're 16 years old, Quinn. You should... relax and not worry about it so much." Emma pats Quinn on the shoulder one last time. It's probably in her head, but her palm itches and she desperately tries to resist the urge to sanitise her hands again. The blonde raises her head and the weight of the world seems to be resting on her shoulders. "That's what everyone keeps telling me, but it's not exactly something I can control, is it?" She huffs. "Never mind. I don't suppose I should have expected any other advice. Thanks anyway." She gets up to leave. Struck by a sudden bolt of sadness, a word slips out from Emma's lips unbidden. "Wait." Quinn stops and waits. "Quinn, you don't need a label for this. If you feel what you feel... You should ask her out." Emma isn't sure where the words come from, because she surely couldn't take this advice for herself, but a crooked
smile appears on Quinn's face. "Thank, Miss Pillsbury." The next time Rachel sees Quinn, she's seated between Finn and Matt. Brittany, from behind Quinn, waves at her and Rachel waves back, but Quinn just shoots her a brilliant, friendly smile. Santana rolls her eyes and drags the other two to the back of the room, Quinn whispering furiously into Santana's ear as she does. Rachel sighs and turns back to Finn, who is telling her how weird it is that people put pineapples on their pizza. When she turns to Matt, he gives her an amused grin. She groans inwardly. "Santana, fucking let me go!" "To do what, Preggers? Jump her bones? Look, if you really want to gay out over Rachel Berry I'm not going to stop you, but you need a fucking plan, okay? Did you not notice the overgrown manchild sitting on her left?" Santana almost forces Quinn to sit between her and Brittany. Quinn groans quietly. "I don't know, S. I just... Can I not label this?" "If you don't want to then don't,' Brittany says quietly.
She trails a finger along Santana's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on her, San. Be nice." Santana rolls her eyes apologetically. You can tell with Santana. If she was being mean, she would roll them with a snarl on her face. If she was just being sarcastic, the rest of her face wouldn't move. If she didn't mean it, which was as close to an apology as you could get with Santana Lopez, she'd roll her eyes while chewing on her tongue. It had been this way ever since they were 9. Quinn wonders if Santana herself knows her tells. "Fine. Look, just chill, alright? There's no need to be such a repressed lesbian or bisexual or whatever the fuck you are." Something goes off in Quinn's mind. 'Repressed lesbian'. 'Pressed lemon'. So subconsciously she'd always known she wasn't completely straight. She crumples over the chair in front of her. "God, what's wrong with me?" "I don't know. You were born like that,' Santana smirks and Brittany flicks her on the head. "Ow, Brit!" "You had it coming,' Quinn mumbles. "Shut up."
"No, you shut up." "Are you coming straight over or are you going back to pick up some stuff? I do have pyjamas that would fit you." Brittany interjects, breaking up their age-old argument. Some things never change, she thinks. "I'll just go back with you guys, if you don't mind. I don't have a car anymore and I don't want to trouble Phoebe or Amanda." "Great!" Brittany grins. "Okay, you guys!" Mr. Schuester announces while walking into the room, effectively cutting off all conversation. He walks to the whiteboard and scribbles 6 unintelligible letters. He turns to face the confused club. "Who can tell me what this is?" Brittany's hand goes up abruptly. "It's a male duck,' she says. Sniggers are heard all around and Mr. Schuester looks confused. "Brittany, a ballad isn't a male duck. It's a song through which a person can express their feelings-' He is cut off by Rachel, who raises her hand as high as it will go. Mr. Schuester nods in her direction, slightly put off. "Actually, Mr. Schuester, a ballad is a
narrative poem, often of folk origin and intended to be sung, consisting of simple stanzas and usually having a refrain or the music for such a poem. A ballad is now most commonly a popular song especially of a romantic or sentimental nature." "You took that from the Internet,' Kurt points out. Rachel glares at him and folds her arms across her chest haughtily. Brittany rolls her eyes, unnoticed by the rest of the club who have turned back to face the front. She nudges Quinn and mutters, "His handwriting is so bad I thought he wrote 'mallard'. Jerkface,' she pouts, and Quinn grins. "Thank you, Rachel. Anyway, it's Friday today so I will give you until Tuesday to practice on a ballad you will sing with one other person. But the catch is, this person will be decided... by fate!" He suddenly whips out a hat. Discreetly raised eyebrows are exchanged all around. "Each person will pick a name out of the hat. Inside the hat are the names Rachel, Tina, Brittany, Kurt, Puck and Artie. Would everyone else kindly step forward to pick a name?" Amid half-hearted protests, the other six of them do get up and head towards the hat. Finn is the first to grab a name. He looks weirded out. "Puck."
Puck makes a face. "Dude, we're not singing some wimpy love song to each other. That's just gross." He misses the narrow-eyed glare Kurt shoots him. Mr. Schuester hastens to say, "As Rachel very kindly pointed out, a ballad can be a narrative poem. It's a way to say things through song that you wouldn't say in words." Neither of the boys look convinced, but Finn shrugs and walks back to sit next to Rachel. Rachel finds that she's relieved he hadn't picked her name out of the hat. She squashes the relief under the weight of his hand on hers. Matt takes a name next but before he can say who he picked, Santana casually sticks her hand into the hat and says "Brittany" without even glancing at the paper. She artfully passes him her paper. Matt shrugs and says, "Tina." Mike gets Kurt, who looks thoughtful, and then it's Quinn's turn. Her heart is pounding hard in her chest. She chooses the folded paper on the left, leaving the last one for Mercedes. Rachel and Artie wait for her, Rachel with a hurriedly squashed hope-devil on her shoulder. "Rachel,' she says, hoping her voice doesn't sound as constricted as her throat feels. Once again, raised
eyebrows are exchanged all around except by Brittany and Santana, who shoot each other sly grins. The rest hadn't seen Quinn tormenting Rachel since she'd been Slushied, and though some of them had seen Quinn be quite protective and rage over the brunette's rights, they didn't know what their feelings toward each other were. Kurt wonders whether they would sing something like Simple Plan's 'Shut Up' or some other passive-aggressive song. Mercedes takes the last name, and, unsurprised, says "Artie." The wheelchair-bound boy looks bemused. "Well then! Good luck with your partners and I will see your performances on Tuesday. Right, now if Mike and Brittany could come up and demonstrate some steps for us?" Quinn stares hard at the back of Rachel's head. Almost as if she'd noticed, the brunette turns and meets Quinn's eyes. She makes a telephone out of her hand, motioning for Quinn to call her 'to discuss what song we will sing'. Rachel mouths the last part and Quinn gives her a weak thumbs-up. "Well, Fabray, you just got hit in the face with 'Plan I Will Bone Rachel Berry after I Sing a Ballad with Her'. As gross as it is, congratulations,' Santana's barb is muttered only distractedly under her breath though, because at the front of the room, Brittany is being spun around by Mike and Santana is busy
appreciating the view. "Bone?" Quinn squints at Santana. Santana gives her a look. "Right,' Quinn breathes out, 'bone, right." After rehearsals, Quinn only has the time to give Rachel a quick wave before Finn closes in and Santana and Brittany drag her away before she can snarl at him. Later, she receives a text that reads 'If you're free on Saturday you could come over and we'll figure out a song to sing. Is that okay?' Her first reply went something along the lines of 'I would love to come over. Why don't you pick some songs first? I figured you'd want to do something from 'Wicked', knowing you. Haha. ;P' She deleted the entire thing. Her actual reply was 'Sounds great. C u then.' Pathetic, she tells herself. Absolutely pathetic. "Rachel, what's wrong? You look distracted. In fact, you've looked like that since I picked you up." Finn takes a gulp of his soda. Her fork swirls the pasta around and she's entranced by the way it keeps spinning around on her plate. "I
just have a lot on my mind, Finn. Sorry,' she glances up at him. Finn shrugs and takes another bite of his burger. They're sitting in Breadstix because it's the only place where students can eat affordable food. Lima, Ohio is not a place with many dining options. The pasta was slightly lumpy. Rachel frowns and sets her fork down. Finn is still working through his burger. She wonders what she really expected from this date. It was as normal a date as a date could be. They'd watched a movie where Rachel couldn't understand why everyone tried to kill everyone else and Finn was enraptured by the guns and cars, and now they were having dinner at Breadstix. She hadn't expected anything more, and now she wasn't getting anything more. It was a date with Finn Hudson, who had opened the car door for, held her hand as he paid for the tickets, and let her choose whether she wanted the aisle seat or the one next to the wall. He tried to listen to her, but she could tell when his eyes began glazing over by her fifth sentence. She'd changed the subject. It wasn't so much boring as just... dull. Finn was dull. He was a great catch. He's sweet and as thoughtful as a sixteen-year-old guy could be, but for Rachel Berry, he was duller than watching Mr. Schuester rap. They didn't have any interests in common. They didn't
click. Rachel's head turns when she sees a blonde walk into the restaurant. Her head whips back when she realises what she'd just done. Guilt settles into her gut next to the lumpy pasta. For two seconds, she'd hoped that it had been... But that was ridiculous. Quinn was at the sleepover. The one you were invited to but declined to go because you had a date with Finn. I hope you're enjoying yourself. Well, there's her annoying inner voice, back right on cue too. Shut up, she tells it. I'm on a date with Finn. Stop making me think of Quinn. She's straight and not interested. I'm not ruining this friendship. I'm not making you think of anything. I am you. I'm just pointing out that- Okay enough shut up already.She forces herself to stop talking to herself in her head. It's just that when you didn't have a lot of friends, you ended up desperately looking for someone to talk to and, well, you always had yourself, after all. Rachel queasily pushes the pasta away from her and resolves to never again order it if she ever again had the unfortunate cause to come to Breadstix. Finn looks up and pauses in his meal to ask her, "Are you gonna finish that?"
Rachel shakes her head. "I'm full,' she lies, surprised at how easy it was. "Do you mind if I-" "No, go ahead,' Rachel pushes the plate towards him. He shoots her a grin. She really shouldn't be that surprised that he had such a big appetite. The boy was a giant. But still, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom when he starts finishing off her pasta with gusto. Rachel Berry takes one look at herself in the bathroom mirror and finds resentment bubbling right under the surface of her skin. Resentment at Finn, for being so hard to hurt, resentment at Quinn, for being so hard to resist, and resentment at herself, for being so good at lying to herself. But mostly resentment at herself for being a terrible person who was willing to forge false feelings for another person just to be able to walk down the hallway with someone willingly walking by her side. Rachel bites her lower lip hard and tastes blood. She resolves that it's time to stop lying to them both. It had never been the time. But she's tired of telling herself that her feelings for him would come back. He would make a good friend and probably a great boyfriend, but just not her great boyfriend.
