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Title: You Give Me Fever

Author: Hippo_Crat
Rating: Light R
Length: 3,100 words
Spoilers: Preggers
Summary: McKinley High School is having a talent
show and Rachel wants to win it.
Pairing: Minor Rachel/OFC, some Quinn/Rachel if you
squint

Rachel Berry surveyed her appearance one last time


in the mirror of her makeshift dressing area. She drew
in a nervous breath and straightened her tie. It was a
simple talent competition and there was no need to be
nervous—she had, without exaggeration, won dozens
of these things. Tonight was different though, there
was a lot riding on her performance.

It had all started about two weeks ago before practice


when Artie, Mercedes, Tina and Kurt had been
discussing the upcoming talent competition and their
respective pieces.

"I really think that my Hendrix medley is a clincher for


first place this year. I've been practicing my transitions
and I'm gonna add kick-ass some wheelchair
choreography." Artie popped a wheelie
demonstratively.

Mercedes grinned at the nerdy boy's antics. "Sorry


Artie, you're just gonna have to make do with second
place. Me and Kurt's "Telephone" tribute is going to
be the show stopper of the night!" The black girl
exchanged exuberant fist bumps with her BFF.

Tina turned to Rachel. "Have you decided on a


performance number?" She inquired politely. Tina
didn't have to ask if Rachel was going to enter the
competition as that was a foregone conclusion.

Kurt snorted indelicately. "Of course she's decided.


She probably decided weeks ago after a lengthy
debate of the pros and cons of various Broadway
standards."

"The hardest part was rejecting all the Celine Dion


ballads she already has arrangements for." Mercedes
piped up with saccharine sincerity.

"While I appreciate your attempts to acquaint yourself


with the intricacies of my character, Mercedes, I am
afraid I'll have to disappoint you." Rachel lifted her
chin stubbornly; aware of the looks of disbelief her
teammates were giving her.

"So you're not singing some old Broadway standard


no one cares about?" Artie asked, his jaw nearly
dislocated in shock.

Rachel sniffed disdainfully. Her original plan had been


to perform an amusing rendition of Sondheim's "Not
Getting Married Today" from Company but there was
no way she was confirming their beliefs. "As a matter
of fact I have something quite out of the ordinary
planned."

"Do tell." Kurt stated dryly. He smelled blood in the


water and was going in for the figurative kill.

"The surprise is a key element of any performance


and therefore I couldn't possibly reveal anything about
it." Rachel preened. She was incredibly proud that her
attempt at dissembling sounded so believable; years
of acting classes were paying off yet again.

"Bull shit." Mercedes said with a smile on her face.

"I assure you, I have no reason to lie or otherwise


mislead you." When Rachel smiled it was almost
sincere.

"Prove it." Kurt knew if he could keep Rachel talking


she would inevitably dig her own grave.

"How?" It was a fair question and for several moments


there was silence as the answer was contemplated.

"We could make a bet." Tina offered quietly,


uncomfortable with the silence.

Kurt pounced on the suggestion. "Perfect! If we are


not 'shocked' at whatever your performance is at the
talent show you forfeit your next three solos."
Mercedes gasped and looked positively giddy at the
suggestion.

"Done. But when I inevitably surprise you all I get


three vetoes to use at any point I disagree with any
suggestions being made. Once I use a veto you all
have to support me no matter what I say."

"Agreed." Handshakes sealed the deal.

Of course making the bet had been the easy part, the
task of choosing a song and choreography with the
intent to shock her fellow glee clubbers out of
complacency was another matter entirely.

Rachel didn't really have any friends, a fact she was


well-acquainted with without everyone tossing it in her
face every five minutes, and knew if she was going to
have a partner in her dance it was going to cost her.

Two days after Rachel had made the bet the tiny
prima donna found herself loitering outside Mdm.
Sabado's dance studio waiting for class to let out. If
pressed the petite brunette would be willing to admit
that to a less informed individual she would appear to
be a creepy stalker, nevertheless her target had just
exited the women's changing room and Rachel wasn't
about to miss her chance.

"Amanda, if I may have a moment of your time? I


have a business proposition which I feel would be
mutually advantageous while simultaneously
providing the benefit of increasing your practical
experience in the cross-cultural arena of dancing."

Amanda sighed and turned around to face the singer.


While she would much rather be on her way home for
a relaxing shower, years of previous experience had
taught her it was best to let Rachel get whatever
psychotic notion that was bothering her off her chest
or the brunette would dog her steps.

"What do you want, Rachel?" The blonde teenager


reflexively took a step back when Rachel invaded her
personal bubble.

"It is a matter of need, Amanda. I need your


assistance. Since you don't attend McKinley High
School I would not expect you to be aware of its
upcoming talent competition. Suffice is to say that
there is a talent competition coming up and I will be
competing in it. While my talent dwarves that of my
competitors I've made arrangements to handicap
myself and make my victory all the more palatable. To
put it succinctly—"

Amanda arched an amused eyebrow here.

"I have a performance in mind that will knock my


naysayer's socks off, but to accomplish that I require
a talented dance partner and as such you were first in
mind." Rachel took a deep breath and eyed the
sweaty blonde expectantly.

Despite herself Amanda was somewhat flattered at


being Rachel's first choice. For all her bluster and
rampant narcissism Rachel was a fantastic dancer
and had an incredible eye for talent; when she
complemented someone it was always meant in the
most sincere (if occasionally insulting) manner
possible.

"I was your first choice?" The pleasure in her voice


betrayed her.

Rachel grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Naturally. You


are an incredibly gifted dancer, and the only one I
know who is my height."

The partial smiled slipped off the blonde's face as


quickly as it had appeared. Somewhat disgruntled she
asked, "What's in it for me?"

Appalled Rachel let out a scandalized gasp. "What's


in it for you? Beyond the glory of a victory to bask in?
Beyond the joy of dancing on the stage? Beyond the
honor of being my partner?"

Amanda remained unmoved. Rachel exhaled loudly


and seemed to deflate before Amanda's eyes.

"I'll split the prize money, fifty-fifty." She said frankly.


The lithe dancer considered the proposition for a
moment before shrugging. "I'm game."

"Again. From the top."

Amanda blew a sweaty strand of hair away from her


eyes and glared at the tiny taskmaster who had spent
the past two hours criticizing what the blonde
considered to be flawless performances. "What was
wrong this time?" The dancer considered herself to be
a mild manner person but Rachel was being
particularly challenging today.

Rachel gestured at her laptop, frustration written all


over her expressive face.

Upon approaching the open laptop Amanda realized


Rachel had been recording their practice runs. "Why
are you recording us?" She asked, too tired to add
'you psychotic sadist' but the words were implied in
the tone.

Aghast Rachel faced the blonde dancer. "How else


are we to judge the subjective nature of our dance?"
The brunette scarcely waited a breath before she
continued in her earlier criticism. "Our blocking is
perfect, and the choreography is brilliant but I can't
help but feel our chemistry is lacking."

"And the chemistry is more important than our


technical perfection?"

"Of course not, but the emotion behind the song


hinges on the interaction between the dancers. Now
since I could have chemistry with a rock if I needed to
the problem must lie with you."

Amanda stared at Rachel with slack jawed disbelief.


She was the problem?

Rachel didn't seem to notice her temporary partner's


reaction as she launched into a litany of ways
Amanda could improve.

"You don't think we have chemistry?"

"Well to be honest currently we're baking soda and


vinegar, or Diet Coke and Mentos if you prefer; there's
a reaction but it's fizzy and vapid. Where we want to
be, where we need to be is sodium added to water."
Rachel grinned, seemingly delighted by her analogy.
She paused dramatically waiting for Amanda to cue
her.

The blonde teen sighed. "What happens when you


add sodium to water?"

"There's a ka-boom, an Earth shattering ka-boom."


Rachel smiled mischievously thinking herself quite
witty. Amanda smiled in return, thinking of sending the
brunette through the door face first.
"Fine. Whatever. We'll go again—from the top."

"All I ask is for perfection."

Twelve days later and Rachel was right back where


she started. The teen bent down to fiddle with her
shoes for the hundredth time. The shoe lifts added an
additional two and a half inches to her height but they
were not the most comfortable things in the world.
Rachel had spent numerous hours practicing her part
of the choreography in them trying to get used to the
different perspective the lifts gave her.

"Are you—what are you wearing?" Amanda stopped


short as she entered the room and stared at her
dance partner with wide eyes.

Rachel looked down at her suit and once again


adjusted the tie. "My costume. I believe it
complements yours well."

The petite blonde had to hand it to Rachel; when it


came to performances the diva was fearless. "No—I
mean, yeah. You look—, you're certainly going to
leave a lasting impression with the audience. Are you
ready?" Amanda asked, avoiding direct eye contact
while simultaneously fiddling with the neck strap to
the halter dress she was wearing.

Rachel dusted off non-existent dust from her tailored


trousers and preened at her reflection. "I'm relatively
positive I was born ready."

"Well, let's do the damn thang."

Brown eyes blinked in confusion. "I'm not certain what


that means, but it's time to go on stage."

The stage was dark when Rachel and Amanda


walked across it, each taking their mark. Amanda took
position in the center and waited for the music to
begin. The gentle beat of the drum sounded and a
spotlight bathed the blonde dancer in light as Amanda
began to sway in time.

Rachel took a deep breath and let the excitement of


performing rush over her. She could feel the crowds'
energy and she took it, used it to feed her song.

"Never know how much I love you,

Ya never know how much I care,"

Rachel strutted upstage with an affected, masculine


swagger until she was directly behind her partner.

"When you put your arms around me,

I get a feeling that I just can't bear."

She put her hands on Amanda's hips as she drew the


blonde backwards, closing the distance between her
hips and Amanda's rear. The shoes and inserts
combined to make Rachel a hair above 5'5"; it was
enough to tower over Amanda's height of 5' while
simultaneously providing a striking height difference.

"You give me fever when you kiss me,

Fever when you hold me tight."

The two girls rolled their hips together in a


provocative, syncopated rhythm. Amanda raised a
hand and cradled the back of Rachel's neck. She
turned in the hold to face the brunette and pushed the
suit jacket down off the girl's shoulders before
dropping it carelessly to the floor.

"Fever in the morning, fever all through the night."

The tiny diva's voice was low and smoky. She was
singing at the lower register of her range and the
timbre was doing strange things to Amanda's spine.
She shivered almost imperceptibly and the hairs
along the back of her neck stood on end. Rachel spun
Amanda out of her hold but even with distance
between the two they moved together.

"Bless my soul I love you, take this heart away


Take these arms, I never use them
And just believe what my lips have to say."
Again Rachel drew Amanda into the slow cha-cha
style dance. Maybe it was a little more intimate than
their initial choreography suggested but Amanda
would ascribe the change to their new-found
chemistry. The blonde slid a hand underneath one of
the suspenders and pulled it away, leaving the strap
hanging listlessly at Rachel's side.

"You give me fever - when you kiss me, fever when


you hold me tight
Fever in the morning, fever all through the night."

Rachel pulled the blonde in closer and lifted


Amanda's thigh in an effort to increase the about of
contact between their bodies. Amanda pulled hard on
the skinny red tie and arched her body into Rachel's
touch.

"Listen to me baby, hear every word I say


No one can love you the way that I do
Cause they don't know how to love you in my way"

A hand trailed possessively down the valley between


her breasts and Amanda would have gasped if she
didn't think Rachel would kill her if the microphone
picked up the sound. Rachel gave a mischievous wink
from beneath the brim of her hat, all dark eyes and
promises.

"You give me fever; when you kiss me, fever when


you hold me tight
Fever in the morning, fever all through the night."

As before, their bodies were pressed together, hips


rolling in an eager dance. Amanda's blood boiled in
her veins. She was positive she would spontaneously
combust if she didn't get the release she so
desperately craved soon.

"Oh yeah, fever all through the night."

As the last note fell from Rachel's mouth Amanda


knocked the fedora off her partners head. The
luscious chocolate curls that came tumbling down
were soon caught in Amanda's greedy fists as she
pulled Rachel in for a searing kiss. Moments after the
kiss began the music faded and the stage went black.