Rachel wonders whether Quinn is having a better time at the sleepover than she is at her date. She hopes so. When the bottle lands on her, Quinn doesn't hesitate to say "Truth." Half an hour ago, Santana had intercepted Brittany's dare by Mercedes to eat an entire can of suspicious-looking tuna that made her throw up. Santana, in true Lopez-roundabout-revenge fashion, dared Kurt to finish an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids within 4 minutes which made him throw up and get extremely annoyed with Mercedes. Quinn had since resolved to avoid dares for the rest of the night. Tina says, "Are there any guys you like right now? Or do you still like Finn or Puck or... whatever?" Her finger tapping against her root beer is the only betrayal of her nerves at asking Quinn the question. An image of Rachel in jeans leaps into Quinn's mind unbidden and Quinn almost chokes on her Mountain Dew. She sets it down while she coughs, buying herself some time. She could always lie, but then... She was surprised to find that she wasn't that reluctant to admit it. They'd enjoyed the evening, with Kurt being smarmily hilarious and Mercedes being less of a diva than usual. Quinn realised that Tina was really nice under all her Goth-wear and Brittany and Santana were... BrittanyandSantana. At least they hadn't snuck off to
have sex... yet. But so far the evening had been pretty fun and hearing Santana admit that her worst fear was unicycles had been the funniest thing she'd ever heard. The two cheerleaders are staring at her with identically raised eyebrows, waiting for her to lie, but the other three are just waiting for her impatiently. "Spill, Quinn,' Kurt demands, a wicked grin on his face. Quinn lets out a breath. Well, at least the majority of them there were already gay anyway. "It's not Finn or Puck," she says slowly and Kurt seems to relax. She swallows and mutters, "And it's not a guy." Brittany pats her knee sympathetically while Mercedes exclaims in utter disbelief. "Say what?" Tina just blinks sporadically and Kurt, after a few seconds of shock, nods sagely. "I knew I couldn't have been the only gay person in glee club. Besides those two anyway,' he gestures at Santana and Brittany. The Latino looks up from her spot on Brittany's shoulder to glare at him. He continues, 'But they're sketchy. And it is, after all, a glee club." "So I'm in a room full of gay people?" Mercedes just sounds vaguely amused now. Tina objects with, "I'm straight and I have a boyfriend," which starts them off on a discussion over the sexual orientation of the other boys in glee. Mike is mentioned several times
and Puck is completely ignored in their conversation. Relieved that her confession hadn't elicited anything more dramatic than that, Quinn meets Kurt's curious gaze. "Not that I'm not completely delighted at your sudden coming out, but you haven't told us who it is,' Kurt says slyly, but with a grin. Quinn blushes and looks to Brittany for support. She rolls her eyes when she sees the blonde whispering into Santana's flushed neck. "Cut the PDA, you two,' she grimaces. Brittany detaches herself with small smile, but Santana gives Quinn an unamused look. "Q, just because you're sexually frustrated because the chick you want is with some other dude right now doesn't mean you get to cockblock me. F'off." The three of them exchange wide-eyed glances before Kurt blurts out, "Oh my god, you like Rachel Berry." Santana groans. "Oh my god, you losers, you just figured that out?" Quinn buries herself under a pillow. Someone drops down beside her and pats her on the back. "Don't worry, Quinn, we won't tell her. Or blackmail you. But it's tempting." She looks up at Kurt, who smiles at her awkwardly.
"Thanks,' she mumbles. "You're singing a ballad with her, aren't you?" Tina chirps in. "It's the perfect opportunity, Quinn,' Kurt nods. "As gross as thinking about you and Rachel is, I'm with them,' Mercedes admits. Confused, Quinn just cocks her head. "What are you talking about?" "Fate has laid a hand, Fabray, and we are Fate's helpers. We're going to help you get the girl,' Kurt points at Quinn dramatically. "I love romance stories,' Tina sighs. "Hey, speaking of ballads, Matt told me he actually got Brittany,' Mercedes laughs and Santana blushes. "San, you made Matt lie?" "You made me end up having to duet with Matt? I've never even heard him speak much less sing. Thanks a lot, Santana,' Tina grumbles at a glowering Santana Lopez. "Shut up, you losers."
"You're whipped,' Kurt says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. A pillow hits him in the head, barely avoiding Quinn's nose. "Shut up!" Quinn just lets herself smile. Review? Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own my plot, my own work, and some characters like Phoebe and Amanda. Note: This Kiss-Faith Hill Also, I'm sorry this took forever, but I had exams and then the chapter refused to be written. Fairly filler-ish, but I hope to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. Quinn fidgets in seat for a minute before Santana rolls her eyes and snarls, "Are you getting out or not, wimp?" The trio is sitting in Santana's car outside Rachel's house. She cracks her knuckles nervously. "I don't know if this is a good idea. I mean, what if-" "For fuck's sake, woman. We already helped you pick out a fucking song. Just go and sing the damn song already." Santana had never been a morning person
and having to wake up at 8a.m. to send her best friend to a midget's house had not improved her mood. Brittany prods Santana in the shoulder, "Don't be mean, San," and turns to face the backseat. "Look, Quinn, you're Quinn Fabray. She would be an idiot to not like you. Oh and I think I forgot to mention this but I saw her watching you change when we were in her house the other day. And she looked like she liked what she was seeing." Brittany grins. Quinn gapes. "Really?" She should feel creeped out, really, it's unhealthy to feel quite so flattered, but the thought of Rachel watching her sends a shiver down her spine. She blushes when Santana makes a face. "Okay out of my car. Brit and I need to practice for this stupid thing, too." Quinn lets out a quick breath and grabs her bag. "What're you two singing anyway?" Santana smirks cockily. "You'll see. Now out! And take your backbone with you too, Fabray!" Quinn rolls her eyes but gets out of the car. "Thanks for the ride." She straightens her back and gives the moving car a half wave as she started towards the front door. When she rings the bell, it's Hiram who opens the
door for her. "Quinn,' he greets sombrely. "Morning. Is there a problem?" she feels an abrupt surge of worry for Rachel before Hiram rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "Not exactly. Come on in. Rachel... Last night... I'll let her tell you herself. Go on upstairs." Quinn tosses Leroy a quick hello and a wave before hurrying up the stairs while trying to appear as though she wasn't hurrying up the stairs. It was a swift walk. Very swift. The door opens right after she knocks on it and she's greeted by Rachel who has deep eye bags under eyes. "You look terrible,' she blurts out before she can stop herself. It's not untrue, per se, but Rachel is wearing shorts and a tank and she looks fantastic, but her face is drawn and... She looks terrible. A slight smile flickers across Rachel's face. She wasn't insulted because there wasn't the least bit of malice in Quinn's voice and she did know that she looked terrible. "I know." The brunette swings the door open the rest of the way and slumps back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Quinn sets her bag down on the floor but doesn't do anything else. "What's wrong?" Rachel sighs tiredly. "It's not so much wrong as just very frustrating and highly annoying. Boys are so
stupid! Ugh!" She flops over to stuff her head under her pillow. Quinn tries not to stare at the smooth curve of Rachel's back as her tank top rides up a little. "Uhh,' she swallows hard, 'I take it your date with Finn didn't go very well?" Rachel groans and turns back around. "It's not like we were going to do anything, you know?" Quinn can't help but grimace. Every time she and Finn had ever come close to doing anything and, well, Finn wasn't a master of control, was he? And the thought of him doing the same thing with Rachel... She can't stop the immature 'ew's' running through her head. "I mean, we watched a movie and then we had dinner and then... I should have been allowed an option, shouldn't I? Relationships work both ways, don't they?" Rachel sounds irritated now. "Did Finn try to do anything, Rachel?" Quinn asks quietly, the fingers of her unbroken arm curling up and forming a fist, holding back the rage that threatens to spill out of her. "No! I don't think Finn would ever do anything like that, but... Okay, look, what happened was that halfway through the date I went to the ladies and while I was there, I had an... epiphany. Let's leave it at
that. I realised that while Finn is a very nice boy, we are highly unsuited to each other and as such I decided to break things off before they got any more serious and we became even more involved in the relationship." "What?" Finn looked completely bewildered. Rachel cleared her throat and clearly but quietly repeated herself. "I said, I think that we shouldn't go out anymore. We're simply rather incompatible as a couple and if we keep deluding ourselves to that fact then this relationship will just drag on for an indefinite period of time while we angst over how we don't seem to fit together properly in both physical and mental terms. It's in our best interests than we end it where we are right now before it goes any further." Finn still looked confused. "You're breaking up with me?" "Well technically this is our first date where we are both free agents and we have yet to establish ourselves as a couple, so I cannot 'break up' with you, but in simplified terms then I suppose so, yes. I would like us to not go out together with romantic notions involved. This means that I would, however, love to stay friends with-" "You're breaking up with me?" Finn repeated slowly, disbelief flooding his voice. "After everything I've been
through, after you've wanted us to be together for so long, you'rebreaking upwith me?" Rachel bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Name one good quality of mine, Finn." Thrown, Finn blinked and doesn't respond for several seconds. "You're uh, pretty... You're pretty. And you're a good singer. And you're awesome." He grinned widely at her. The girl sighed. "I suppose I should thank you, but your compliments are rather untrue. My nose is too big and I am not a good singer, quite frankly, Finn, I am a fantastic singer. My point, however, is that you simply cannot name one good thing about me beside my apparently aesthetically pleasing features and my voice. I however would be able to tell you that while you have a heart of gold, you are incredibly oblivious and that-" "You talk a lot,' he pointed out, 'but I don't know if that's a good quality or not." Rachel slumped back into her seat. "I'm sorry, Finn, but it's not going to work out." Finn scowled. "You're not even trying! Why'd you even want me in the first place? Was it because I was with Quinn? Now that I'm not you, you what, you want to go after some other guy who has a girlfriend?"
She flinched. "That's not fair, Finn,' she mumbled. "I know that sometimes I want what I can't have,' an image of Quinn's laughing face flashes into her mind, 'but it's not fair to imply that I am some sort of a-" "Slut?" Finn snapped coldly. Rachel gaped. She'd never heard him be so crude before. She shook her head slowly, as though she'd misheard. "Excuse me? Did you really just call me a 'slut', Finn?" He looks a little surprised at himself and he has the grace to look uncomfortable, but he doesn't apologise either. "Maybe I did. Who cares? It's not like you have someone else on the sidelines. Or is that why you're breaking up with me? Are you in love with somebody else?" Rachel leaned as far away from Finn and his acidic words as she could in the small booth. "Finn, you need to calm down. This isn't you. And yes, it may be true that nobody else wants me, but it's not like you really want me either, is it? You can't even name one thing good about me. Face it, Finn. You just want someone by your side, solidifying your status as the quarterback who can date whomever you want to. But you need to learn to walk without anyone by your side, just like I've been doing for the past 16 years."