Rachel pulled away from the blonde's hungry mouth


to complain. "That wasn't part of the choreography."
She said, her voice still too deliciously husky to be
called a whine.

"Complain later." Amanda commanded, practically


dragging Rachel off the stage. Her body was
practically vibrating with arousal and her partner was
going to have to do something about it.

Once safely ensconced in the deserted dressing area


Amanda refastened her lips to Rachel's. Her
lecherous hands, having a mind of their own, traveled
up the brunette's body and slipped under the only
suspender that was still in place. Prize in hand she
slowly and teasingly slid the strap down Rachel's arm
and wasted no time in unbuttoning the white,
pinstriped, button-down shirt desperate to touch the
smooth flesh it held from sight.

Always one for detail Rachel had bound her breasts


keeping them securely protected from Amanda's
licentious efforts. The dancer growled with frustration,
Rachel would be more trouble than she was worth if
she wasn't so ridiculously attractive.

Unfortunately Rachel was attractive, in every sense of


the word. Hell Amanda thought the girl might even be
magnetic because every atom in her body desired to
be closer to the infuriating girl.

Rachel staggered under the assault and stumbled


backwards until she found the couch, her wobbly
knees were thankful for the respite as she collapsed
pulling the blonde down with her. The singer's hand
traveled up the slit of Amanda's dress and eventually
settled on the other girl's ass. Without any input from
her brain Amanda rolled her hips and grinded her
body against Rachel's.

Their mutual gasps were drowned out by several


louder gasps, a girlish scream and a cry of "Damn,
Berry, get some!".

Amanda groaned and buried her face in Rachel's


neck. If she didn't acknowledge the situation behind
her it didn't exist and she would be free to finish
uninterrupted. Rachel had no such luck as over
Amanda's naked shoulder she could see the entire
New Directions team staring at her in disbelief.

Puck was shamelessly grinning, resisting Mercedes'


effort to pull him away. Matt and Artie had evidently
found something really interesting on the ceiling to
stare at. Kurt was covering his eyes and whimpering
about horror-induced blindness. Mike had turned a
really interesting shade of red as he tried to flee the
scene. Finn had his eyes clenched shut and he
seemed to be murmuring something under his breath.
Tina and Brittany were watching with fascination, the
blonde kept tilting her head to try and get a better
view.

Rachel retied the top of Amanda's dress before


standing. "While I enjoy accolades as much as the
next person, perhaps your concession of my victory
could wait until Monday. Or until such a time as I'm
not otherwise engaged.

Santana rolled her eyes and began to usher all the


glee kids out the door in her usual tactful manner.

"Move your asses, people! Nothing to see here, just


some shim-on-girl action."

One by one the teens either left or were forced out


until only Quinn remained. Hazel eyes were fixed on
the petite brunette taking in every inch of her
disheveled appearance; the messy hair, the flushed
skin, the slightly puffy lips, the unbuttoned shirt—all
the smooth skin and muscles it exposed—, the
suspenders hanging uselessly above the ground and
the partially un-zippered pants.

In some far flung corner of her mind Quinn was


disappointed to realize that having your mind blown
didn't really make a sound.

"Quinn?" The brunette was puzzled by the pregnant


teen's continued presence.

Quinn blinked suddenly, coming out of whatever


trance she had been in. The girl opened her mouth to
speak only to be cut off by Santana's reappearance.
"Come on Jamie-Lynn; let's leave the Hermaphro-
dyke to do it's thing." She turned and addressed
Rachel in parting, "See you later Ellen, have fun with
Portia. And remember to wrap it before you tap it."

Rachel rolled her eyes in irritation. Only she would


have the misfortune of having the entire glee club
cock block her (or something). She could hear the
whisper of fabric rustling as Amanda rose from the
couch.

"It should be said that I like your clothes," Rachel


closed her eyes as Amanda whispered in her ear. "but
I think I'll like you even better out of them."

The brunette smirked and turned into the shorter girl's


embrace. "My dads are out of town all week."

Rachel won the talent show.

As well as the bet that went along with it.

*********

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers


and creators.

A/N: Ironically, this came from my boredom. If you like


Finn, you are going to feel really bad for him later on.

How Much Do You Know About…

"I'm bored."

Quinn sighed. "I think we're all well aware of that by


now, Puck."

"We could…play a board game," Kurt suggested


cautiously.

"Dude, we've already watched you and Rachel play


chess twice, and we've had to watch the 'Single
Ladies' routine like three times just since I got here,"
Puck grumped. "No more suggestions from you."
"He's just mad because I won the last round," Rachel
said happily.

Finn smiled and rubbed her shoulders.

"Only because you cheated," Kurt muttered.

"Taking good advice from Artie does not count as


cheating," she retorted.

"Whatever. I'm bored."

"And I'm bored of you saying that," Santana snipped.


"Someone please come up with something to do so
he stops whining."

Rachel thought on it. "We could play 'How Much Do


You Know About,'" she offered.

"What is that?" Mercedes asked, exchanging a


confused glance with Kurt.

"It's a game where the person in question writes down


trivia questions—usually ten or less—about
themselves and then reads them out. Someone else
keeps track of the score, although they may still
answer questions, and whoever answers the most
questions correctly wins."

"I'm game," Puck said, stretching. "Is there a strip


version?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "No. Who wants to go first?"

"It's your game," Kurt pointed out.

"It's not my game, it's just a—"

"I'll go," Matt offered, in the interests of shutting her


up.

She beamed. "Great. I'll get pens and a notebook."

XXXXXX

"Okay, Rachel, you keep score," Matt instructed,


clearing his throat. "Here we go. What is my favorite
color?"

"Green," Mike said.

"Correct. What is my favorite food?"

"Cake." Mike again.

"Correct."

"Not even a specific kind of cake? Just…cake?" Artie


asked, brow furrowing.

"It's tasty. Anyway, what is my favorite holiday?"


Mike frowned and Santana said, "Valentine's Day."
Everyone chuckled, so she said, "No, seriously. From
the first grade to, like, sixth, he always left 'secret'
cards in everyone's lockers. Thank God he realized
how uncool that is."

Matt was turning red.

"Oh, so you were my 'secret admirer'!" Tina


exclaimed, smiling. "I remember only getting one card
every year, until the seventh grade. I thought it was
really sweet."

"Anyway! What is my dream vacation spot?"

"Was that correct?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, woman, just write it down and move on!" he


exclaimed, glaring at Santana.

"Hey, you didn't have to write it as one of the


questions," she said, shrugging.

"I was hoping someone would guess something cool.


Like Halloween," he replied irritably. "Is someone
going to answer?"

"Oh, Orlando, Florida!" Mercedes blurted.

"Correct."
She smiled, pleased, and Mike asked, "How did you
know that?"

"We played a game of 'Anywhere But Here' once, and


that was his. Along with Megan Fox in a bathing suit."

"Dude, sweet," Puck commented.

"What is my favorite song?"

"'Hate On Me', by Jill Scott," Mercedes said, high-


fiving him.

"What's my favorite TV show?"

"'24'," Mike said quickly, rushing to beat Mercedes.

"Right. What's my favorite movie?"

"'Die Hard'!" Mike exclaimed.

Matt grinned. "You know it, dude. Okay, who is my


favorite superhero?"

"Spiderman!" Mike and Puck said at nearly the same


time.

Matt glanced at Rachel. "Think Mike got that. If I were


a superhero, what would be my powers of choice?"
"Superspeed, superstrength, and X-ray vision!" Mike
said rapidly, shooting a triumphant look at Puck and
Mercedes.

"Yeah, baby," Puck said, grinning. Most likely at the


X-ray vision part, but everyone decided not to
overanalyze it.

"Okay, and lastly, why don't I like Swiss cheese?" He


smirked, thinking no one would get it.

"It's not supposed to have holes in it," Kurt said flatly.

"How did you know that?" he demanded, scowling.

"You went on for an hour about it at Sectionals. I will


never forget that cheese isn't cheese unless it doesn't
have holes," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Dude, they're just holes," Finn commented.

"It's weird!"

"Who won?" Mike asked eagerly.

"Hang on, I'm still tallying," Rachel said dismissively.


"Okay, I think I can say with certainty that Mike is the
winner of this round, with six questions right."

He grinned. "What do I win?"


She frowned. "I don't know. There's some cookies in
the kitchen, if you—"

He leapt up and dashed out of the room. She sighed.

"Who's up next?" Rachel asked, looking around.

"I think the person who just went should get to pick,"
Matt suggested.

"Good idea. Go ahead."

He grinned. "Santana."

"What? Ugh, fine."

XXXXXX

"Rachel, you can keep keeping score." Santana


sighed. "Is everyone ready?"

Brittany straightened, bobbing her head, and there


were general sounds of assent around the room. Mike
was back with his cookies, which he kept out of Matt's
reach.

"What is my favorite color?"

"Cream," Brittany said immediately.

"Question thief," Matt muttered.


"'Favorite' questions are fair game, right, Rachel?"

"Yes."

"Okay. What is my favorite food?"

"Lasagna." Brittany again.

"You're not giving anyone else a chance, Brit,"


Mercedes teased.

The blonde smiled proudly.

"What is my favorite holiday?"

"Halloween." Brittany. Again.

"What's my favorite song?"

"'Rockstar', by Prima J." Brittany.

Santana smiled. "What's my favorite TV show?"

"'Grey's Anatomy'," she said eagerly. "We watch it


together."

"What's my favorite movie?"

"'Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End'," Quinn


said absently. Brittany immediately began pouting,
and Quinn patted her comfortingly. "I only know
because it hasn't changed since the seventh grade."

Brittany nodded grudgingly, and Santana turned to


the notebook again.

"Why don't I like dogs?"

"They drool too much." Brittany grinned triumphantly.

"You don't like dogs?" Tina asked, sounding hurt.

"What is wrong with you?" Mike added.

"It's my round; shut up. How old was I when I first had
sex?"

"Fifteen," Quinn said. Brittany frowned at her and


Quinn explained, "She came to my house crying after
it happened."

"I wasn't crying," Santana snapped. "Anyway. What is


my favorite sexy outfit on guys?"

"Cowboy," Puck said, grinning.

"I knew I didn't want to know what you guys were


doing in that storage closet after 'Last Name'," Finn
said, shaking his head.

Brittany pouted. "I don't like that question."


"You'll like this one better. Who was my first kiss?"

"Cameron Weatherton!" she said excitedly.

"Hey, I remember him," Tina said suddenly. "He


played the clarinet in band. Whatever happened to
him?"

"He transferred after Santana broke his collarbone


when he dumped her," Brittany explained calmly.

"Oh."

"Who won?" Santana asked.

"I think it's safe to say Brittany won. I stopped


counting after she got the fifth question in a row,"
Rachel said, shrugging.

Brittany clapped and Santana smiled at her. "Yay


me!"

"Okay, who's next, Santana?"

She peered around the group. "Hmm…Tina."

"Me? Oh…okay."

XXXXXX
"Rachel, are you still keeping score?"

"Yep."

"Okay." Tina took a breath. "What is my favorite


color?"

"Again, with the question-thieving," Matt mumbled,


shaking his head at the injustice of it.

"Dark violet," Artie said, smiling.

"What's my favorite song?"

"'Complicated', by Avril Lavigne. For now, anyway."


Artie winked and Tina smiled.

"What's my favorite TV show?"

"'House'," Mercedes blurted, a split-second before


Artie.

"Right. Um, what's my favorite movie?"

"'Legally Blonde'," Mercedes said, smiling. "Ironically


enough."

Tina blushed. "What's my favorite book?"

"'Crime and Punishment'," Rachel said, and when


they all looked at her, she added, "I've seen you
reading it at the library. You read it almost every
week, it seems like."

Tina smiled again. "Where would my dream wedding


be?"

Kurt sighed dreamily. "On the beach of San


Francisco."

"What shirt of mine did Mr. Schue say made me look


grown-up?"

"Oh! That classy black one with the V in the neck and
three-quarter length sleeves and the back laces up!
Gorgeous!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly.

Tina giggled. "Right. I-I decided to do a few dessert


ones, because I-I love chocolate." She blushed. "How
do I like my brownies?"