"Is that what this is about? Are you trying to get back at me for what they did to you? That's bullshit!' Finn hissed loudly. People were beginning to stare at them. "That wasn't what I said at all. All I meant to say was that I do not wish to pursue a romantic relationship with you because we're not suited to be with one another,' Rachel said firmly, but impatiently. "It's both ways, isn't it? I don't get to say anything? If you want me, you'll chase after me and now that you don't, you can just dump me? What the hell, Rachel? I thought you were better than that." "Finn,' Rachel sighed again. "Whatever, Rachel. I'm outta here." Finn slapped a few 10 dollar notes on the table, enough to cover for the meal, before enacting a storm-out out of the restaurant that could have rivalled Rachel's. The brunette's head thumped back against her seat. That went well, she thinks. Quinn leans against the doorjamb casually, trying to quell the burning hopefulness in her chest and focusing on her irritation at Finn. "He left you stranded? I know it's Lima but you're still kind of small and-"
Smiling wryly, Rachel interrupts Quinn. "Yes, he did. I suppose he forgot that I went there in his car, but at any rate, my dad was nearby buying milk so he just came by to pick me up when I called him. No harm done." Still mildly annoyed at the bumbling idiot, Quinn shakes her head again. "I can't believe he called you a slut. I didn't even know he knew that word." "I doubt he meant it anyway,' Rachel smiles lightly. Quinn folds her arms over her chest, or would, if one of her arms wasn't in a cast. She settles for wrapping one arm around herself. "Doesn't matter. He shouldn't have called you that." Rachel shrugs and rubs her eyes, blinking hard. "How was the sleepover?" "Fun,' Quinn shrugs, "You should've come." Rachel shrugs back at her. "So... are you okay?" Quinn prods. "Why do you look like you didn't get any sleep?" Rachel swallows. "I... I was thinking about the things he said. In some ways, he's right. I do want things I can't have, and sometimes I wonder whether I want them because I'll never have them and it's safer to want them because she's amazing but she'll also
never return my feelings and so I spent most of the night thinking about how Finn Hudson was actually right and- Shit." She clamps her hands over her mouth and blushes furiously. "Oh,' Quinn said non-committedly. Inside, her heart is thumping hard and her throat goes dry. She swallows. Don't get your hopes up, she scolds herself. She could be talking about any girl. Her heart sinks because, shit, she probably was talking about some other girl. There's no way Rachel could possibly feel for her that way after everything she'd done to her... "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,' Rachel says quietly. She prays that Quinn thinks it's someone else. She couldn't lose this... this friendship or whatever it is. Finn forgot to mention one thing. She's selfish, too. She's selfish and she wants Quinn and she wants this thing they have where they hug and they grab each other's hands and they smile at each other. She wants it all so much. "No, it's fine. We should just... practice. I um, I actually have a song prepared... I'd actually like to sing it for you and if you like it we could go from there,' Quinn feels the heat rise up to turn her ears red and she plucks a CD out of her bag, waving it with a weak smile on her face. It was going to be so awkward now that she knew Rachel liked someone else, but what could she do?
Rachel helps Quinn insert the CD into her (pink, embarrassingly Bedazzled) radio, their hands brushing against each other. Quinn turns red to the very tips of her ears, but Rachel doesn't notice. She wonders what duet Quinn had in mind for them to sing. She had several songs picked out, but she wasn't quite sure whether Quinn would agree to doing a Wicked song. Quinn forces her nerves away and presses the play button. Rachel's eyes widen in disbelief the moment she hears the easily recognisable tune. "What you need to sing is a song of lament," Kurt declares. "Seriously, gay boy? Did you just say 'lament'?" Santana scoffs. He gives her a haughty glare before clearing his throat and saying, "Yes, I said lament, Santana. And do you know why, Quinn?" This he directs at Quinn, who looked like she regretting agreeing to letting them help her. "Uh, no?" Kurt sighs theatrically. "Because, my dear baby gay, she's with someone else. So you need to sing something which tells her that you want her but you know you can't be with her because of that. Our dear
diva will be so overcome with emotion that she won't be able to help herself and demand that Finn break up with her so he can date me." He blinks. Quinn narrows her eyes at him. "Kurt..." "What? I'm kidding. Mostly. Once he's a free agent and doesn't have a girl on his arms, he'll be able to finally realise how adorably gay he actually is. I always have two parts to my plans," Kurt admits. "So are you doing this for me or for you?" Quinn asks pointedly. She tries not to roll her eyes at her two friends who are trying not to look like they want to get a room. Hint: it's not Tina and Mercedes. "I'm doing this for both of us, Quinn. I do hope it works out with you and Rachel, if only because you'll be able to keep her occupied and far away from my solos. And perhaps because I think you'd be good for each other. I think you could keep her grounded. And yes, maybe I think you could make each other happy. But you didn't hear it from me." Quinn smirks widely. "Aww, is widdle Kurtsie a softie inside? Is he? Aww." She mock-pinches his cheek and earns herself a glare. "At any rate, Finn is just a distant dream, a hunk of
man I would dearly love to have, but nonetheless, a dream. It's nice to dream sometimes, Quinn," Kurt sighs. Quinn pats him on the shoulder comfortingly, raising her Mountain Dew to him. Tina calls to them from across the room where she's sitting with Mercedes. Pointing at the computer screen, she says, "I think you should sing this one." Curiously, she walks over and sees, then hears the song Tina is talking about. Her smile falls off her face. "Yeah. Sounds perfect." "Don't worry, Quinn. Rachel Berry is Rachel Berry and you're Quinn Fabray. She would be nuts to say no to this." "So she sings this to her and she, what, falls into her arms?" Mercedes asks sceptically. "That's the idea, yes," Kurt agrees. Mercedes still looks unconvinced. Tina keeps scrolling. Santana and Brittany could care less, because Santana is trying not to stick her tongue down Brittany's throat and Brittany is trying not to tell them all to shut the fuck up and give them a damn room or beware the consequences.
Quinn wonders how she fits into all the insanity. For a long moment, Quinn wonders whether she was insane or brain damaged to have agreed with Kurt, Tina and Mercedes' plotting.. "My life is brilliant, my love is pure, I saw an angel,of that I'm sure*." Quinn stares hard at the foot of Rachel's bed, feeling herself blush deeper with every word. Rachel just gapes, a warm feeling beginning to spread through her fingers at Quinn's breathy voice. The blonde sings with so much feeling in her voice. She'd never really noticed it before, having never heard Quinn singing a solo. "I saw your face in a crowded place,and I don't know what to do,'cause I'll never be with you."Quinn chokes and stops singing when Rachel turns the music off. She wets her dry lips as the brunette seems to struggle for words. "Quinn…" "I'm… I'm sorry, Rachel. I should go." Quinn grabs her bag and has one foot out of Rachel's bedroom door before Rachel grabs her arm gently to prevent her from leaving. "I like you,' Quinn blurts, 'and I know you have feelings for some other girl and I hope you're very happy with her and I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you." She tries to tug her arm away but Rachel has this strange smile on her face.
"Did you mean what you sang?" she asks. Quinn nods, embarrassed. She had never put herself out there this way before, and the raw feeling in her heart makes her feel like throwing up. "What makes you think you'll never be with me?' Rachel smiles teasingly. She feels a very peculiar mix of emotions. No one had ever put themselves on the line to sing to her quite like that before, and she feels foolishly happy and very flattered. And delighted. And confused, because surely she was dreaming this scene? In fact, doesn't she have a small screenplay written out in her journal that seems eerily similar to this very scene? Except in her screenplay the beautiful damsel ends up with some stupid guy because the world hates her. She grimaces briefly on the inside. But no, because Quinn is looking at her hopefully and dropping her bag back onto the floor with a light thump. "I don't... Do you mean what I think you mean?" Biting her lower lip, Rachel takes Quinn's hands in her own. Carefully, she says, "If you mean to ask whether that girl I was talking about is you then yes, that is what I meant." Quinn is too surprised to really absorb the meaning of that, but it doesn't matter because she feels Rachel
rub her thumbs gently over her palm and her cast (which is a little strange but it's Rachel Broadway Berry and she's known for her theatrics) and the girl is stepping into her personal space and she doesn't mind very much at all. The taller girl leans down a little and then there's not much space between them and Rachel stops moving when her forehead touches Quinn's. "Are you sure?" she whispers against Quinn's lips. The blonde feels a shiver run down her spine again. She knows what Rachel is asking. Is she sure she wants to do this? Is she sure she's actually attracted to a girl and that girl is Rachel Berry? Is she sure she wants to do something that will label her and make some people turn against her? Quinn swallows. "Yeah. I've just… I've never done this before. Kiss another girl, I mean." "Mm-hmm." One of Rachel's hands comes up to press against the back of Quinn's head and the other wraps itself against her slim waist. And then Quinn is surprised at how soft the lips caressing her own are and her hands are tangled in Rachel's soft hair and oh god, everything is so damn soft and she wonders why she'd never tried this before. Rachel's foot fumbles with the door behind Quinn and then it's shut and Quinn is pressed back against the door gently, their lips not breaking apart. Quinn lets
Rachel take the lead, enjoying the warm feeling of being kissed. This was so very much preferable to insistent tongues and coarse hands, Puck's occasional prickly stubble and Finn's fumbling wet kisses. Hot damn, Rachel Berry is a fucking good kisser. Who knew her mouth could do so much more than sing? And then Rachel is kissing the corner of her mouth and she pants, drawing greedy breaths, unaware that they'd been kissing long enough for her to run out breath. Small teeth scrape against her jawbone and, trembling, she pulls Rachel against her. "Wait,' she breathes into the shorter girl's ear. The part of her that enjoyed watching people squirm cheered when a noticeable blush rises up her neck. Rachel pulls back, her eyes dark and her lips red. Quinn supposes that she looks the same way. She plays with the hem of Rachel's tank top as the girl loosely wraps her arms around her waist. "What, I mean, I don't know, like, I've never..." Quinn blushes again and hides her face against Rachel's neck. Rachel giggles and Quinn feels the vibrations against her nose. She smiles. "We're just kissing, Quinn. Relax." Quinn impulsively presses her lips against Rachel's neck and the brunette involuntarily lets out a soft moan. Quinn was just pressing soft, closedmouth kisses against her neck shyly but Rachel thought it was the best feeling in the world.
Again, but this time because of Rachel, they stop. "We don't really need to do anything, but... Despite you having never done anything like this before you're extremely talented with those lips and I don't think my legs are going to hold up much longer." Quinn smirks, her confidence coming back to her in a sudden rush of adrenaline. "Do I make you swoon?" she asks breathily against Rachel's neck. Rachel nods blankly, not sure what she's agreeing with because Quinn is staring down at her predatorily and she feels like she really might fall over. She wraps her arms around Quinn's neck for support. Quinn pushes her backwards step by step until the backs of Rachel's legs hit her bed. And then Rachel is on the bed and Quinn is lying on her side facing Rachel. She brushes the hair out of Rachel's face and just stares down at her. Rachel's eyes are dark but patient, and happy. Her lips look so damn kissable, so Quinn kisses them languidly. The angle is different but the feeling is still the same. It's amazing. Quinn whimpers when a wet tongue slips in between her lips. It's a lot more heated after that and somehow Rachel is supporting herself on top of Quinn, straddling her and any thoughts Quinn harboured about this being wrong are long gone because nothing wrong could
possible feel so, so right. And the weight on top of her, staring at her like she's the only thing in the world, giving her this look that tells her she's the one making them feel good, makes her fly. Rachel tastes like vanilla, and she knows that she's never going to be able to go back to chocolate. Then Rachel's hands are trailing goose bumps up Quinn's side and Quinn pulls back to shake her head. The words spill out of her in a blur. "I can't, I'm not..." Rachel silences her with a soft kiss and then rolls off her to lie on her side. There's a euphoric smile plastered on her face and, grinning widely, she says, "Okay. It's okay. That was... amazing. Oh my god. Oh my god.I just made out with Quinn Fabray." Said girl chuckles lowly and reaches for Rachel's hand. She holds it between hers and, a similar grin on her face, says, "Yeah, yeah you did. I feel so unlike myself right now." "It's understandable. You've just engaged in a heated make out session with me against what you've been taught most of your life and it's a completely new experience for you. I can understand completely. Also, I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Any time you tell me to stop I'll stop, okay?" Rachel asks shyly, worrying her bottom lip between her straight teeth.
"Okay,' Quinn smiles. "Unless you wish to continue, I suggest we get some water and start practicing for our duet. As much as I have discovered I adore your lips, I refuse to be unprepared for our performance." Rachel starts to move off the bed but Quinn slips an arm around her waist and tugs her back down to fall onto the bed in a huff. Smiling, she surprises herself by giving Rachel a long, deep kiss that leaves them both breathless. Stunned and blinking, Rachel just gapes when Quinn pulls away. "So, practice?" She grins when Rachel just shakes her head slowly, a conflicted expression on her face. She could really get used to this kissing girls thing. "Dude." "Yeah?" "What the hell are we going to sing for that stupid duet?" Puck grumbles as he blows a zombie's head off on the television. Finn shrugs and swears when his character gets his head bitten off and he goes down. "Crap! Damnit! Argh, I dunno." He looks around his room, as though the music to a suitable song will fall down onto his desk through the roof. Puck blasts another couple of
zombies dead before he too is overwhelmed by the masses. "Hey is that your old Gameboy?" Puck suddenly asks, leaning over the bed and grabbing a yellow Nintendo Gameboy Advance on top of Finn's pillow. "Yeah I found it a couple days ago. Pokémon Blue is the only game that still works though. All my other cartridges are lost or something." "Dude!" Puck punches Finn in the shoulder hard and Finn scowls. "What?" he asks, punching Puck back. "I know what we're gonna sing." "What do you want to sing?" Tina asks uncomfortably. Matt shrugs. Tina sighs. "How about this one?" Artie presses play on his iTunes. "I am an arms dealer, fitting you with weapons in the form of**-" "Oh hell to the nah! We are not singing that." Mercedes crosses her arms and stares down at the wheelchair-bound boy, one eyebrow raised
threateningly. "Fine,' Artie shrugs and shuts his laptop. "What do you want to sing, then?" "Relax, I've got the perfect song." Artie tries not to look afraid. "So... I kind of have the perfect song in mind for us to sing,' Brittany admits shyly as Santana peppers her bare back with kisses. Santana only hums in response. "San..." Brittany reaches behind her to pull Santana off and earns herself a groan of complaint. "We need to practice this,' she says firmly. She blushes when Santana just stares at her with a sultry expression before her dark eyes travel all along her body. "C'mon, later. After we practice." Sighing, Santana says, "Fine. Here,' she adds, handing Brittany her clothes back. With a small victory smile, Brittany begins to put her clothes on, feeling Santana's eyes continue to rove across her body as she does. She smirks. "I was thinking about this song." She selects a CD and slides it into her CD player before skipping to the third song.
Santana's eyes widen as Brittany starts singing along. "Brit,' she calls softly. Brittany looks crestfallen. "I'm sorry, I know, you don't really want to-" "Brit,' Santana says more insistently, getting up and putting a gentle finger on Brittany's lips, "It's perfect." "This is a really weird song to sing," Mike comments as he spins around in Kurt's chair. "I know for a fact that there will be plenty of drama on that day, so I thought we could sing something a little lighter. And I was hoping this song would help some other people as well,' Kurt adds, trying not to snicker. "Okay. But it's all in good fun, right? I mean, because I'm really not..." Mike trails off uncomfortably. Kurt rolls his eyes. "No, you're not. Shame,' he sighs dramatically. "Anyway, let's try this one more time." "Prior to us kissing, I had several songs prepared. Now I'm not quite sure. I think... I think we need to talk, Quinn." The blonde girl lies back against the pillows as the short brunette paces the room, stopping every few seconds to shuffle through the pile of music in her arms. "Okay,' she says simply.
"I mean, this all depends on what we are and whether we are going to come out to anyone at all. I fully understand, if I don't quite like, the idea of not telling anyone that we're... together? Are we together?" Rachel asks hopefully. She doesn't want to push and she's afraid Quinn will realise who she's actually with and run away but she's Rachel Berry and she needs confirmation. She needs someone to tell her that she's worth more than someone's reputation in school. She doesn't know if Quinn is that someone. "Hey, c'mere." Quinn gestures for Rachel to sit down next to her. The diva slumps down onto the bed and looks up at Quinn pleadingly. It hits Quinn that while Rachel acts like nothing affects her, a lot of things do and she just hides it all the time. She brushes Rachel's hair out her face, running her thumb over Rachel's closed eyelids, her cheekbones, her lips, and thinks about what she's supposed to say. Rachel relaxes into her touch and sighs softly. "Rachel, I can't promise you that I won't be afraid of people finding out about us. People, I'm not even talking about Lima, I'm talking about people in general, they're not... accepting. My father, my mother... I can't promise that I won't try to run away instead of talk to you, that I'll stop being a bitch to people I don't like. I strike out when I'm upset and I know it's terrible but that's me and what I do know is
that I really do like you I think... I think I'd like to... to date you." Embarrassed, Quinn shyly turns away. Rachel looks at Quinn thoughtfully before pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Okay,' she says easily, 'okay." "Okay? Is that it?" Rachel grins. "Yes, that's it." "I pour my ice cold, empty heart out to you and all you can say is 'okay'? Really, Berry?" Rachel pouts. "Is there really any need to avoid calling me by my first name, Quinn? You are, after all, my girlfriend now, yes?" Quinn blinks. "Uh, girlfriend?" "No?" Rachel looks confused. "Well, yes, but, I mean, I..." Rachel furrows her eyebrows. "No?" she asks again. "If that's not what you-" "I mean yes, yes. Girlfriend,' Quinn rolls the unfamiliar words around her mouth. "Hmm." "Quinn Fabray, will you be my girlfriend?" Rachel gives Quinn a lopsided grin.
Quinn pretends to ignore her and makes a grab for the music sheets. There was a title she'd noticed early... Yes. She pulls it out and hands it over to Rachel, who looks slightly put-off. Then the brunette looks down at the music sheet and there's her answer. "You, Quinn, are a complete dork." But the smile on her face doesn't go anywhere else except stay on her face. "We'll sing this, okay? For the Glee duet. But... I'd prefer if we don't tell the entire school just yet. Please? It's just... a lot." "It's perfectly understandable," Rachel nods. "I am inclined to agree with you so, yes, let's not change our Facebook statuses just yet?" "And I'm the dork here?" After they practice the song a few times, they just stand there for a bit. It so happens that at that moment, Hiram knocks on the half-open door and asks them what they want for lunch. Quinn hurriedly twirls away from between Rachel's arms where she was standing, as though it's part of the choreography. She blushes again. God, she was blushing so much lately. Her cheeks were going to become permanently inflamed.
"Leroy's actually got a few friends coming over from England that he's taking out for lunch and I was thinking about going out with him. But if you want I could cook something for you girls first or I could call takeout,' Hiram offers. Rachel turns to Quinn, who shrugs. "Anything's fine." "We might go out for lunch later, daddy. It's okay. Have fun!" she adds enthusiastically. "I'll leave some money on the kitchen table under the lemon container, okay? Also, from now onwards, open door policy, Rachel, you got that?" Hiram adds nonchalantly. Quinn splutters hard, desperately trying for an excuse but Rachel just glares at her father. "Daddy, I would like to inform you that we're both old enough for-" "Okay, okay! I was joking! But please, don't do anything while we're around. We might be openminded, Rachel, but the thought of it makes me want to rip out a portion of our wall. Ugh. And if you need any information I could-" "Thank you very much, daddy, but I think I could find any information I need by myself," Rachel cuts in hastily.
"Alright then. Oh, and I think Quinn's about to choke to death," he chuckles before walking away. True enough, Quinn face is bright red and looks like she's about to faint to get away from all the awkwardness she was feeling. "Calm down, Quinn. My parents like you, and oddly enough they've never really liked Finn... But anyway, the point is, they clearly don't mind." "I'm not even going to ask how he figured it out when I barely... Whatever. What about your dad?" "He probably won't be quite as happy, but he'll be fine with it. Don't worry so much, Quinn." "Hey, did he say lemon container?" "Yes. It was a gag gift from one of dad's relatives. It's a giant lemon in the shape of a uh, lemon. You can put napkins in rows in it." Rachel sticks her tongue out at Quinn, who shakes her head. "You're all crazy." Quinn stays at Rachel's place for the rest of the day. They alternate between kissing, watching movies, practising the song a few more times, and accusing each other of eating the last piece of pizza.
They end up sprawled on top of the couch in front of the television where Lindsay Lohan is still a kid and Regina George was getting hit by a bus. Rachel can quote the entire movie word for word, whereas Quinn has watched it only once before. Still, the blonde muses, playing with Rachel's hair while she narrates the entire script was pretty nice. Rachel's back is warm against her front, and she has her casted arm wrapped around her middle. It's surprisingly comfortable. It's different, because she's never before been holding someone else before. With all the boys she has ever been with, she'd always been the one being held, and there was always a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that it didn't quite seem right but she'd pushed it away. But this, her holding Rachel, Rachel snuggled into her side as though Quinn is protecting her from Regina whatshername, this is nice. This is... it feels good. It feels... Perfect. The word hits her like a punch in the gut. 'Perfect'. Really? She'd been together with Rachel less than a day and already her brain was giving her words like 'perfect'? She glances down at the girl she's holding and frowns.