"A la mode, with chocolate chips," Artie said, happy to


finally get another one.

"What is my favorite type of cookie?"

"Oreos." Artie again.

"And what is my favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Chocolate swirl!" Artie.


Tina grinned. "Great. That's all I have."

"Tallying…" Rachel said. "Aha, and it'll be Artie with


five." She smiled.

Artie grinned.

"You pick the next person, T," Mercedes urged.

"Oh…um…Puck?"

He grinned; everyone groaned.

XXXXXX

"All right, Rach, babe, you gonna keep score again?"

"Only if you cease calling me babe."

"Sweet. I decided to go with a few of you loser's


questions, because I figured some of the ladies would
find my other ones offensive."

"And we appreciate it," Quinn said.

He grinned. "What's my favorite color?"

"Black," Finn said.

"Right, dude. What's my favorite song?"


"'Ride Wit Me', by Nelly?" Finn asked.

Puck gave a thumbs-up. "What's my favorite TV


show?"

"'CSI: Miami'," Finn said, more certainly this time.

"Why that particular CSI?" Kurt asked curiously.

"Emily Procter is a babe."

"Ah."

"My favorite movie?"

"'The Bourne Identity'." Finn again.

"My favorite food?"

"Mashed potatoes," Kurt said, just a second before


Finn. When they all looked at him, he said, "I only
know because he insisted I mention having them for
dinner to Rachel."

"That explains it," Rachel commented, shaking her


head.

"Okay. Now for the real questions." Puck grinned.


"Who in this room do I have the hots for?"

Everyone blurted at once, "Everyone."


"Hey! You're all wrong! Just the girls! God!" Puck
shook it off while everyone smirked. "How old was I
when I first had sex?"

"Now that is question-stealing," Santana said


pointedly to Matt.

"Fourteen," Finn said.

"Just a couple days after my birthday party." Puck


sighed sentimentally. "Anyway, how many women
have I slept with?"

There was silence.

"Nine?" Mike guessed tentatively.

"Dude. Up high."

Mike grinned, proud of himself, and dug back into the


plate of cookies after giving Puck the high-five.

"Now, how many girls have I slept with?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You practically handed me


this one. Thirteen."

"You remember that?"

"I was drunk, not unconscious—unfortunately. And


how could I possibly forget your list of reasons to
sleep with you, including your fantastic record of
twelve gorgeous girls who were all quivering by the
time you were finished with them?" she said
sardonically.

"Well, it got you in bed, didn't it?"

"No, alcohol did."

"Moving on," Rachel interrupted, and Puck sighed.

"Fine. Okay, last question. And there's an extra point


in it for why. Who is my favorite making-out partner?"

"Santana?" Mercedes guessed.

"Quinn?" Artie tried.

"No, Rachel," Matt said, grinning. "I remember you


telling me this now. She's your favorite because she
moves around a lot while she's on top."

"Excellent, bro."

Rachel blushed crimson. "Noah…."

"What? It's a compliment," he said defensively.

"Right, but did you really have to go tell Matt about my


proficiencies in the bedroom?"
Quinn groaned. "Can we please move on? I may not
be carrying a baby anymore, but I can still get
grossed out."

Puck sighed. "Fine. Rachel, you've been keeping


score for a while. It's your turn."

"Oh, well…okay."

"Wait, who won?" Finn asked.

"You did."

"Oh, cool. I get to win two in a row. This is awesome."


He grinned.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

XXXXXX

"Tina, do you mind keeping score for me?"

"Not at all."

Rachel sighed, preparing herself. "Okay. What are my


goals for the future?"

Everyone started speaking at once, and when the last


of them stopped talking, she exchanged a glance with
Tina.
"Maybe everyone should split that point," she
suggested.

Tina nodded. "Good idea."

"Please tell us you're going to ask harder questions


than that," Kurt begged. "If you don't, this is going to
be the most boring game ever."

"Of course they're going to get harder. How much do


you think you know about me anyway?" she asked
superiorly.

Everyone thought about that for a moment and


decided they'd rather not answer.

"So, next question. Where is my favorite spot to be


touched?"

Puck grinned and lurched forward, swiping his hand


over her ribs, just under her breast, from behind.
"Right here, baby."

Rachel shivered and giggled, and everyone stared at


her. Finn scowled.

"What? I had to give him one."

They all shrugged, mentally moving on.


"Okay, now for some easier ones. What is my favorite
color?"

Finn said, "Blue," just as Quinn said, "Red."

He frowned at her. "Why would her favorite color be


red?"

"Why would it be blue?" she retorted.

"She wears blue all the time," he said defensively.

"That doesn't mean it's her favorite. Look, when we


did the Madonna number, she insisted that we save
red for her. Thus, it's her favorite color. Get over it,"
she said, rolling her eyes and going back to painting
her toenails.

Finn looked at Rachel hopefully, but she blushed and


said, "Um…sh-she's right." He pouted, so she patted
his arm and said, "I'm sure you'll get the next one.
What's my favorite slushie flavor?"

"Grape." Puck and Quinn said it almost at the same


time.

Rachel glanced at Tina uncertainly. "Who do you


think?"

"Um…I-I think Quinn was a little faster," she said


slowly.
"Damn."

Rachel sighed. "Okay. What is my favorite flavor of lip


gloss?"

Finn said, "Grape," just as Quinn said, "Cherry


Bomb."

Everyone waited, looking between the three of them


with wide eyes. This was just awkward. Rachel met
Finn's angry eyes and slowly, hesitantly gestured to
Quinn. Tina jotted down the point.

"What is the paperweight on my desk?" Rachel looked


anxiously at Quinn, but she didn't look up from her
toes.

"Oh, that 'Best Smile' Award from the fifth grade,"


Puck said, nodding.

Rachel's eyebrows raised, and Finn demanded, "How


did you know that?"

"Well, we almost did it against it, and I tend to take


inventory of my surroundings. I didn't want to goose
her on the thing," Puck said defensively.

Finn glared at him.

"Enough with the sexcapades of Puck and Rachel,"


Quinn snapped.

"Yes, please," Santana added, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, moving on. What's my favorite song?"

"'Don't Rain On My Parade'," Finn said eagerly,


grinning.

Rachel winced.

"It's 'My Favorite Things'," Quinn said.

"It is not. Why would she pick 'Don't Rain' at


Sectionals if it's not her favorite?" Finn asked
brusquely.

"Because she loves Barbra Streisand, and 'My


Favorite Things' wouldn't have gotten us a win," she
replied calmly. "However, it does help her personally.
It motivates her to keep going when people are
bringing her down."

Rachel gaped for so long Tina had to poke her with


the pen, and then she only squeaked. Everyone
stared at her in concern, and then she cleared her
throat.

"I…right. I, um, anyway. What's—"

"Was that right?" Tina asked.


"Yes, yes, it was. Anyway. What's my favorite book?"

"Is it 'The Phantom of the Opera'?" Finn asked. "That


has singing in it."

Quinn sighed. "It's 'Gone With the Wind.'"

"But that's about the Civil War, isn't it?"

"And you think Rachel's entire life revolves around


singing?"

"…Kinda."

Rachel looked offended, but Quinn said something


before she could.

"Well, it doesn't. She loves that book, because she


can relate to the main character's struggle for survival.
She can also appreciate the hard relationship Scarlett
has with Rhett."

"This is creepy," Artie muttered, and the others


nodded in agreement.

"Next question," Rachel squeaked, and Tina assumed


it was right this time. "What soap scent do I use?"

She glanced at Finn, but he looked completely


dumbfounded.
"Cinnamon in the winter, and then you switch to
vanilla on the first day of spring," Quinn said, still
working on her toes.

"How do you know this stuff?" Puck asked.

Quinn shrugged.

"Okay, last question. Thank God," Rachel mumbled.


"What's my rabbi's name?"

"Oh, Rabbi Moskowitz?" Finn asked eagerly. "That's


Jewish, right?"

"Were you born this stupid, or do you practice?"


Quinn retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hey! Just because I don't know doesn't mean I'm


stupid," he growled.

"It doesn't mean you're smart."

"Just because I don't stalk Rachel—"

"You don't have to. If you would listen to a word that


comes out of her mouth, you might actually absorb
some of it. Being her boyfriend, I'd expect that to
come naturally, but I guess not."

"Well…she says a lot. I can't help it if I miss some of


it!"

"Some of it? You haven't gotten one right."

"That's not true! I knew about her…life goals."

"Figgins knows her life goals."

"Well, I don't hear you answering this one!"

"Rabbi Greenburg," she said simply.

He scoffed. "You don't know what you're talking


about. That's not even Jewish."

"Obviously, I do, since I've owned this game from the


start."

"Well, you're wrong!"

"No, I'm not."

"You are, too! An-and you have morning breath. Also,


I don't like your hair." Finn promptly pouted.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're a sore loser."

"You're annoying!"

"You define the word."


"Go to hell!"

"WHOA! Okay, everyone needs to just…calm down


here, all right?" Puck shook his head, pushing Finn
back down into his seat. "Finn, just because you lost
to Quinn in such a tremendous way it's pathetic, does
not mean she should go to hell. Quinn…you're a little
frightening sometimes."

She shrugged.

"I don't think we should play this game anymore," Kurt


said timidly.

"And further, I don't think Finn and Quinn should be


allowed to play 'How Much Do You Know About
Rachel.' Ever, ever again," Mercedes added.

"At least not with each other," Santana agreed.

"Fine," Finn growled.

"Fine," Quinn said.

Rachel retreated back to her spot between Finn's


legs, and Tina plopped down next to Artie again.
Quinn blew on her toenails.

"I'm bored."

XXXXXX
A/N: Let me know if you'd like to see more. :)

Musical Chairs

"I'm still bored."

"We know. Shut up," Santana hissed.

"We need a new game," Mercedes said.

Finn was still pouting, and Rachel was too busy


wondering how Quinn Fabray had beaten everyone at
a game about her—without even trying—to come up
with another suggestion.

"What about 'Have You Ever'?" Kurt offered.

"That's a drinking game," Puck pointed out.

"So?"

"So even if there's a drop of alcohol in Berry's house,


she won't be letting us get at it."

"We could use food," Tina suggested.

Puck groaned. "That completely takes the fun out of


it."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Santana reminded him.


"Well, even if we did use food, Mike ate all the
cookies, and the rest of Rachel's food is vegan chick
food that no one wants to eat."

"He has a valid point," Artie said, nodding.

"Thank you."

"Okay, fine." Kurt huffed. "Rachel, do you have any


board games that are not Monopoly or chess?"

Silence.

"Rachel?" he prodded.

"Huh? Oh…games? Um, we don't play a lot of board


games around here. I have a few Scene Its."

"Oh, that might be fun," Mercedes said. "What


versions do you have?"

"Uh—"

"We can't play that. Brittany always loses," Santana


cut in, shaking her head.

There was a collective sigh.

"…Karaoke?" Kurt said tentatively.


"No!" six of them said at once.

"Well, someone else come up with something then,"


he said irritably. "I'm out of ideas."

Mercedes patted his hand.

"What about musical chairs?" Mike suggested,


bouncing in his chair.

"Are we five?" Puck asked.

"Artie can't play that," Tina added.

"Oh, it's cool. I could control the music," he said


agreeably.

"That sounds fun," Brittany said, and when Santana


narrowed her eyes at them, they groaned.

"I don't think I have enough chairs for everyone to


play…" Rachel said, in a last-ditch effort to get out of
it.

Santana glared. Thankfully, Mercedes decided to


save Rachel from a slow, painful death.

"That's cool. Kurt and I can be the referees," she


supplied. Kurt grinned at her. "That should leave
enough, right?"
Rachel did the math. Damn it. Quinn sighed when she
saw the diva's resigned look. Damn it, indeed.

"If we use my computer chair," Rachel sighed.

Puck leapt up. "I'll get it!"

"No! No way are you going in my room. Finn, would


you please?"

"Fine," he grumbled.

Puck scowled. "Why do you trust him to do it?"

"Because he won't steal my underwear."

"Again, with the gross!" Quinn exclaimed.

"I'm not arguing with you," Rachel said.

There was an awkward pause.

"Noah, would you please go get the other chairs from


the dining room?" She even batted her eyelashes.

"Oh, fine," he growled, dragging Matt behind him.

XXXXXX

"Rachel, is every CD in your house something from


Broadway?" Artie asked, shuffling through CDs.
"Of course not. My tastes in music aren't that limited. I
have a few Celine Dion—"

Kurt perked up, but everyone else shouted, "No!" He


drooped.

Rachel sighed. "As I was saying, I also have The All-


American Rejects, The Supremes, Madonna, Lady
Gaga—"

"This could go on for a while," Kurt said.

"Hey, you also have 3OH!3, don't you?" Puck asked.

Rachel turned red. "No."

"You do, too, I've seen it!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You were


looking for good humping music and just happened to
stumble across it while digging through her drawers,
also with the ulterior motives of finding a condom and
stealing a nice thong."

"I don't have thongs," Rachel mumbled.

"That's actually not true," Puck said. "I picked her up


from her ballet class and she was doing a little extra
practicing to it." He grinned. "Sexy as hell, but she
wouldn't let me touch her while she was all sweaty."
"How much dating did you guys do while we weren't
looking?" Santana asked, nose wrinkled.

"Not much," they admitted simultaneously.

"This all happened in the space of about three days,"


Rachel confessed, glancing nervously at a red Finn.

"Damn, you move fast, Berry," Santana commented.

She cleared her throat. "Well, Noah is very convincing


in his persistent groping. It was either make out or be
molested while trying to film my nightly MySpace
video, and that's something I don't believe any of my
viewers need to see."

"I definitely, definitely don't," Quinn said.

Again, there was awkwardness to be had.

"Are we going to play soon?" Brittany whispered to


Santana.

She nodded to reassure her, and Puck said, "Who


votes for 3OH!3?"

The boys—even Kurt—raised their hands. Rachel


sighed when they cheered.

"You need a majority to win, you know," she said icily.


"Brittany, would you rather keep debating over what
song to use or play?" Puck asked abruptly.

"Play!" she said immediately. "This is boring!"

Santana narrowed her eyes. Puck grinned. Rachel


huffed.

"I'll go get it…" she grumbled.

XXXXXX

"Will you press pause already?" Puck scowled. "I'm


getting bored."

"You've been walking for two minutes," Mercedes


pointed out.

"And it's boring."

"He's right. This was a lame idea," Finn groused.


"OW! Jesus, Santana!"

"I'm going to have to protest you beating up my


boyfriend, Santana," Rachel said. "I've discovered
that he bruises fairly easily, and you aren't exactly a
weakling."

"Hey! She's not beating me up!" Finn protested.


"I punched you," Santana pointed out. "That counts."

"Only in the arm," he mumbled.

"We can throw down right here, if you want,


Finnessa."

"I'm not fighting you."

"'Fraid to get beat by a girl again?"

"Twice in one night would be pretty rough," Matt said.

Artie clicked pause before Finn could respond. They


scrambled, and Tina was the first one out.

"I'm never fast enough," she said good-naturedly.


Artie patted her knee.

Mercedes and Kurt pulled out another chair and Artie


clicked play again.

"I can't believe you have this CD," Mike said.

"Or, really, that you own anything related to 3OH!3 at


all," Matt agreed.

"They have a good beat," Rachel said defensively,


"and not all their songs are about…that. I don't think.
And just because I don't happen to display any
particular interest in sexually tinted things does not
mean I don't occasionally enjoy indulging in them.
Most of the time, however, I find this band extremely
offensive."

"You love them," Quinn said.

Rachel blushed.

"Quinn, you're really creepy tonight," Brittany


observed.

"I haven't had a chance to be 'creepy' any other


night," she replied.

Only Brittany and Quinn seemed to get that one.

"I'm having flashbacks to the fifth grade." Santana


sighed.

"At least now you have boobs," Puck said.

"That's only a benefit to you."

"And me."

"And Brittany."

Artie clicked pause. There was a brief tussle between


Mike and Matt before the latter finally got squeezed
out and went to pout on the couch.
"Whose idea was this again?" Finn asked.

"Mike's," Rachel answered.

"Must you remember every little thing?" Mike


demanded, frowning.

She shrugged.

"Bro? Lame idea," Finn told him. "OW!"

Santana scowled. "Quinn, Rachel. You've both dated


this moron for longer than two dates. Does he learn
new tricks?"

They shook their heads and said concurrently, "No."

"Hey! I did learn n—stuff! Didn't I learn you're allergic


to lilies?" Finn asked pointedly.

"I'll give you that," Quinn said grudgingly.

There was a lull.

"But you still don't know anything about Rachel."

"Okay, that's—"

Artie hit pause. Finn was fuming, and he marched


over to the spot next to Matt with a huff.
"She distracted me," he mumbled in quiet protest.

"Still, you didn't even try to sit," Kurt pointed out. "That
means you're out."

The music started up again.

"This music does kind of make you feel like dancing,"


Mike said. "But I still don't see it going with ballet."

Puck grinned. "She probably practices freak-dancing


to it."

"I do not!" Rachel squeaked indignantly.

"Puck, you saw her. Shouldn't you know how she was
dancing?" Santana asked.

"I was a little focused on her ass," he said. "OW!


Quinn, what the hell? My baby mama is turning on
me. OW! The women are getting violent in here!"

"San, you've 'dated' this moron longer than it takes to


recover from drinking several wine coolers. Does he
learn new tricks?" Quinn asked sardonically.

Santana shook her head. "No."

"Hey, our sex was great!" Puck exclaimed. "And you


thought so, too! You don't moan like that because you
sorta, kinda might like it a little bit."
"You know, most women fake it at one time or
another," Rachel said helpfully.

"She did not fake it!" he bellowed. "No one fakes it


with Puckzilla!"

"How do you know?"

"Uh—"

"San, Brit, ever faked it under Puck?" Quinn asked


casually. Both nodded. "There you go."

He looked too outraged to comment. Artie hit pause


and they ran for seats. Santana and Puck got into a
shoving match until the cheerleader stepped on his
toe. He went limping to the sidelines.

"That was cheating," he protested.

"All the same, the injury has put you out of


commission," Kurt said.

"Mercedes?" Puck growled.

"The judges are unanimous."

He sighed.

"I feel so alone," Mike said when they started walking


again.

Brittany patted him.

"Girls are just more agile than boys," Rachel said.

"So you won't be alone for long," Quinn added.

"Are you sure it's agility?" Santana asked. "I think it's
because you're short. You can maneuver yourself
easier."

Rachel sighed. "My shortness only helps with people


as tall as Finn. I can duck under his arms."

"How does that work when you guys are doing it?"
Brittany asked curiously.

"He must eat pillow a lot," Santana commented.

"We do not do it!" Rachel screeched.

"And yet, the mental images remain," Quinn said


thoughtfully. "Ew."

"For your information, the furthest base we've been to


is—"

Santana huffed. "Artie, please hit pause so she shuts


up."
He obeyed, and Mike was the one left standing after
Rachel swept around him.

"See, Shorty? I was right."

"That had nothing to do with my height, Santana."

"Sure it did. You were below his range of vision. You


swept under the radar."

"I'm not even that short! I'm only five foot two!"

"Yes. Only."

Rachel fumed.

"San, I think you made her mad," Brittany observed.

"Oops."

"I wouldn't be so nonchalant. I don't think you really


want to throw down with Berry," Quinn said.

Santana scoffed. "And why not?"

"Well, for one thing, you just pointed out that she's
short. Not to mention, fast. It's kind of like trying to
battle the Road Runner. You can keep trying, but he
just keeps getting away."

Brittany giggled. "Can you make that noise?"


Rachel frowned. "What noise?"

"You know…'meep-meep'?"

"Um…I don't think so. Sorry."

Brittany drooped.

"She can make other noises, though," Puck


commented.

"Noah!"

Artie hit pause. Quinn and Rachel scurried into their


chairs, and Santana walked to the side with everyone
else.

"Aw, San, you didn't have to give up," Brittany pouted.

"It's okay, B. I'll kick ass in the next game." Santana


winked.

Brittany brightened, and Artie hit play.

"Is anyone else getting bored?" Finn asked.

"Puck probably is," Quinn replied.

"Yeeep."
"We could stop," Kurt offered.

"But no one has won yet," Rachel pointed out,


confused. "I thought the point of playing games was to
reach a conclusive ending with a clear winner."

There was another collective sigh.

"What does everyone want to play after this?"


Mercedes asked.

"Hangman?" Matt suggested.

"That's a two-person game," Tina said.

"Apparently Matt doesn't remember how well our last


two-person game went," Santana said, rolling her
eyes.

He scowled.

"We could play Pictionary," Artie proposed.

"Rachel doesn't have that," Kurt said.

Artie frowned. "What is wrong with you?"

Rachel blushed. "Nothing! We just don't happen to


have a lot of time for board games around here. And
why does every conversation have to come back to
me tonight?"
"Well, we are in your house," Mercedes said
pointedly.

"Rachel's right. We should stop talking about her


before Quinn gets more material to write in her diary,"
Finn said sarcastically.

"Do you want to go? Because I will take you down,


Hudson," Quinn snarled.

"Down to Chinatown. And not for egg rolls, if you


know what I mean," Artie muttered. Tina giggled.

He hit pause, and Rachel and Quinn plopped into


their chairs. Brittany bounced to her spot next to
Santana.

"I suppose you're going to make us keep going," Kurt


said, frowning at Rachel.

"If you guys don't want to know who the musical chair
winner is, fine," she said, folding her arms.

They sighed and Artie hit play again.

"I thought you were supposed to run in the last


round," Puck said.

"I don't feel like it," Quinn retorted.


"Besides, it's not written anywhere. We're just saving
our energy for when we most need it," Rachel said,
nodding superiorly.

There was silence for a moment.

"You know who the best superhero of all time is?"


Puck asked.

The girls tuned the impending argument out. Rachel


shifted her circle tighter to the chair; Quinn mimicked
the movement.

"Quinn?" Rachel prompted softly.

"Rachel?"

"How did you know the answers to all of those


questions?"

"I discovered a few months ago that, much to my


dismay, I actually listen when you talk."

"Wow."

"I know. I almost had an identity crisis."

"No, I meant 'wow' that you managed to subtly insult


me while admitting to that."

"I'm talented."
"I know." Rachel frowned. "How did you know about
the lip gloss and soap, though? I don't talk to people
about that sort of thing. I don't think."

"I have eyes." Rachel arched a brow. Quinn sighed.


"You pull that Cherry Bomb lip gloss out of your
pocket every day before glee."

"And the soap?"

"I may have broken into your house and dug through
your personal things."

She gaped. "What?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding."

"You're not good at that."

"I'll work on it."

"Seriously, how did you know?" she prodded.

Quinn sighed. "Remember that day Matt accidentally


hit you in the head with the football and we had to
take you to the hospital because you passed out?"

"Vaguely."

"I…had to sit with you and when you woke up, I told
you that you smelled interesting or something like
that. You explained it to me and went back to sleep.
End of story."

Rachel frowned. "Oh. But how did you—"

Artie clicked pause and they both lunged for the chair.
Both were half-sitting on it, trying to scoot the other
off.

"Yes! Girl fight! Finally, something interesting is


happening!" Puck exclaimed.

Everyone started shouting and clapping, egging them


on.

XXXXXX

"You two are both really strong," Kurt decided.

"Neither of you has moved an inch," Mercedes


agreed.

"Maybe we need to solve this another way," he


suggested. "Like…you could do a sing-off."

"No freaking way, Hummel," Quinn growled.

"Oh! Mud-wrestling!" Puck exclaimed, grinning and


high-fiving Mike.
"NO!" Quinn and Rachel shouted simultaneously.

"Fine. Be boring."

"What if you just tried again?" Santana offered,


sounding bored.

"Ladies?" Kurt asked.

"Fine," Quinn grumbled.

"Fine with me," Rachel agreed.

They finally broke apart and stood, sighing.

"Ready, girls?" Artie asked.

"Yes."