Soft brown locks; thick, half-closed lashes; warm brown eyes; straight, high nose that was actually kind of cute and suited her face, now that Quinn actually looks at it instead of just calling her RuPaul the largenosed Snowbear on impulse; and her lips. Her lips. Her talented, blasphemy-inducing lips. Quinn starts playing with Rachel's fingers absentmindedly. Her fingers were slim and she has small hands, and their hands fit together in a way that Quinn's has never quite fit with anyone else's before. She chews on her lower lip thoughtfully, mulling these things over. Perfect, huh? Well, that remained to be seen. But still, so far, pretty damn nice. Phoebe doesn't say anything when Quinn gets into the car, even though she's dying to. She couldn't help but notice her baby cousin kissing Rachel Berry at her doorstep now, could she? But better to watch Quinn squirm for a while waiting for her reaction. No one could really tell, but Phoebe Fabray-Grey really liked to mess with other people's heads. Quinn turns the air conditioning up and switches to a different radio station. Then she cracks. "For fuck's sake, ask me whatever you want to ask me already. I know you want to."
Phoebe smirks happily before taking a left turn. "What makes you think I have anything to ask, hmm?" "Well unless you're blind, my dearest cousin, you just saw me kissing Rachel Berry. On the lips," Quinn adds pointedly. She's slightly surprised that the words come out with such ease. "So say what you want to say, tease me if you want to and I know you're dying to, you evil biatche. Get it over with." She pretends to close her eyes and brace for impact. The older blonde just takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze Quinn's shoulder. "Don't hurt her, Quinn. You probably will, because you're kind of a bitch, but you're related to me and that should count for something yeah? Have some fun. You only live once." Quinn cracks open one eyelid. Bewildered, she says, "Is that it?" Phoebe shrugs. "Well there's the part where I thought about giving you tips on how to have sex, but I figured you wouldn't appreciate that part very much." Quinn shudders. "No, I wouldn't, thanks." "Well there you go. But seriously, don't break her heart. It'll come back to me somehow and I wouldn't want my rep tarnished thanks to my repressed cousin, yeh?"
The not-so-repressed-anymore cousin just rolls her eyes and turns the volume of the radio up. Amanda's reaction is a little less unenthusiastic. Quinn can barely breathe after her hug. Quinn was planning on seeing Rachel again on Sunday, but then her mother calls her at 7.30a.m. in the morning, which would've woken her up if she wasn't already awake and staring at her phone willing it to ring. She hadn't been hoping for her mother to make it ring though. "Mom?" "Hello, Quinn. How are you?" Quinn bites back all her words in favour of a quick breath. She didn't want to snap at her mother that she was better than she'd ever been since her parents had started spending more time with vodka and whiskey than their own children, nor did she want to ecstatically blurt out that she was dating Rachel Berry and she thought she might've been maybe kind of falling in love even though love really was just chemical reactions in your brain and she knows that but still. "I'm okay,' she says instead. 'You?"
"I've... I've been trying to stop drinking, actually." "Really?' Quinn tries not to sound hopeful, 'how's that going? And shouldn't you be in church right around now?" "Well, your father did ask me to go to church but then he ended up back in front of the toilet bowl throwing up before he could get past the front door. He's passed out on the bed right now. He's been drinking more and more since you le- Since he- Since we practically kicked you out," Judy corrects herself guiltily. Quinn pretends not to care, pretends that the image of her father heaving into a toilet bowl, sweat dripping down his face, doesn't make her heart hurt, doesn't make her want to punch a wall and then fix the world. Instead, she says again, "And how's that not drinking going for you, mom?" "It's difficult,' Judy admits, 'but I'm trying. I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? Sober?" "You're sober, huh?" Quinn retorts before she can stop herself. Judy sighs. She has a glass next to her hand, but the only thing inside it is water. She's trying, she really is. She hasn't touched a drop of alcohol for three whole days. It's progress, but when her own daughter is
doubting her and her husband is passed out on their wedding bed, it's hard and it makes her want to fill up the tub with Grey Goose and lie in it. The notion sounds utterly ridiculous even in her head. "Yes, Quinn, I'm sober. I've been sober for three days and I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm trying but it's hard. I'm your mother and I want to be able to take care of your like I should have done all these years but that's hard too but I'm trying. I'm trying and I'm trying and your father is passed out and I'm praying he doesn't choke to death on his own vomit and I'm just... I'm trying, okay, Quinnie?" Judy's voice cracks and she swallows her sob. There's silence on the other end. There are unshed tears in Quinn's eyes and she's just trying not to burst into gigantic sobs because she's cried more in the past week than she has for the past 5 years combined and her tear ducts probably needed a break. "I'm sorry I'm not the perfect mom, Quinn," Judy says quietly. She knows she has never been and will likely never be, but the thought that she's failed in this situation makes her want to drown her sorrows in a bottle of vodka. It's not helping her resistance at all. Quinn sniffles and blows her nose. "I'm not. Nobody's perfect, mom." She's just recently begun to realise this herself. She had tried so hard to be the perfect
student, the most popular and well, it had all blown up in her face, hadn't it? "I love you," she says sincerely. Mrs. Fabray's eyes water and she rubs at them hastily. If her daughter wasn't going to cry then she sure as hell wasn't going to break down. "I love you too, Quinnie, I really do. Do... do you want to go have lunch later this afternoon?" So what if Russell Fabray wasn't going to approve of this when he found out? He wasn't going to kick her out of the house. Just like everything else he couldn't tolerate or get rid of, he would just ignore. Being ignored by her bigoted alcoholic husband didn't seem like a very big price to pay in return for her daughter talking to her. "I, uh, okay, sure," she agrees before remembering that Rachel had suggested they go out for lunch. Crap. "Where?" "You remember that little Spanish place we used to go to all the time?" the older Fabray smiles a little at the memory of a younger Quinn Fabray bouncing up and down in her seat impatiently while waiting for her tortilla to arrive. Quinn grimaces slightly, because all she remembers is her father telling her firmly to stop bouncing up and down or he'd take her home for a tuna sandwich instead. "I remember." She still doesn't like tuna.
It's a little strange making arrangements with her own daughter like that, but she clears her throat and says, "Is noon alright?" "Yeah, that's fine." Quinn ended up cancelling with Rachel, who sounded a little bit disappointed but at the same time delighted that her relationship with her mother was improving. Quinn again agreed to Rachel picking her up on Monday to go to school. When Rachel hangs up with a quick 'Bye babe Have fun!', Quinn finds herself strangely giddy. It absolutely wasn't because Rachel had just called her 'babe'. Not at all. She knows Rachel wants to go with her, but she can't do it. She can't take Rachel with her because she knows that her mother will sense something and she's not ready to lose this fragile maybe-relationship with her mother. Not again. The restaurant was only a few blocks away from the apartment, so Quinn opts to walk. She gets there a little before noon and asks for a booth. The decor was almost exactly the same, though the giant sombrero hanging upside down from the ceiling seemed to overdo it a little bit. There were a few kids running around one of the tables with paper sombreros on
their heads and crayons in their hands. Quinn gazes at them, her hand unconsciously splaying across her flat stomach. Lost in thought, she doesn't notice her mother until the older woman slowly slides into the seat opposite her. "Quinn," Judy greets. Quinn jumps a little, but then a sombre smile graces her features. "Mom." Judy smiles back but before she can say anything, the waitress appears next to the table with two menus in her hand and she starts rattling off the list of specials they had that day. Quinn stares firmly at the menu while the waitress talks. She quietly orders the same thing she'd had 10 years ago. Judy orders a salad, to which the waitress raises her eyebrows, but takes down the orders and leaves anyway. Judy's face seems a little more lined than the last time Quinn had seen her, but it didn't seem possible. She'd only been gone what, a week? She sips at her water and wonders what on earth they're supposed to talk about. "How's... school?" Quinn shrugs. "Okay. Mr. Schuester has us singing ballads for next Tuesday. A duet."
"Oh. Who are you paired with?" Judy sounds genuinely curious, but Quinn has a bad feeling about the direction the conversation is taking. "Uh, Rachel. Rachel Berry." "I see. What are you girls singing?" Judy suddenly realises that she has nothing to do with her hands and starts to fiddle with her napkin, folding it and unfolding it over and over again. Quinn swallows and starts tapping out a rhythm on the table with her index finger nervously. She tells her mother, trying not to blush. Judy's hands still and she slowly puts down the napkin. She stares at a point next to her daughter's head and nods slowly. "I see," she says slowly. It goes on for another minute before she stops nodding. She shakes her head in a short, sharp move and then nods again, just once. The younger Fabray feels slightly nauseous and she doesn't think it's because of the bun in her oven. She swallows the bile that seems to be rising in her throat and takes another sip of water. She stares resolutely at her glass. Her mother clears her throat and says, "Have you thought about which hospital you want to have your baby in?"
No way. No way her mother was just going to ignore this. But apparently, yes, she was, because she's continuing with "and of course, it's your choice, but I want you to know that I have enough put away to cover all your medical expenses. If Russell happens to be in a good mood I might ask him but I don't-" "I don't want anything from him,' Quinn cuts in sharply, 'and... Are you just going to ignore what I said?" Judy Fabray hesitates and searches for the right way. Carefully, she says, "Okay then, I won't ask for anything from your father." "Mom." Said woman sighs. "Alright, alright. Let me tell you a story, Quinn." Quinn leans back in her seat to gaze at her mother coolly. If she tries to tell her about Adam and Eve... "There was once a girl about your age, maybe a year older. Let's say... 17. A 17 year old girl with blonde hair and blue eyes and a head full of lies. She went to an all-girls Catholic school. Let's say she was a girl guide." Judy stops when the food arrives. She nods at the waitress as Quinn pokes at her food.
"Let's say when she was 17, she had a best friend. She thought she loved her friend very much, but as a friend. Or so she thought. Do you know what I mean?" Judy catches Quinn's gaze and Quinn swallows. She nods. "And then one week, they went for a camp with the other girl guides. The two of them were paired up and they shared a tent..." For a few minutes, there's silence except for the clink of cutlery. "I had my heart broken,' Judy admits quietly, 'and maybe that's why I was so eager to believe how wrong it was. I don't know. All I know is that if she makes you happy, then go, have fun. But you're my daughter and I don't want to you get hurt because I love you. Do you understand?" Quinn nods and blinks back tears. "That's really quite lovely, Quinn." "But sad,' Quinn counters, 'I mean, just imagine if I'd been born and I had two moms? I would be different. I wouldn't be who I am now. I'd probably be a better person." "I like who you are now,' Rachel argues, her shoulder holding the phone against her head as she flipped through the files looking for the PFLAG brochure she knew she had, 'Plus, if you had had two mothers and I had two fathers, we probably would have inevitably have bonded as friends and we would never have
what we have now." "That doesn't sound that bad. At least we could help each other clean the slushies off,' Quinn jokes. "True, but then as your platonic friend, I wouldn't have been able to use my tongue to clean you off." "Rachel!" Quinn chokes and laughs, pretending not to blush as she buries her head in her pillow. She certainly doesn't have imagery in her mind. "I'm simply being honest, Quinn. At any rate, everything you went through and everything I went through shaped us into who we are now, enabling us to get together. There is simply no point in thinking about 'what ifs'." "I know. Still, it's interesting. She never told me before, and well, I can see why." Quinn shakes her head. Her mother, her straight Christian recoveringalcoholic mother, had once fallen in with a girl. It boggled the mind. "So when can I meet her?" "What?" "Your mother, Quinn, when are you going to introduce me? Parents love me! It's not something they can really help though, because I am rather lovab- Ah! I've
found it!" Rachel raises the brochure up to peer at it, grinning widely. "You've found what? And no, I'm not introducing you to my mother. At least, not yet. I think it's a little bit soon." "Nonsense. You've met both of my dads; meeting one of your parents will be a piece of cake. And what I've found, babe, is the PFLAG brochure I'm going to give to make copies of to distribute to the glee club and your mother when I see her." Rachel quickly calculates in her mind how many copies she needs and whether she can get away with using the Cheerios copy machine. She knows Sue Sylvester's schedule pretty well by now, and with a few diversions it should be no problem. On the other hand, did she need to make copies for Brittany and Santana? Were they friends of lesbians or just... lesbians? She frowns. "You, you what?' Quinn splutters, 'What in the world is a... PFLAG? And why do you want to give one of those brochures to my mom? Oh god, Rachel, it better not be about how to have sex, because ew, but I think my mom's already covered that part." She shudders and blocks her mind out to the images. "The PFLAG, for you information, stands for Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It is a national non-profit organization with over 200,000
members and supporters and over 500 affiliates in the United States. This vast grassroots network is cultivated, resourced and serviced by the PFLAG National Office, located in Washington, D.C., the national Board of Directors and 13 Regional Directors. PFLAG promotes the health and well-being of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender persons, their families and friends through: support, to cope with an adverse society; education, to enlighten an ill-informed public; and advocacy, to end discrimination and to secure equal civil rights. Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays provides opportunity for dialogue about sexual orientation and gender identity, and acts to create a society that is healthy and respectful of human diversity.***" Rachel heaves a breath. "Okay, okay stop!' Quinn hurriedly cuts in before Rachel could get any further, 'I get it, I get it! But why on earth would you just happen to have that brochure with you?" "It's always good to be prepared, Quinn. I'm like a boy scout, except I'm a girl and I hate bugs and camping scares me." "Right…" It is a little weird to see Rachel hurriedly hop out of her car to open the door for Quinn, but oh, how it makes her beam like a love-struck fool.
Like a love-struck fool. She's not actually... struck by love... And when Rachel stands on her tiptoes to kiss Quinn on the cheek, what can she do but blush? Living in a romantic movie was not as appealing as it sounded. For one thing, Quinn knows her cheeks will soon fall off because they are not built to withstand so much blood rushing to them so often. And of course, Quinn only lets Rachel carry her books for her because the dramatic diva looked like she would cry if Quinn refused. Plus, her broken arm itched and you can't scratch an arm when the other arm is full of books. And yeah, okay, the smug look on Rachel's face makes her want to kiss it off and maybe that's Rachel's intention but the hallway is full of people who already look curious but look! The choir room is empty. Quinn thinks it's not so bad, this having a semi-secret girlfriend thing. She can't really think, because Rachel kind of has her pressed up against the closed door (again!) and her tongue is absolute magic against her own, but she could really get used to this. And then the bell rings and they realise that on Mondays, they only have one class together. One. Quinn ends up staring at the clock for much of her first class before she snaps herself out of it and
concentrates on what the teacher is saying. But then the bell rings and she thinks she just spotted a short brunette outside her classroom which is weird because Rachel's class was at the opposite end of the school. Still, when Rachel insists on taking her two books away from her despite her protests, she can't help but smile again. She flashes a sly wink at Rachel before grabbing her books and heading to her usual seat in History casually, like she didn't just very purposefully run her fingers down Rachel's arm while taking her books. Her fingers certainly didn't dance across Rachel's own and her breath definitely hadn't been blowing against the back of Rachel's neck. Like her guardian angels, or more accurately, the personification of the metaphorical angel and the devil on her shoulders, Santana and Brittany appear almost immediately to drop into the seats on either side of her. Rachel looks a little flustered and a little awkward standing at the front of the class with her mouth slightly agape, but after a few seconds she hurries to her own seat, deliberately ignoring Quinn. "Fucking hell, Fabray, the two of you have boned already? I don't usually say this, but I'm impressed." Quinn's confident exterior falters and she slumps
down into her seat. "Shut up, Santana. It's been two days. Not all of us fall into someone else's bed within hours of meeting them." "Don't think I won't kick your ass just because it got itself pregnant, bitch." "Oh fuck you, Santana," Quinn sneers back. "Shut up, both of you. This has gotten a lot more boring and far less amusing to watch after 16 fucking years. Jesus." The two of them automatically mumble apologies to Brittany, who shakes her head. "Like a bunch of starving dogs, the two of you. Stop going for each other's throats before I throw the both of you in a room and lock you there for a week." Quinn and Santana grimace, no doubt remembering the long week while they were 10 where Brittany did just that. Sleepovers were conducted at either Quinn or Santana's place since then. Brittany Susan Pierce was not to be trusted when she had the keys to a room. Stupid blue eyed innocent looking blonde that no one would ever suspect of being an evil mastermind when she wanted to be. "So,' Brittany continues cheerfully, 'what happened on Saturday?"
"We uh, made out,' Quinn blushes, 'and, talked and stuff. I mean, I want you guys to know before anyone else we're kind of, I think, dating. But we're not going to tell the school or whatever. Just glee club. But I wanted you guys to know first." "That's hot," Brittany comments before getting up wrap herself around Quinn in a tight hug. "I'm proud of you," she says seriously, making Quinn chuckle. "Thanks, Brit." Santana holds her fist out for a fist bump, the expression on her face grave. Quinn furrows her eyebrows in confusion and amusement, because really? But she bumps her fist back against Santana's, and the other girl nods. "Don't fuck it up" is her only advice. It's surprisingly hard for Rachel to keep her hands to herself in school, but seeing Finn lurking around corners helps. It's slightly annoying, because he looks kind of bad and like he wants to apologise, but she changes seats in Biology anyway because dealing with Finn Hudson was not high on her wish list of Things To Do Before I Hit 30 And People Start Telling Me I'm Too Old To Do These Things. It just leads to her fleeing her classes after every class in a hurry to get to Quinn's classroom. Finn seems to be pretty much avoiding Quinn so she was pretty safe while with the blonde. That was the only
reason. She did not memorise Quinn's entire schedule while carrying her books for the sole purpose of being able to help Quinn carry her books everywhere. Not at all. Not even close. Except she kind of did and she's kind of whipped except Quinn just seems adorably confused and loving it. Rachel Berry is not whipped without ever having actually been whipped. She's not. But look, Quinn wants some water and there is a ridiculously long line at the water fountain and Rachel knows she has some water in her locker. After Rachel drops her back at the apartment to go for her dance class, Quinn spends most of her day doing homework. Or, well, she spends the better part of her day getting Rachel's face out of her face before adding a few more sentences to her essay. Rinse and repeat. She almost loses a few fingers to the dishwasher when Phoebe jokes about her acting like a love-struck young fool. The two of them end up on the couch, Phoebe trying to wipe the soap suds off her head onto Quinn's face. Amanda sighs and absentmindedly wipes the suds off... only to wipe them down the front of Phoebe's shirt, which makes the blonde woman shriek.
It distracts Quinn, anyway, even if it does make her laugh until tears are streaming out of her eyes when Phoebe starts chasing Amanda around the small apartment. *You're Beautiful – James Blunt ** This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race – Fall Out Boy ***I stole/borrowed all this from the actual PFLAG website. Yes, they are real and not made up in the least. I realise it ended a little awkwardly, but review and tell me what you thought anyway? Note: It wasn't supposed to turn out so short or sudden, but this is the last chapter. Chapter title is Prozzak's song. "Today's the day," Rachel reminds Quinn before shutting the car door and getting into the driver's seat as though afraid Quinn would forget something that had kept her up all night. Quinn just nods. "Yeah." "Are you nervous? I have plenty of songs we could sing if you change your mind and decide that you don't want us to sing this song. No pressure on you, of course. It's perfectly fine if you don't want to come ou-"
Quinn entwines her hand with Rachel's free hand and cuts her off gently, "I'm nervous, but it's okay. I don't want to lie anymore. I don't want to have to pretend to hate you or dislike you. I like you a lot, and to be frank, my social standing is already fucked. I could care less if the entire school knew if I knew they wouldn't do anything to you. But I can't protect you against bullying and I can't protect you against homophobic asses. So I'd like for only the glee club to know, because half of them already know and I don't think the other half would care very much." Rachel flashes Quinn a brilliant smile before abruptly grimacing. "Except Finn." "And Puck," Quinn adds morosely. "What will we do, though, if they quit?" Rachel says quietly, glancing at Quinn. The blonde shrugs. "If it comes to that, we'll think of something. Don't worry about it." And then school is over and then they're sitting in the choir room next to each other and all Quinn wants to do is grab Rachel's hand except she can't and she feels like punching Matt in the face, which is mean, because all he's doing is sitting there. Then Rachel sneakily takes her hand to hold anyway
and then you can't tell whose fingers belong to whom but it doesn't matter because their hands are between the chairs and no one can tell anyway. The brunette gives Quinn a shy smile. Finn walks in and looks like he's about to go sit on Rachel's other side, but then Brittany is dropping into the seat, Santana's legs instantly across her lap, and Finn sighs, taking a seat next to Puck instead. The rest of the members file in fairly quickly after that. Brad the pianist is already sitting there and most of the members are just sitting with their duets partner looking bored. The minutes tick by, during which Rachel informs the club that being punctual is a virtue and that those who are not punctual will one day miss their chance at success. Quinn stifles a grin because the brunette was very clearly talking about Mr. Schuester who is, as often as not, late. She guesses that he's either chatting up Ms. Pillsbury again, or he is chatting up Ms. Pillsbury. Most of the club ignore her as usual, but Quinn decides to have some fun. "What if you miss your chance because you're early?" Rachel shakes her head. "Quinn, if you're already early then you're not late and if you're early then you're already where you want or need to be, which means you won't miss whatever you're looking for."