"Just do it."

He obeyed. The girls walked again, eyeing each other


warily. The others clapped and cheered from the
sides.

This time when Artie clicked pause, Quinn swung her


leg over the chair and Rachel jumped in just in front of
her. Kurt and Mercedes sighed. It was too close to
call who sat first.

"Well, judges?" Finn prompted. "Who won?"


"Both their asses are on the chair," Santana pointed
out. "They tied. Again."

"So we do it again," Rachel offered.

"I'm not doing it again," Quinn said.

Puck grinned. "That's what she said."

"I would hit you, but Berry is trapping me."

"You're the one who decided to straddle the chair,


instead of sitting in it like a normal person."

"It was easier from where I was."

"Well, I guess this game is over," Tina said,


shrugging. "What next?"

"It's not over," Rachel protested. "We're both still on


the chair. You can't just end it with a tie."

"Yes, you can. That's why they have 'ties.' So you can
have them," Mercedes replied.

"The first one to get up is the loser," Quinn cut in.


"How about that?"

Rachel considered it. "Okay. But you are probably


going to lose, just so you know. I can go hours without
water."

"Well, I'm the one in the back."

"So?"

"So I can do this."

Quinn tickled her sides and Rachel shrieked.

"This is fun," Puck said happily.

"Well, now I'm bored. And I'm pretty sure Brit is, too.
Right, B?" Santana asked.

"Very bored."

"So? What next?"

Twister

"It needs to be something Rachel and Quinn can play


without moving," Kurt pondered.

"They're playing their own game," Santana said


dismissively.

"Yeah, but eventually they're going to get bored just


sitting there," Mercedes said sympathetically.

"Then get off the damn chair."


"We can play a board game if someone moves our
pieces," Rachel offered.

"But you don't have any board games besides chess,


Monopoly, and Scene It," Artie said.

"And no one wants to play Monopoly with twelve


people," Tina added.

"There wouldn't be any money left," Mike agreed.

"I still think Hangman is a viable option," Matt said.

"Again, there are twelve people here. We can't play a


two-person game with twelve people," Santana
growled.

"Maybe everyone could get turns guessing," Puck


suggested, shrugging.

"That completely destroys the point of the game,"


Mercedes said, shaking her head.

"No one would win," Kurt agreed.

Quinn and Rachel tuned out the argument again.


Rachel shivered.

"What are you doing back there?" she hissed.


Quinn shrugged. "Writing on your back. I didn't know
you weren't wearing a bra. The argyle must distract
from it."

Rachel blushed. "Yes, well, when I get home, I like to


relax. …What are you writing anyway? Was that a
heart?"

"Yes. But I can't decide what I heart."

"You could heart glee."

"Hm. Okay."

Rachel felt Quinn swipe the 'g' and the 'l' with her
finger before she realized someone had asked her
something.

"Sorry, what?"

"Do. You. Have. Cards?" Kurt repeated impatiently.

"I do, but what would we play?"

"Go Fish," Brittany said.

"Poker," Puck suggested.

"B.S.," Santana offered.

"Hearts," Matt added.


"Euchre," Mike tacked on.

"Bridge," Mercedes said.

"First of all, most of those games require a total of


four people, or less. Second, I don't have any poker
chips, and as Noah pointed out earlier, we can't use
food because no one would want to eat it but me. And
I'm sorry, Brittany, but I think Go Fish would be rather
difficult for Quinn and I to play at the moment," Rachel
said apologetically.

"Although this position would make it easier for me to


cheat," Quinn pointed out.

"Back to square one," Finn said, sighing.

"You cheat at Go Fish?" Rachel was aghast.

Quinn laughed. Rachel shivered.

"What about Twister?" Tina suggested tentatively.

Puck grinned. "Marry me."

She gaped. "What?"

"On second thought, don't. You can't chain me down.


Still, you're a goddess for picking that game."
Tina blushed. Artie glared at him.

"Do you even have that?" Kurt asked, sighing.

"In the upstairs closet on the second shelf in the far


back," Rachel recited.

Finn lumbered to go get it.

"But Artie can't play it, and I don't think everyone will
fit on the mat," she said uncertainly.

"You two can't participate anyway," Mercedes pointed


out. "You guys can work the spinner."

"It doesn't take three people to spin a plastic arrow."

"I could check to make sure no one's knees or elbows


are touching the mat," Artie offered.

"And I can make sure you're calling the shots right,"


Quinn said.

Rachel frowned. "And if you believe I'm not?"

Quinn tickled up her sides again and Rachel batted


her hands away, squealing.

"And you thought the slushies were bad," Kurt


commented.
"All right, found it," Finn announced, carrying the box
to the middle of the room.

"Did you know that Twister was actually extremely


controversial when it was first released?" Rachel
asked. Everyone groaned. "No, seriously. People
thought the company was selling 'sex in a box.'"

"I don't think two people could fit in that box," Brittany
said, eyeing it.

"It was one of the first games to use human pieces,"


Rachel continued.

"It would be hard to have sex in a box," Matt said


suddenly.

"Damn near impossible," Puck agreed.

Mike frowned in thought. "Maybe if you had one of


those big moving boxes for like a refrigerator."

"You three are appalling," Rachel said sagely.

"I think I'm offended," Matt said, and Mike nodded.

Puck scowled. "Why?"

"Well, do you ever think about anything other than


sex?"
Crickets.

"I thought about sex the other day," Mercedes said


abruptly.

"Me, too. But then I had a math test," Tina said


wistfully.

"That'll do it."

"You should get pregnant," Quinn said wryly. "You will


never stop thinking about it. And if you do, you'll be
thinking about food."

"Hold on a minute. I thought you said girls want sex


just as much as guys do," Finn said, drooping.

"That doesn't mean we think about it twenty-four


seven," Rachel replied.

"Are we ready yet?" Santana asked impatiently.

"We have been. Almost since Finn got here with it,"
Kurt said.

"Fine, let's do this."

"Spinner, please," Rachel said.

Finn handed it over and they lined up around the mat.


"Are we going alphabetically?" Tina asked curiously.

Rachel glanced back at Quinn, who shrugged.

"Sure." She spun. "Brittany, right foot, blue."

XXXXXX

"I love this game," Puck said happily, behind Santana.

"I can really tell," Santana replied, scowling. "Rachel,


if you don't get me the hell out of this position, I will
drag you out of that damn chair."

"Just wait, and I'll do my best. It's Mike's turn." She


spun again. "Okay, left hand red."

"I officially hate this game," Kurt groaned. "You need


to use deodorant. And also? Someone needs to fall
already!"

"We've made a giant pretzel," Mercedes observed,


leg over Finn's arm.

"An orgy pretzel," Brittany added from under Santana.

"At least no one's naked," Finn said, wincing at Matt's


ankle.

"That would be awkward," he agreed.


"And hot," Puck said, grinning.

Everyone stared at him.

"But only if it was the girls!" he exclaimed. "God!"

"Methinks the man whore doth protest too much,"


Quinn said, smirking.

Puck glared. "You getting tired over there, Quinn?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you just look so exhausted resting on Rachel's


shoulder like that."

She shot up and Rachel frowned.

"I'm not tired," Quinn snapped.

"Uh huh."

"If you two are done subtexting, could we please


move on before my wrist breaks?" Kurt asked.
"Please?"

Rachel sighed. "Right. Santana, left hand green."

"That is impossible."

She promptly fell, taking Brittany with her.


"See?" They squirmed out of the pile to the sidelines.

"Sorry. The spinner goes where it pleases."

"It might be more fun if you were diabolical and


shouted out instructions that would make them fall,"
Artie said.

They stared at him.

"Or, you know, this way is fun, too."

"Anyway…. Tina, left hand yellow."

"You know, I do use deodorant," Mike muttered.

"What brand?" Kurt asked.

"Axe."

"Oh, no, no, no. No," Mercedes said, shaking her


head.

"Finn, right hand yellow."

"Thank you."

"What's wrong with Axe?" Mike asked defensively.

"You know how in the commercials the women can't


stop fawning over and-or eating him?" Santana
retorted.

"Yeah…."

"That's pretty much the exact opposite of what


actually happens."

"That's why I had to switch," Puck said, nodding. "It


was killing my game."

"And it helped that I threatened to spray you in the


eyes with my perfume if you didn't switch."

"That, too."

"Kurt, left hand red."

"Whew. Escape from the smell."

"So what do you guys suggest?" Mike asked. "Like,


what's a good scent or whatever?"

Quinn sighed absently. "Cinnamon and vanilla."

There was an awkward pause.

She cleared her throat. "Or…Old Spice?"

"Matt, your elbow is touching the mat!" Artie


exclaimed triumphantly.
They all stared at him again.

"What?" He looked at Tina. "Did I miss something?"

"Quinn's just getting sleepy over there again," Puck


commented.

"You know, if the spinner lands on right hand yellow


for you, you'll be in your favorite position," Quinn
growled.

He glanced down at Kurt. "Point taken. Lips are


zipped."

"Good."

"I still feel like I'm missing something," Artie said,


frowning.

"You're not the only one," Rachel assured him. "But


Quinn, I'm flattered that you like my soap scents,
since you don't seem to like anything else I do as far
as feminizing myself goes."

"You are stupid," Santana said flatly, and Quinn


glared at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Spin, woman, spin!" Kurt yelped.


"Finn," Rachel whined, and he blinked.

"What? Oh! Hey, Santana, don't call my girlfriend


stupid."

"You are, too."

"Hey!"

"As soon as we're done with this game, I'm taking


spinning rights away from you, Berry," Kurt muttered.

"Oh, sorry, Kurt. Mercedes, right foot green."

"Yeah, baby." Puck grinned.

"You're not even in a good viewing area, and I'm


wearing pants," she pointed out, frowning at him.

"I have a good imagination."

"He does. He called me 'Leia' when we used to do it,"


Brittany said, nodding sagely.

He turned red when everyone stared at him.

"Not from 'Star Wars.' Just some…hot chick I dated


this one time."

"You have a 'Star Wars' fetish," Mercedes taunted,


grinning.

"Hey, Brit, did he make you dress up, too?" Mike


asked, giggling.

"He gave me this gold bikini once. I still have it. San
and I use it for bondage."

There was another awkward silence, and Rachel


glanced back at Quinn before clearing her throat.

"Puck has a 'Star Wars' fetish," Matt chanted, and


they all joined in.

"Shut up! She is hot, okay? I don't like the actual


movie," Puck growled. "I am so kicking you guys's
asses when we're done with this game."

"Speaking of which, spin the stinking arrow, Rachel!"


Kurt interrupted. "I am going to die."

"If it hurts that bad, just drop, dude," Finn suggested.


"It's no big deal."

"Mike, right foot blue," Rachel said.

He ended up taking Tina and Kurt out with him.

"Thank you," Kurt said, plopping next to Brittany.

"Sweet. Now all we gotta do is get rid of Finn, babe,"


Puck said, waggling his eyebrows at Mercedes.

"I really thought you were done being into me," she
replied.

"Puck is never done being into anything female,"


Quinn pointed out. "Except, of course, if you kick him
in the crotch."

Mercedes grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

Puck glowered. "Getting tired again, Quinn?"

She opened her mouth, but Rachel said, "Would you


stop saying that to her? Every time you do, she sits
up, and she's being my blanket. Do you want me to
be cold?"

Finn frowned in confusion. Puck grinned.

"'Course not, babe. But I think maybe she should


cuddle up closer in that case. You're looking pretty
nippy to me."

She turned crimson. "Puck, left hand green."

"Aw, come on, that's just cruel."

"Sorry, the spinner calls the shots."

"You're just—oof!"
"And you're out," Artie said, smiling.

"Why don't you get yourself a cookie or something,


Puck?" Quinn asked, smiling.

"Mike ate them all," he reminded her.

"Then I'll buy you one tomorrow," she replied.

"Down to you and Mercedes, Finn," Kurt said,


smirking. "Think you can handle it?"

"Bring it," he said, and everyone started cheering.

XXXXXX

Mercedes won. Finn ended up having to cross his


legs and his arms, which just didn't work out so well.

"That was fun," Kurt said with a sigh.