Nodding like she understands what Rachel is saying, Quinn smirks. "And what if, for example, you accidentally spill coffee on your soulmate while rushing into the office because you were late? If you'd been early you wouldn't have been rushing and you wouldn't have spilled the drink and then you wouldn't have met that person." Rachel rolls her eyes even better than Quinn does. "Quinn, these hypothetical situations make no sense at all. If they were truly your soulmate then you would hardly miss out on them just by being punctual. Also, I'm talking about success. Your future employer is hardly going to employ you if you're late for your job interview, is he?" "Well maybe the person you see when you're late turns out to be someone looking for someone like you for a different, better job." "That doesn't make any sense!" Rachel splutters. "Now you're just making up unrealistic situations to confuse me and possibly annoy me." "Am I succeeding? On time?" Quinn teases. Huffing, Rachel lets go of Quinn's hand and crosses her arms. "Whatever." "Get a room," Santana mutters under her breath, just
loud enough for Brittany, Quinn and Rachel to hear. Artie looks a little weirded out, but Tina nudges him and asks him what he's singing and she raises and eyebrow when he tells her. "You're singing what?" she asks again in confusion. Before he can answer, Mr. Schuester (finally!) walks in, a depressed look on his face. He looks kind of... broken, Quinn thinks. He looks like... he looks like her, the way she looked when she thought that her world was over. When the only thing her world consisted of was popularity, her boyfriend and her popularity. Before she'd discovered a new world, where she had friends not just people who feared her, where she had a mother who cared, where she had Rachel Berry. "Mr. Schuester..." she starts before Rachel can lecture him on punctuality and its importance in life. The teacher gulps in a breath before muttering, "Terri left me." The kids glance at each other nervously, not sure what they're supposed to do or say. "Are you okay, Mr. Schue?" Finn asks nervously. He shrugs and sighs again. "She admitted she wasn't pregnant and that she lied to me. Then she went to her sister's for the night."
Santana fights the urge to tell him that really, he does not need to unload on them like that and he's probably better off without that scary, scheming bitch, but then Brittany wraps her index finger and thumb around her ankle and gives her a warning glare. The man looked depressed enough; she hardly needed to add to his misery. She rolls her eyes at her blonde counterpart, but swallows her comment. Mr. Schuester clears his throat and claps his hands together once. "Anyway, it's not anything you guys should worry about. So, who would like to sing first? You're supposed to sing a ballad in twos, right?" Shockingly enough, the first person to raise their hand is not Rachel, but Brittany. Everyone looks a little confused, but Santana pulls her legs back to herself and gets to her feet and Mr. Schuester is gesturing for them to take the floor so they just shrug and settle back down. Quinn raises a mocking eyebrow at Santana, who scowls in her direction. The eyebrow said 'whipped', and the scowl said 'shut up, bitch'. Quinn grins and casually puts her arm along the top of Rachel's chair. The brunette leans back and rests against Quinn's arm, a small smile gracing her features. "What song are you guys singing?" There's a cocky smile on Santana's face, but
underneath the cockiness she's nervous. She cracks her knuckles, a move that Quinn knows just means she's nervous. "You'll see." Brittany stands next to the piano and Santana sits on a chair several feet away. Brittany nods and the music starts. "*Do you hear me? I'm talkin' to you. Across the water, across the deep blue ocean under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying." Santana smiles uncharacteristically shyly as the glee clubbers let out a few whoops upon recognizing the song, but she chimes in. "Girl I hear you, in my dreams, I feel your whisper across the sea, I keep you with my in my heart, you make it easier when life gets hard." Brittany pulls Santana up to twirl her around slowly for the chorus. "I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again." Santana flashes a sly grin at the club as she sings the line 'They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this." Puck waggles his eyebrows at the Latino when she dances past him, and she spares him a sneer before Brittany spins her away again. "You'll hear the music fill the air,' Brittany sings at Santana, who has leapt up the steps next to Quinn in an unrehearsed move, confusing the blonde. Quinn
deftly slips Santana a rose, as per her mysterious arrangement, and the dark-haired Cheerio does just what her line commands her to do. 'I'll put a flower in your hair,' prompting the glee kids to burst into applause and even giggles when Santana falls dramatically backwards into Brittany's arms when she sings, 'You hold me right here right now.' And then they finish the song to fierce applause and more than a few 'about time's directed mostly at Santana. There's a happy flush on Brittany's face and Santana is strangely sweet about it all, not making any jibes or sarcastic retorts. Will Schuester claps slowly, his worries temporarily forgotten. There is a wistful smile on his face as he says, "That was great, girls. Congratulations. Even though it wasn't exactly a ballad... Who's next? Finn?" he interrupts Finn, who is nudging Puck and telling him that he probably turned Brittany and Santana gay. Confused, Finn snaps around, and then at a punch on the shoulder from Puck, he shrugs. "Sure, yeah, okay." Most of the members have to clamp their hands over their mouths to not burst into ridiculously loud laughter from the very first second the song begins. "**I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was. To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause," Finn sings seriously.
Puck, grinning like a nerd, in Santana's opinion, dives into the next line with relish. "I will travel across the land,searching far and wide, each Pokémon to understandthe power that's inside." The way he sings it while smirking at Mercedes makes it sound almost perverted, but all 10 of the members are grinning at the nostalgia of the days where they knew all the words of the song, even Rachel and Kurt. They can't help but to join in the chorus. "Pokémon, gotta catch 'em all," they sing loudly, acting like this is totally normal. "It's you and me,' Finn points at Rachel, whose smile falters slightly, 'I know it's my destiny." Oblivious to her girlfriend and ex-boyfriend's exchange, Quinn grins at Rachel. You're my best friend, she mouths and the brunette's smile almost blinds her. "Pokémon, gotta catch 'em all, Pokémon!" they exclaim exuberantly in unison. It's ridiculous and they're 16 and probably a little too old for this, but this is what they live for. That moment where they're above all the petty relationships and quarrels, where they're just one group, one group of friends bonded by their quirks and their love of music, and apparently now, their love of Pokémon. High-fives and fistbumps are exchanged all around and Quinn resists the urge to punch Finn in the face
when he smiles adorably up at Rachel from his seat a few steps down. Rachel grins back, but then she looks at Quinn's slight scowl and she nudges her girlfriend before kissing her in the cheek, not caring who saw. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, most of them were facing the front and Kurt, Brittany and Santana were the only ones who'd noticed. Kurt gives her a thumbs-up and a wave. "Alright, alright," Mr. Schuester calls out, a wide grin on his face now. "That was great, you guys. Even though it wasn't technically a ballad, it was still a song that brought you guys closer together and that's what was amazing. Good job, you two." Finn and Puck high-five again, pleased smiles on their faces. "So, who's next? Um, Rachel, maybe you'd like to go for it? Quinn?" And then suddenly her heart is thundering in her chest and her throat is dry and there's no way she can sing this song with Rachel because oh god, what if either Finn or Puck try to kill either one of them? What is someone throws rotten tomatoes at them? What if someone throws a lemon? Quinn sucks in a quick breath, telling herself to calm down. She is being utterly ridiculous. Then a warm hand is holding hers and she forces a smile when the
brunette tugs her towards the front of the room. They don't bother hiding the hand-holding anymore, drawing confused looks from the boys except Kurt when they don't let go. Brittany waves at Quinn and Santana mouths the words 'Man up, woman!' which Quinn finds ironic. Smiling at her fellow glee clubbers, Rachel says, "The song Quinn and I will sing today is 'I Run To You' by Lady Antebellum. They co-wrote the song with Tom Douglas. It's their group's first number one single, reaching that peak in July 2009. Other than being in the group's self-titled debut album 'Lady Antebellum, the song also appears on 'Now That's What I Call Country Volume 2' as well as 'Now That's What I Call Music 31'. Now, in this song, already a duet, the narrators state that they turn to each other to escape the negativity and prejudice of the world." "Wait, it's a love song?" Finn cuts in abruptly. Puck's face darkens. "I've heard that song on the radio... Isn't it a love song?" Quinn nods, looking away from her mother. "Yeah,' she says quietly, 'it is." "Oh."
Taken-aback, Rachel glances at Quinn, who nods. "It's an expression against hate and prejudice, but also the redemption of love," she says quietly. She wonders how Rachel had convinced her to memorise the description on the Wikipedia page. "The two of you... are singing a love song." Puck states clearly, just the barest hint of disbelief in his voice. Quinn stares him down, and just as clearly says, "Yes, we are." His fist clench and he crosses his arms tightly. Finn looks extremely offended, but speechless. Mr. Schuester clears his throat for them to continue but Rachel looks hesitant. Quinn squeezes her hand, ignoring the strange looks they're getting from the stillspeechless members, and nods at the band. She smiles at Rachel again before singing, "***I run from hate, I run from prejudice, I run from pessimists, but I run too late." Rachel smiles back, drawing courage from her girlfriend's (girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, her girlfriend!) smile. "I run my life or is it running me, run from my past, I run too fast or too slow it seems." "When lies become the truth, that's when I run to you." And Quinn can see that for once, Rachel is singing not to the audience, but to her, to her and her alone. She is the sole focus of Rachel's intense gaze and even as the familiar words slip out of her mouth,
she has butterflies in her stomach, back flips in her heart and a hand in Rachel's hair and she knows there's probably a foolish smile on her face but she keeps singing, even when Rachel's hand slips around her waist and they're just singing to each other like they're in a goddamn cheesy romance movie. She's going to get so much shit from Santana later, but right then nothing matters except Rachel beaming at her like nothing else matters. "Whoa, oh, I run to you, girl," Quinn sings to Rachel. "This world keeps spinning faster," Rachel twirls away, one hand tangled with Quinn's, 'into a new disaster so I run to you, I run to you baby." And then all the girls except for Santana are clapping enthusiastically and Mike is wolf-whistling at them and Rachel is blushing. Matt claps, but though there's a slight smile on his face, he looks bored, as though he isn't shocked in the least. Artie looks thoughtful, but he claps as well. The only people not clapping are Puck and Finn. Finn looks like he's about to burst into a million question marks whereas Puck just looks irritated. He stands up and stares down at Quinn, who glares right back at him. "You picked Rachel Berry over me, Quinn? What, is going out with me that despicable that you'd rather go out with Berry? Did Finn turn you gay or did
I?" Quinn winces. "It's not about you, Noah. We're not... We're not going to happen. And I like Rachel. I'm sorry." Rachel grips Quinn by the waist tighter in a show of possessive defence, a move that doesn't escape Puck's notice at all. He scowls and stalks out of the room. The two girls glance at Finn. He shakes his head. "Is she why you didn't want to be with me?" His question is directed at Rachel, who sighs. "Finn, I never meant to hurt you and it's not you. We're just... We're not going to happen." Rachel looks hopelessly at Quinn. It's not an answer, but they both know he isn't really looking for one. The boy nods, clenching and unclenching his fists a few times before nodding again. "Okay," he says softly, not looking at either of them. "Okay, I get it. You... like each other?" "Yeah," they say simultaneously. Finn blinks, looking a little uncomfortable. His ex-girlfriend and his exalmost-girlfriend were together. He shakes his head and frowns, saying, "I have to go think for a bit," before walking out less dramatically than Puck had. "Oh my god, get over it, losers. They've been gay for each other since forever," Santana sneers. Kurt sniggers and Tina smiles at the pair.