"You complained through half of it," Santana pointed


out.

He shrugged. "It was still fun."

"New game?" Tina asked quietly. "Or another round?"

"I think we should play Truth or Dare next," Puck said,


grinning. "Always save the best for last."
"Who says the next game is the last one?" Artie
asked.

"No one. That's why I'm saving Seven Minutes in


Heaven."

"You're strange," he said, shaking his head.

Puck shrugged. "What can I say? I'd like to get some


at this party."

"What if you end up in there with a guy?" Mercedes


asked.

He paled. "Maybe it should be opposite sex partners


only."

"That's not fair," Brittany said, pouting.

"Yeah, how am I supposed to get any with that rule?"


Santana growled.

"Okay, Quinn, you win!" Rachel squeaked, springing


out of the chair.

Everyone stared at her.

"I thought we should quit that silly game so we can


get in a round of Twister. After all, it's only fair that we
get to participate in one, since we did all the spinning
work. And perhaps Kurt and Mercedes wouldn't mind
being in charge of spinning this time, since she won
this round and Kurt's shoulder was about to go out,
would you guys mind?"

The staring continued.

"Um…I guess not."

"Great! Let's play!"

XXXXXX

"Rachel, right hand green," Mercedes said.

She paled. "What?"

"You heard her. Right hand green," Santana said,


grinning.

She, Quinn, Rachel, and Mike were the only ones left
on the mat. Rachel glared at her and moved. Right on
top of Quinn. She turned beet red.

"Okay, Santana, left foot blue," Kurt called out.

Quinn was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" Rachel hissed.

"You should see your face," she whispered back.


"Well, this position isn't exactly…."

"Mike, right hand blue," Mercedes said. He fell.

"You didn't mind so much with Finn," Quinn muttered.

"That's because he—never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"No, it's nothing important."

"Do I look like I have anything better to do?"

Rachel blushed harder.

"Quinn, right foot yellow," Kurt instructed.

She hooked her leg around Rachel's.

"Tell me," she sing-songed.

"It's nothing."

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't have said anything."


"Rachel, left foot yellow," Mercedes interrupted.

She crossed her legs and promptly fell flat on Quinn.


There was an awkward pause and she leapt up.

"Okay, Santana wins, who wants to play Truth or


Dare?" Rachel squeaked.

Quinn smirked.

Truth or Dare

"I'll put the game away," Finn said, folding it up.

"Thank you. Noah, why don't you start us off?" Rachel


asked, sitting between Tina and the arm of the couch.

"I thought you wanted to—"

"He can never think of questions," Santana


interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"Then why did you suggest it?" Mercedes asked.

"Because it's awesome."

"Well, you suggested it, so you start it," Rachel


ordered.

"Bu—"
"Now."

"Santana."

"Dare," she said smugly.

"Umm…."

XXXXXX

"This is the most boring game of Truth or Dare ever,"


Kurt commented, yawning.

"I don't think Puck should've started us off," Artie


agreed.

"Shut up! I'm thinking."

"You've been thinking for fifteen minutes. Come up


with something already, dude," Matt said.

"Okay, okay. Fine. Santana, I dare you to…eat the


turkey I saw in Rachel's fridge with any condiments
you can find in there," he said, nodding. "And if you
throw up afterward, it doesn't count."

"You have turkey?" Finn asked, frowning.

"It's my dad's. And a week old," she said.

Santana left, and they heard the microwave.


"I can't believe you let Quinn win," Tina said
eventually.

"She didn't win the Twister game," Rachel said,


confused.

"I mean the musical chair thing."

She turned red. "Oh. Well…I-I was getting bored of


that game. Besides, winning isn't everything."

Quinn smirked. The rest of them gaped. Santana


came back with her plate of ketchup-covered turkey
and they all watched in disgust as she wolfed it down.
She burped.

"Okay, Brit," she said.

"How did you do that? That was so gross," Mercedes


commented, grimacing.

"When you live on Coach Sylvester's diet, you learn to


repress your gag reflex."

"Dare!" Brittany said excitedly.

"I dare you to go without panties for the rest of the


party."

"Sweet!" Puck exclaimed, and Brittany went off to the


bathroom.

"I don't think I'm going with dare this game," Tina said
timidly.

Artie patted her. "Don't worry. None of us could be


that cruel to you."

She smiled. Brittany plopped next to Santana, smiling.

"Mike."

"Oh…truth," he said, shrugging.

"Wuss," Matt said. "OW! Why does everyone keep


hitting tonight?"

"The girls did it first," Mike pointed out.

"But they're girls. They—"

"Matt, I'm going to stop you right there before you say
something completely chauvinistic for which you will
have to be flogged and punished," Rachel said icily.

He paled.

Brittany huffed. "Excuse me? Okay, what is the worst


nightmare you have ever had?"

Mike frowned. "Consequences?"


"You have to…kiss Finn."

There was a collective "ew," and Finn shifted away


from her.

"Okay, the worst nightmare was…what you just said."


Mike grinned. "Just kidding, it's actually that I'm in this
really dark, empty warehouse, and this crazy vampire
clown with an axe is chasing me."

"Poor Mike," Tina empathized.

"Yeah, but the worst part is when I run into the


bathroom and Figgins is in the bathtub."

They all flinched.

"Dude, that is bad," Puck agreed, shaking his head.

"I know. Okay, so…who hasn't gone? Mercedes?"

"Oh, what the heck? Dare."

"Okay, I dare you to…Kurt, cover your ears."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Just do it, dude."

Kurt pouted, but obeyed. Mercedes frowned


apprehensively.

"I dare you to steal his daily moisturizer," Mike said


solemnly. "I saw it in his sleeping bag when he came
in."

She gasped. "I couldn't! Consequences!"

"Steal Rachel's Celine Dion CD."

Rachel squeaked indignantly and Mercedes got up to


grab the moisturizer from Kurt's sleeping bag.

"What are you doing? Hey, that's mine!" he yelped,


grabbing for it.

"He dared me to," Mercedes said accusingly.

Kurt was aghast. "Shame on you! Shame on both of


you! You should be ashamed of yourselves." And he
shook his head.

"Actually…your reaction is making it fun," she replied,


grinning. He glared at her. "Okay, Matt."

"Dare," he said, bouncing.

"Hmmm…okay, I've got it. Find Rachel's oldest CD


with the weirdest song and do an interpretive dance to
it wearing only your boxers and shirt."
"Dude, sweet!" Puck said, reaching to high-five her.

"That's awesome," Finn agreed, and Mercedes


smiled, pleased with herself.

Matt paled. "Um…consequences?"

"Oh, come on. Be a man," Santana growled.

He bolted up the stairs.

"Don't move anything!" Rachel yelled after him.

Matt returned and shucked off his jeans, stuck the CD


in, and skipped to the song 'Love Shack.' The girls
cat-called and wolf-whistled and sang along from the
sidelines while he danced; the guys howled with
laughter.

When he finished dancing in slow-mo, he sat and said


sagely, "I am not gay."

Mike patted him.

"Good God, don't anyone tell Mr. Schue about that,"


Puck said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Tina asked.

"He'll make us do it. Don't think I've forgotten about


the disco incident."
"You weren't even there when that happened," Rachel
pointed out.

"But I had to hear Finn whining and moaning about it,


and that's enough torture for me."

"Hey!" Finn exclaimed.

"Can I pick someone now?" Matt asked. "All right…


how about Artie?"

"As I think any dares could be detrimental to my


wheelchair's health, truth," he said.

"Oh. Uh…who is your favorite superhero?"

"Lame," Puck coughed.

"Green Lantern. Tina?"

"Truth," she said cheerfully.

"How many boys have you kissed?" he asked


suspiciously.

She laughed and pecked him on the lips. "One."

He smiled, satisfied.

"Okay…Kurt?"
He grinned. "Dare."

"Oh. Ummm…I dare you to…I can't think of anything."

Puck swiftly whispered in her ear and she blushed.

"I-I appreciate the suggestion, but—"

Rachel whispered in her ear from the other side.

"Oh. Okay, Kurt, I dare you to mess up your hair and


leave it that way until the end of this game," Tina said
mischievously.

He gaped, then glared, then slowly mussed it up, with


the hasty help of everyone sitting in his vicinity. Then
he folded his arms and pouted.

"I hate you both."

Tina frowned sadly and Rachel patted her.

"Okay, Rachel," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes.

"Truth."

"Excellent. Why did you let Quinn win?"

Quinn perked up and Rachel shifted nervously.


"…Consequences?"

"Fry and eat an egg."

She squeaked incoherently and Tina rubbed her arm


comfortingly.

"Fine. Bastard," Rachel muttered, then said louder,


"I…decided that…my butt hurt. From the chair."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Total lie. Go get the egg or I—"

"Okay, okay, fine!" She huffed and folded her arms,


pouting. "I hate you."

"I know. It's okay."

"She was giving me a massage because my back


hurt. And she…accidentally touched a…certain
favorite area of mine…that was mentioned. Earlier
this evening."

Finn glowered; Quinn smirked; Rachel squirmed


uncomfortably. And Kurt grinned smugly.

"Okay, so Finn," she said brightly.

"Uh…truth."

"Wuss," Puck said.


"I have put up with a lot of crap tonight, and I think I've
proved my manliness," Finn growled. "Truth."

"How many girlfriends have you had?" she asked


curiously.

"Uh…I…consequences?"

"As I said, wuss."

"You have to sing 'I Feel Pretty' in falsetto, while


wearing makeup," Rachel said simply.

"Damn!" Mercedes exclaimed, grinning. "Go, hot


mama!"

"You are good," Artie agreed, and Rachel grinned.

"Oh. Well, um…three officially," Finn said, clearing his


throat.

"What about Santana and Brittany?" she inquired.

"They weren't, um…technically they were dates," he


replied awkwardly.

"Or, in Santana's case, a one night stand," Puck said,


exchanging a grin with Mike.

Rachel frowned. "But they didn't have—"


Santana was shaking her head. Rachel stiffened,
refusing to look at Finn.

"I see."

"But it didn't mean anything!" Finn exclaimed. "I


swear, it really didn't, I was just—"

"Would you please address Quinn? She's the only


one who hasn't gone yet, I believe," Rachel said
curtly.

Finn drooped and turned to Quinn, who grinned at


him. He glared.

"Okay…Quinn?"

"Oh…dare," she said, shrugging.

He folded his arms. "I dare you to admit why you


know so much about Rachel."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Because I listen.


When. She. Talks. Can you get a grip and move on?"

"Please," Santana agreed, nodding.

"It's just sad, man," Puck added.

Finn promptly pouted.


"Well, that was pretty fun," Matt said. "Except for the
traumatizing parts."

"Quinn didn't get to dare anyone, though," Mercedes


pointed out. "Shouldn't she get a turn?"

"Thank you, Mercedes."

"No problem, girl."

"Rachel."

"Huh? Uh…truth?"

"What weren't you telling me during Twister?" Quinn


asked, smirking.

Rachel squirmed. "Consequences?"

"Donate more of your panties to the I'm Desperate For


Rachel Berry JewFro club."

"I think they prefer being called I'm Deaf," Santana


quipped.

"Can I at least whisper it to you?" Rachel asked


uncomfortably.

"I think I can allow that."

The brunette sank next to her and cupped her ear to


whisper. Everyone leaned in, trying to hear as Quinn's
smirk grew.

XXXXXX

"Before I tell you this, I am begging you not to make a


snide comment, because I honestly don't think I could
handle that from you right now." She sighed. "I was
going to say that I didn't mind it with Finn because
with him that position isn't arousing, as he does not
stir those feelings in me when we make out, let alone
when sex is referenced."

XXXXXX

Everyone was pouting when Rachel pulled back and


frowned at Quinn.

"Are you happy now?" she grumped.

Quinn grinned. "Very."

Rachel folded her arms while the rest of them waited,


and Kurt huffed first.

"Rachel, you have to go next," he reminded her.

"Ah, right." She frowned in thought, then narrowed her


eyes at Quinn. "Quinn."

"Truth."
"What really happened in the hospital when you found
out what I do with my soap scents?" she challenged.