"Well, uh, you girls sounded great together," Mr. Schuester says awkwardly. He glances at the door. The rest of the members look from the door to the girls who are still standing in front of them to the ground and back again. Artie doesn't understand how they can stand each other at all, but they're both hot, and that he can appreciate, even if Puck cannot. The logic behind their relationship doesn't really matter to him. Mike thinks Quinn looks happier, at least compared to a week ago. When she'd still been lying, with Finn and with Puck trying to make her explode into a screaming wreck, she'd walked around with an invisible weight on her shoulders. Her dancing, he'd noticed, had been less loose. She'd been tired and he'd noticed, even if she'd been trying to hide it. But now she looked happier, calmer. Oh, and Rachel seemed to be talking a little less, which he thinks is nice. At least she wasn't trying to start the 'Cauc-Asian Society' with him anymore... Matt's hungry. He'd missed lunch because Tina had wanted to make sure he knew the words to the duet they were singing. Who didn't know the words to 'Hakuna Matata'? Rachel and Quinn looked sweet together though. Tina suddenly wonders what it was like to kiss a girl. She blushes.
Mercedes wonders whether they'll ever be able to have a normal practice for once. Kurt looks down at his nails and marvels at the fact that despite all the suffocating pressure in the room, his nails have yet to crack. "Are we going to get on with it or are we just going to sit here? Or is practice cancelled again?" Santana asks sarcastically. Brittany tugs lightly at Santana's ponytail, but there's a slight smile on her face that says she agrees with Santana. Rachel glances at Mr. Schuester, who looks lost. She shakes her head. "Maybe we should just stop here, Mr. Schuester." The teacher shrugs helplessly. If even Rachel Berry didn't want to practice..."Does anyone want to continue?" Almost immediately, the club stands and starts gathering their things. "No way we were going to get anything done today anyway," Mercedes mutters. "Okay then, I'll see you kids later." And then he slumps out the room, looking a little less depressed than he had been when he first walked in. Rachel pulls Quinn a little closer to look up at her. "You should go find Puck."
"Probably," Quinn frowns. "You want to talk to Finn, huh?" She can't help the faintest trace of jealousy that creeps into her voice. "Need to, not want to," Rachel corrects her girlfriend, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Go on. I'll meet you by the car after." "Noah." "Don't call me that." "It's your name." Quinn desperately tries not to roll her eyes at how petulant he sounds. "No it's not. It's the name my dad gave me and I don't give two shits about him or that name so don't call me that!" Puck growls. Quinn nods before delicately sitting down a step below him on the bleachers. The football field is empty, the sky blue, and the tension between them tangible. "I'm sorry," she says softly. He sighs and he suddenly looks older than 16. The sunlight glances off him and as he looks away, and she thinks that maybe, if they'd both been a little older and things had turned out a little bit different, he could have been the one she'd want to be with instead. But he's not, she's not, and she isn't.
"I'm always going to be the last choice, huh? Even when we were kids, I could tell. You'd already decided he was going to be the boyfriend you 'fell in love' with, be Homecoming Queen, rule the school.' Puck laughs mirthlessly. 'And me? I was the delinquent, wasn't I? I was always the boy who doesn't do anything except cause trouble and shove people into dumpsters and fuck older women. Always the last choice. Right, Fabray?" What can she say to that? It's not true? But it was. She'd chosen Finn over him, then she'd chosen Rachel over him. Despite herself, she feels guilty. He sounded extremely hurt, but again, what he'd said was true. He was bad news, or that's what he showed the world. "For someone out there, you're the first choice," she offers him a smile. He shakes his head again. "Santana fucking dumped me for a girl. I got you pregnant and then you got a girl. Do I just turn chicks gay or something?" "Maybe you're gay, too," Quinn says seriously, but with a grin on her face and he smiles back weakly. Then the smile falls off. "I've loved you for a while." He stares at his shoes firmly.
Quinn sighs. "Puck..." "Yeah, I get it. Nothing between us and all that crap. But y'know, if Berry ever loses interest... What is it about you, Fabray, that makes the most unlikely people fall for you?" He looks up at her, gazing at her with a look on his face that turns him from Puck to Noah Puckerman. Quinn swallows. "I don't know. I don't deserve her. Or Finn. Or even you, for that matter." "Bullshit." She shrugs. "Whatever." He stands up, stretches. "Never thought I'd say this to anyone, but I think... I think I'll always love you a little bit. Or if Berry doesn't want to put out," he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Quinn nods, knowing that he's just bringing his walls back up, his refusal to have a heart. "You're a good guy, Puck. Or you could be, maybe, if you wanted to." He falters for a second, and then scoffs. "Sure. Seeya round, Quinn." He's about the length of a swimming pool away when he yells back her, "And if you ever want a threesome, you know my number!"
She can only watch as he walks off. She bites her lip. This was... good, right? But still, she can't help but think she'd made a mistake judging him so easily. She unconsciously puts a hand on her stomach and frowns. No, she wasn't wrong. What was done was done, and they'd both have to deal with the consequences and move on. No matter what, he would always be the boy who forgot or didn't want to use a condom and got her pregnant and made her world come crashing down. And he wasn't the only one to blame for it, because things happen, but Quinn knows that for a long time, that's all Puck will be in her mind. "Rachel, I'm in here." The brunette glances into the empty, dim classroom and squints before she notices Finn sitting next to the window. She turns on the light. "Hi." She perches herself on the teacher's desk. "Hey." Rachel waits for him to speak, looks at him while he struggles with his words. Would she have fallen for him at some point? Could she have? She narrows her eyes. Did she want to? "Look, I'm really, really sorry about what I said the other night. I- I don't usually say stuff like that. I don't
know why I said that and I really didn't mean it. You're not... You're not a... that," he said uncomfortably. "I accept your apology,' Rachel says slowly, 'and I guess I'm sorry, too. I suppose from another perspective it would be like I led you on, but I didn't mean too. I didn't want to be with you while thinking of someone else. It wouldn't have been fair on either of us. So I broke off whatever we were before it could get any more serious the moment I realised. But I would still like to be friends with you." Finn nods. "That'd be cool." Rachel nods awkwardly. "So... you like her?" "Yes." He looks away. "More than me?" "I like you in different ways and I don't think you really want the answer to that question," Rachel replies calmly, but sharply. Finn looks up at her pleadingly. "What did I do wrong? Why does everyone keep falling for Quinn Fabray? She cheated on me and lied to me; she was like, evil to you! She called you names and loads of other stuff. She doesn't even like you!"
It takes all of Rachel's self control to not hurl the duster at Finn's head. "If you recall correctly, Finn Hudson, you were never particularly nice to me until you joined Glee Club and figured out I liked you, either. You never stopped anyone from throwing Slushies at me, calling me names or treating me like I'm nothing. Yes, she didn't treat me particularly well, but I'd like to think I'm right in thinking she's changed. She's been nothing but sweet to me since everything fell apart and maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I don't think she'll go back to who she was.' "You're not faultless, Finn. None of us are. But what's perfect about each one of us is the ability to look past all of that. Look past her mistakes and accept that she was scared and had no one to turn to. She was afraid and she did the only thing she could think of. Don't blame her for that. And don't forget that what you did was part of what led her to doing what led to her pregnancy." It's quiet in the classroom for a while again before Finn speaks. "You're right," he admits. Quinn knocks on the door, startling the both of them. "Finn. Do you mind if I talk to Rachel alone?" He shrugs and stands up. He stops next to her before leaving. "I'm sorry."
The blonde nods. "I'm sorry too," she hugs him lightly. He nods at the both of them and walks out, his shoulders hunched. And so ended one high school romance, a romance that never really was, Quinn ponders. She'd used him and thrown him away, and he had fallen down and into two pieces. How many people was she going to break before she stopped? Was she going to break Rachel? By accident, by mistake... She looks sadly at her girlfriend who is still seated on the teacher's table. Quinn moves to stand in front of her and Rachel tugs her close. "Hey," she smiles. Quinn pensively runs her hands through Rachel's hair. "If I ever go back to who I was, shoot me." Rachel gasps and pokes her in the side. "Quinn Fabray, were you listening outside the door?" "I was walking past the door and I happened to hear you so I stopped to listen because I absolutely adore your voice,' Quinn raves, 'and I simply couldn't resist the urge to- Ow! Poke me again and I swear I'll-" Rachel cut her off with a kiss and Quinn tries not to roll her eyes at how cliché it all is. She kisses back instead. Grinning, the brunette pulls back. "Eavesdropping
charmer," she teases. Quinn smiles. "I mean it though. I don't ever want to go back to being who I was." "Me neither," Rachel says simply. Quinn tucks her head against Rachel's neck and sighs. "Do you think our lives would have been easier if we were with the people we're supposed to be with?" Rachel scowls. "You mean Finn and Noah?" "Yeah." "What makes you think I'm not the person you're supposed to be with?" Rachel fires back, subtly pushing Quinn away. Quinn hides a smile and presses her lips against Rachel's neck, halting her girlfriend's mild protests. "I meant,' she murmurs against Rachel's jaw line, 'the people we were expected to be with." "Oh,' Rachel replies, not really concentrating what Quinn is saying, her focus more on where her lips are, 'I suppose lots of things would be much simpler, certainly. But if everything went as expected life would be pretty boring."
"Are you bored now?" "Absolutely not in the least. But maybe this would be more comfortable on a bed?" Quinn leans back and laughs. "You're like a teenage boy." Rachel shrugs. "Never denied it." "C'mon, horndog,' she helps Rachel off the table and pulls her out the door. "Hey, we sounded great together earlier." "We did,' Rachel agrees, 'You sounded perfect." Raising her eyebrows, Quinn says, "Really?" Rachel blushes. "Almost. You wavered a little at the beginning, and you went a little bit sharp on some of the notes. But it's nothing a few more practices won't fix. It's a good song. We could probably even sing it for Sectionals! It's a song with an excellent message, at least." Quinn grins and listens as Rachel keeps talking while they walk. Epilogue or no? *Lucky – Colbie Caillat ft Jason Mraz
** Pokémon Theme – Billy Crawford *** I Run To You – Lady Antebellum
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