Quinn glared and Rachel raised her chin.

"I'm whispering it in your ear," she said flatly.

"Fine with me."

The blonde leaned and the rest of them huffed.

XXXXXX

"I didn't have to sit with you. Everyone went to the


cafeteria; I stayed with you claiming I wasn't hungry.
You came to and asked what happened, I explained
that you passed out, you asked me to sit with you, I
did, I told you that you smelled amazing, you
explained what you do, and then you went back to
sleep. End of story."

XXXXXX

"Happy?"

"I would've preferred the utilization of a less


deprecating tone in your description, but yes, happy."

"Your turn, Quinn," Matt said, glancing at the others.


They waited on the edge of their seats while Quinn
frowned at Rachel.

"Rachel."

They sighed.

"Truth."

"Did you really sleep with Jesse St. James?"

"Of course she did," Finn blurted, scowling.

Quinn waited and Rachel shifted before mumbling,


"No."

"You lied to me?" he gasped.

"You lied to me! And yours was much worse!" she


snapped immediately. "At least I still have my
virginity!"

He grumbled and drooped again, sulking in his


armchair.

"Quinn," Rachel snapped.

"This is rapidly turning into a two-person game," Kurt


observed.

"Yeah, can someone else please have a turn?"


Santana growled. "Your lover's spat is boring."

"It's hot," Puck disagreed.

Rachel turned purple. "It's not a—"

"Pick. Someone. Else."

She glared. "Fine. Artie."

"I'll go with truth again," he said timidly.

"All right, um…how many…girls have you kissed?"


she asked, shrugging disinterestedly.

Tina perked up and Artie flushed red.

"Uh…just two. Okay, San—"

"Wait. Who else have you kissed?" Tina asked,


pouting.

"Well…Brittany," he admitted sheepishly. "She caught


me off-guard!"

"I had to maintain my perfect record," Brittany


explained. "But it was before you guys dated. And he
told me he liked you. So I gave him practice."

Tina was still drooping, but she seemed placated


when Artie patted her.
"Brittany, does that mean you've kissed everyone in
this room?" Mercedes asked curiously. "I mean,
except me, because I know you haven't done that."

"Let's see…." Brittany ran her gaze over the group.


"Everyone but you four." And she pointed to Quinn,
Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes.

"That's a little disturbing," Artie pointed out.

"So? I've kissed all but six," Santana said, shrugging.

"I've got one of you girls to go," Puck added, winking


at Tina, who Artie guarded.

"And how many of the guys?" Quinn asked.

He glared. "How about you, Quinn?"

"You know the two people in this room I've kissed.


You being one of them."

"Hey, we've both kissed the same people," Rachel


said suddenly.

"You just realized this?" Kurt asked, shaking his head.

She blushed. "Well, I never really thought about the


fact that Noah actually kissed her in order to get her
pregnant."
"I didn't. I—"

"That means you guys have practically made out,"


Brittany interrupted, eliciting a sigh of relief from
everyone.

"Who has?" Santana asked gently.

"Quinn and Rachel."

The former smirked; the latter squirmed.

"So, Artie, you were going to ask me. Dare," Santana


said nonchalantly.

"I dare you to…sing 'Marian the Librarian' to…Tina.


With a straight face," he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Easy."

She kneeled in front of Tina, who immediately started


giggling, and cleared her throat before belting out the
first verse. Tina giggled through the whole thing and
everyone else was snickering, but Santana never
even cracked a smile. Though they did fear it was
going to happen during the part about the moonlight
helping along.

Santana plopped next to Brittany when she was


finished. The blonde guarded her from Tina, who she
momentarily glared at.

"See? Easy. Okay, B, your turn."

"Dare!"

"I dare you to show everyone that routine you


memorized."

Everyone frowned in confusion, but Brittany frowned.

"But San…" she whined.

"No buts."

Brittany sighed and whispered in Rachel's ear. The


brunette giggled and ran up the stairs, popping in a
CD when she returned. Brittany took center stage and
proceeded to duplicate the entirety of the girl's
choreography from 'Push It.' Everyone was in stitches
by the end, and no one spoke for several minutes
because they were laughing too hard.

"Is it my turn to ask yet?" Brittany whispered to


Santana, after about two minutes.

She nodded, smirking.

"Puck," she said delightedly.

"Dare," he replied.
"Go sing to one of Rachel's neighbors."

"Uh…okay. Can I do it after the game?"

"No. You have to go, with your guitar, and sing them
that song you sang to Mercedes. And you can't tell
them you did it on a dare."

Santana grinned proudly and Puck sighed, grabbed


his guitar, and headed for the door.

"I'll go to make sure he actually does it," Matt said,


hopping up.

They all ran to the front door, cramming in to peer out


of it as Puck walked up to a door and knocked,
wincing the entire time. Matt shoved him back onto
the step when he tried to walk away, and they all
giggled when Puck raised his guitar and started
belting it.

They were cackling when the two boys ran for the
front porch and dove inside, panting.

"They threatened with the police!" Puck gasped, and


they all burst into fresh gales as they plopped into
their seats. "It's not funny!"

"Your neighbors are cranky, Berry," Matt commented.


"We almost got arrested!"

"You did not. They threaten to call the police all the
time, but they never do," Rachel replied, shaking her
head.

When everyone stared, she frowned.

"What?"

"You do that all the time, then?" Santana asked,


arching a brow.

"Oh! No, I just happen to have a very wide vocal


range and, at times—"

"Gotcha."

Puck sighed and flopped to the floor next to Finn, who


was back to pouting in his armchair.

"Dude…so not cool."

"You have to pick someone," Brittany said insistently.

"Gah…fine, Rachel?"

"I think I'll go with a dare this time," she said, smiling.

"You are a brave one," Kurt said in a pseudo-Yoda


voice.
She grinned.

"Umm…."

XXXXXX

"I have so got it!"

Everyone jumped and Santana groaned.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! This is perfect, all right?" Puck said,


grinning.

"Are you going to tell me so I can ask for


consequences?" Rachel asked.

"You won't need to." He snickered. "I dare you to kiss


Quinn. With tongue."

Both girls shot up, one suddenly smiling. Finn stared


at his best friend with wide eyes.

"Noah, why do you want to hurt me?" Rachel


demanded, aghast.

He frowned. "Huh?"

"I refuse to participate in a dare that will result in


personal injury, particularly to my nasal area," she
retorted, folding her arms haughtily. "Give me your
consequences."

"Go streaking in the park."

Her jaw dropped. "Noah!"

"Well? You either give me a lesbian kiss or get


naked," he said, shrugging.

"Well…y-you're…." She flapped her mouth open and


shut, trying to formulate words. "Your dare is against
the rules!"

"It is not," he said, affronted.

"It is, too! Technically, by daring me to successfully


make contact with her, you are daring Quinn to let
me. Therefore, she has the right to veto the dare if
she wishes," Rachel said superiorly, and turned to the
blonde expectantly.

Before Puck could ask, Quinn waved her hand


dismissively.

"I pass up on my right this time."

The brunette gaped. "You do?"

She grinned. "Hell, I just want to see if you can


stomach it."

Rachel scowled. "That's certainly incentive," she


grumbled, then turned back to Puck. "Doesn't Finn
have a right to veto? He is my boyfriend after all, and
he should be able to protest to a dare that would
basically constitute as cheating."

Finn rose up to do just that, but Puck shook his head.

"Nope. Meathead doesn't get a choice in the matter.


It's up to you, Berry. Kiss Quinn, or run naked."

The rest of them watched on interestedly, and


Santana grinned when Brittany bounced.

"Kiss, kiss!" she mock-whispered excitedly.

And everyone followed suit with a chant, except for


Finn and Quinn, one of whom was fuming. Rachel
squirmed uncomfortably, glancing uncertainly at
Quinn before she finally bellowed, "All right!" and put
a stop to the chanting.

She sighed and shifted toward the blonde, but


paused. They all groaned.

"Does everyone have to be watching?" she mewled.

"Aw, you got performance anxiety?" Santana taunted.


"Oh, she just doesn't want anyone to see her doing
something so vile," Kurt said with a shrug.

"Hey! I do not find the prospect of kissing an attractive


girl such as Quinn disgusting!" Rachel snapped, and
Quinn perked up a little. "I merely find it difficult to
believe that I will not be receiving a black eye when I
do so."

"God, you are such an idiot," Santana moaned, and


Brittany nodded sagely in agreement.

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Besides, making out


is not something I like to do with an audience,
particularly not in front of my boyfriend, even if I am
angry with him."

"You just think it's gross," Kurt said again, and


Mercedes caught on.

"Not that we can blame you. It would kind of be like


kissing JewFro," she teased, winking at Quinn.

Rachel bristled. "Do not compare Quinn to that insipid


little cretin! It's not even possible! How can you
possibly think his slimy, sticky, grabby hands measure
up to hers? And her hair is nothing if not gorgeous,
particularly when its down and in those adorable
curls! And another thing!"

Quinn was grinning by now, and Finn was frowning in


deep confusion.

"So you're saying she's not ugly?" Artie asked,


amused.

Rachel gasped. "Of course not! She's beautiful!"

"Prove it," Puck said, without missing a beat.

And Rachel fumed, seized Quinn by the back of the


neck, and kissed her.

XXXXXX

A/N: Yes, I know, I'm evil. (You know you love me. ;) )

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Quinn's eyes went wide with the surprise of it, but


they fluttered closed in short order and soon she and
Rachel were kissing expertly.

"Finally," Santana grumbled, and Finn shot a glare at


her.

All attention went back to the kissing girls when a little


moan was heard, and it was soon evident that
tongues had become involved. Quinn's hands
hovered by Rachel's neck, but when the latter dove in
more aggressively, pressing her back against the
couch, they started to travel down her shoulders and
sides. Finn cleared his throat when they'd been
making out long enough to fulfill the dare.

"Okay…" he said quietly.

"Shh," Puck hissed, waving a hand at him to shut him


up.

A few eyebrows shot up when Rachel pulled back


long enough to attack Quinn's mouth from the other
side and the blonde's hands started stroking at her
ribs, just beneath her breasts. The brunette's hands
stayed up at Quinn's neck, fisting in her hair and
keeping her in place, though it was quite obvious to
everyone else that she wasn't going anywhere
anytime soon.

"It's like watching free porn," Santana commented.

"Except we know the actors," Artie replied, frowning.


"Does anyone else find this a little disturbing?"

Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt nodded.

"Glad it's not just me."

Brittany tapped Quinn on the shoulder. "Q, Rachel's


kissing you!" she said excitedly.

One hazel eye opened and Quinn detached a hand to


give her a thumbs-up, and then went back to
business.

"Is it good?" Brittany asked after a moment.

Santana patted her thigh. "I don't think she can


answer you right now, B."

"Oh." She tapped Quinn again. "You can tell me


after."

Quinn just gave her another thumbs-up. Rachel


seemed completely unaware that anything was going
on outside of Quinn's mouth.

"Okay, I think that's enough," Finn said uncomfortably.


"You guys can stop now."

"Shut up, dude," Puck snapped. "You're ruining it."

"That's my girlfriend!"

"I don't think she is anymore," Mike said, shaking his


head.

"Particularly considering how much saliva they've


exchanged in the past few minutes," Kurt agreed.

Finn gaped at him.

"Quick, somebody go get the cooking oil!" Puck


exclaimed. "We can pour it on them and—"
"Ugh, would you all shut up?" Rachel suddenly
snarled, glaring them down. "I do not appreciate
distractions when I am trying to—"

"Trying to what, Rachel?" Finn asked sharply, tapping


his fingers on the arm of his chair.

She froze, turning several different shades of red


while she tried to answer. The rest of them quickly got
bored with the stare-down.

"Rachel's a very good kisser," Brittany told Santana


sagely. "Quinn can't stop smiling now."

Santana nodded. "I see that. Be careful your face


doesn't get stuck that way, Q."

Quinn wiped her mouth, but that smile was not going
anywhere. Rachel looked at her and stroked the
blonde's hair back into place, blushing fiercely.

"Sorry for violating you," she muttered, and Santana


groaned. "And thank you for not hitting me."

"Okay, Berry, that's it," she barked. "You are clearly


an idiot when it comes to this, so let me break down
for you what the rest of us have gotten since 'How
Much Do You Know About.'" Rachel stared. "Quinn.
Wants. To f—"
"Santana!" Tina yelped.

"—k you."

"San!" Quinn snapped. "What the hell?"

"What? You didn't have the balls to say it yourself,"


she retorted. "And I'm sick of you two making googly
eyes at each other. It's disgusting."

Quinn glowered at her. Rachel was gaping at the


Latina, who arched a brow back. And Finn glared
some more.

"I think you broke her," Brittany whispered. Santana


shrugged.

"Who's up for Seven Minutes in Heaven?" Rachel


asked abruptly, moving to sit next to Quinn. "We can
use the coat closet."

"I am definitely up—" Puck paused, leering "—for


that."

There was a collective eye-roll. Except for Quinn, who


was trying to fight off a smirk. And Kurt, who was
frantically smoothing his hair back down.

"Uh, Rach, you don't think we need to talk about what


just happened here?" Finn asked, gesturing with an
expression of disgust.
"About Quinn and I participating in a dare? Not
particularly."

"But you just—"

"If you have something to say to me, then you can say
it if we're paired up for Seven Minutes in Heaven. I
know I plan to."

The rest of them grinned, and let out a joint, "oooh."

"Burn," Matt said, grinning.

"Well? The notebook and pen from the first game is


still down here. Everyone write your name on a slip of
paper, and we can stick them in the popcorn bowl,"
Rachel ordered.

Mercedes grabbed it first, tearing out a slip and


folding her name up. They passed it around until all
the slips were gathered, and then Rachel started
stirring the names in the bowl. With her left hand,
since she was currently wheedling her right into
Quinn's.

"Hey, hold up. Does anyone have a stopwatch?" Matt


asked.

"I have one built into my watch," Artie said.


"Cool!"

"Dude…your watch has one built in, too," Mike


pointed out, showing him.

"Oh, dude! Sweet!"

"Who's going first?" Rachel asked.

"I thought it was tradition for the host or hostess to


draw the first name," Kurt said.

"Well, it's my party, so I can ignore tradition if I want.


Who's. Going. First?"

"How about we go alphabetically?" Mercedes


suggested.

"By first or last name?" Tina asked.

They all glanced at Brittany, who smiled obliviously.

"First," Rachel said. "Here you go, Artie." She held out
the bowl to him.

"What if you draw your own name?" Puck asked.

"That shouldn't be a problem for you," Santana


replied.

He glared at her.
"You just put it back in and try again," Mercedes said,
trying not to grin.

"Uh…I got Puck," Artie said, looking a little green.

There were snickers around the room.

"Dude, that's sick. I'm not doing that," Puck said


stubbornly, shaking his head.

"Noah, you don't actually have to do anything sexual,"


Rachel soothed, shaking her head. "That's why it's
anything you want in a closet for seven minutes, just
so long as there's physical contact."

"Do we have blindfolds?" Kurt asked.

"Yes. Finn, would you mind looking in my dresser,


second row of drawers, first one? There are some
scarves in there that should do."

He glared at her.

"What?" She huffed. "Fine, I'll ask Matt to do it."

"Why can't you do it?" Finn grumbled.

"Because I am holding the name slash popcorn bowl,"


she snapped.
"And Quinn's hand," Brittany added, nodding.

"Right. And I can't just abandon the bowl. You might


cheat while I'm gone. Now, Matt, could you please get
those scarves for me?"

Quinn smirked and Matt hurried up the stairs.

XXXXXX

"In you go, sirs," Kurt said, giving Puck a last shove.

The girls cat-called and Puck scowled.

"Don't have too much fun in there."

They shut the door, and Santana and Brittany


whispered, likely concocting a plan to get each other
when their turns came around. Mike reluctantly
participated in a makeover for Tina when Finn refused
to do anything but glare at Quinn and Rachel, who
were just innocently sitting there, waiting for the seven
minutes to be up.

Although there may have been heated glances. And


more hand-holding, too.

XXXXXX

At five minutes, Kurt was getting impatient. Mercedes


made him wait, and they all counted down the
seconds. When they whipped open the door, Puck
and Artie were having a thumb war, which sent
everyone into gales of laughter.

"Okay, Brittany, you pick next," Rachel said when


they'd all settled down.

"Dude, that was boring. When I pick, I am getting a


chick," Puck said resolutely.

"Santana!" Brittany squealed.

"Hey! How did you manage that?" he demanded,


outraged. "They cheated!"

"We didn't cheat. We're just lucky," Santana replied,


grinning as Mercedes tied on her blindfold.

"I was holding the bowl the entire time, Noah. They
couldn't have cheated," Rachel assured him.

"Right. Cause it's not like you weren't too busy making
moon eyes at Blondie to notice anything else," he
grumped.

She rolled her eyes. Santana and Brittany curled


pinkies, and Kurt shut the door, and Matt and Artie
proceeded to fight over whose watch they should use.
Puck watched that, since he refused to lower himself
to participating in a makeover.
XXXXXX

Kurt got impatient after a total of six minutes this time,


and knocked on the door when Mercedes failed to
make him sit down again.

"Are you ladies ready yet?" he called.

"Just a—" there was a squeak.

"Go away, Hummel!" Santana snarled. "I'm working


here! And I've still got forty-three seconds!"

He blinked and shook his head. "I don't want to


know."

Quinn shifted a little closer to Rachel, and they once


again counted down the seconds (on Artie's watch,
since it turned out Matt's wasn't Swiss…). Brittany
was flushed, but smiling, when they came out, and
Santana grinned with self-satisfaction as they plopped
on the couch.

"All right then. Finn? Your turn," Rachel said stiffly.

He huffed and heaved out of his chair to shuffle


through the names, unfolded his paper, and promptly
went pale.

"Uh…Kurt."
Kurt grinned. "Excellent!"

He high-fived Mercedes before Artie blindfolded him


and Finn sputtered.

"We…we don't have to…. How about a new game?"


he offered, swatting Puck away when he tried to
blindfold him.

"Dude, don't be a pansy. I sucked it up," he said,


shaking his head.

"What if I draw again?" he asked, panicking.

"You have to go in with who you drew the first time.


Those are the rules," Rachel said firmly.

He gulped as Puck steered him toward the closet,


where Kurt was already waiting.

XXXXXX

Mercedes opened the door when the seven minutes


had passed, and they found Finn with his hand on a
scowling Kurt's shoulder.

She chuckled. "Time's up, guys."

"Thank God! Finn, you are a horrible


conversationalist," Kurt snapped, whipping off his
blindfold as he came out.
"So, how's it feel to come out of the closet, dude?"
Puck asked, clapping Finn on the shoulder.

"Anyone not expecting that joke, raise your hand,"


Santana said, rolling her eyes.

No one did. Finn scowled at Puck before plopping into


his chair again.

"So. What did you guys do while we were in there?"


Finn demanded, glowering at Quinn and Rachel.

"We played 'I Spy'," Tina said cheerfully.

"Most boring game of all time," Matt said, sighing.

"We could've played the strip version, but no," Puck


growled. "You guys had to be boring. Again."

"I still don't understand how the strip version works,"


Artie commented.

"It's easy. You just—"

"Kurt, you get to draw next," Rachel reminded him.

He closed his eyes and reached in. "Please let it be a


not boring person," he repeated over and over, then
plucked the slip out. "Oh…Quinn."
She huffed. "Fine. I'll get up."

"Don't be boring."

"I'll try my best."

"Have fun," Rachel said cheerfully, guiding her to the


closet.

Quinn grinned, and then Mercedes shut the door.

XXXXXX

"What did you guys do?" Tina asked curiously.

"Kurt tried to attack me," Quinn said sourly, sitting


next to Rachel again, who stroked her arm soothingly.

"He tried to what?" Puck demanded.

"I did not! She's just upset because I gave her a few
styling tips she didn't appreciate!" Kurt said
defensively. "Besides, she's the one who attacked.
She stepped on my toe." Mercedes patted him.

Rachel giggled and Quinn replied haughtily, "I warned


you to shut up."

"I didn't know you were going to get violent if I didn't!"

"See, that's your problem, Hummel. You never listen. I


clearly said, 'Dear God, man, if you don't shut up, I
will castrate you.' And I was a lot nicer than that."

"Not by much," he whimpered.

"Well, I'll admit I was actually aiming for your shin, but
I couldn't see, so I settled."

Santana nodded approvingly, and Finn glared when


Rachel linked their arms and Quinn smiled at her.

"Okay, I believe Matt is up next."

He tried Kurt's technique and closed his eyes while


repeating, "Please be a girl." It worked; he grinned
with triumph when he read, "Tina!"

"Hey!" Artie exclaimed. "Okay, I think we need to


establish a new rule."

"But we're already playing. Shouldn't our rules have


been developed beforehand?" Rachel asked,
frowning.

"That's easy for you to say. Quinn went in with a gay


guy. You had nothing to worry about," he muttered.

"Hel-lo!" Finn yelled.

Artie blinked. "Hi?"


"Can we please acknowledge that I am the one dating
Rachel here?" he snapped, folding his arms.

There was a pause.

"No," Puck said.

Finn gaped.

"It's more fun this way," Mercedes agreed.

"Your veins stick out," Kurt added.

"And you turn all red," Brittany said.

"And it's generally hilarious," Santana concluded.

"Your impotent rage has always been pretty


amusing," Tina said softly.

Finn gaped indignantly; Quinn smirked at him.

"Where are we on the new rule thing?" Artie asked.

"Okay, okay. New Seven Minutes in Heaven Rule,"


Rachel announced, sitting up. "If you draw someone
who is already taken, all activities in the closet must
be restricted to above the neck or hands-only, and
any kissing must be limited to first base. Is that good
enough, Artie?"
He grumbled his assent and Matt sighed.

"You ready, girl?" he asked Tina, who nodded shyly.

"Why couldn't we have instated that rule during Truth


or Dare?" Finn mumbled.

"Dude, what are you complaining about?" Puck


demanded. "You got to see a lesbian kiss, man. And
you'll probably get to see more, if things go right over
there."

"Now, Noah, Finn does have a point. We should


respect his status as my boyfriend," Rachel said, and
Finn nodded.

"Thank you, Rachel."

Quinn frowned, but Rachel patted her shoulder


comfortingly and she was (at least for the moment)
placated. They all cat-called and wolf-whistled at Matt
and Tina while they were shoved into the closet.

XXXXXX

"You guys stole the thumb war idea!" Puck exclaimed.

Tina lifted her blindfold. "Well, we were going to go


with 'I Spy', but it turns out that game is really hard to
play when you can't see."
Everyone laughed, and Tina blushed.

"All right, Mercedes, you're up," Rachel said, stirring


up the names a bit more.

She dug in and whipped out a slip, then smiled.


"Mike."

"Sweet!" He grinned at her. "You know, if we make


out, I'd only have three of the girls left."

She rolled her eyes. "You wish, big boy."

The rest of them laughed.

"Burn," Matt commented.

"Besides, I believe we've just instated a new rule


about taken people, and my heart will always belong
to Sean Patrick Thomas." She shared a grin with Kurt.
"That boy can move."

Kurt nodded in agreement and Mike gasped,


offended.

"Well, can he do this?" And he proceeded to pop-and-


lock.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "That's like elementary


school dancing compared to what he does. Now let's
do this."
XXXXXX

"I'm getting a little bored," Kurt said at five and a half


minutes.

"I'm tired," Brittany added, yawning.

"You should be," Santana purred.

When they all stared, she rolled her eyes.

"Because it's like twelve in the morning. God, pervs."

"Well, we can go to bed after this round, if everyone


wants to," Rachel assured them.

"I'm not tired," Puck said, and Matt, Kurt, and Artie
added their agreements.

"I'd suggest just the girls go to bed then, but…I really


don't trust you boys not to do strange things to us in
our sleep."

"Besides, we haven't all gotten to go," Matt pointed


out.

"Everyone but me has gotten at least one turn, and


I'm perfectly fine with ending the game here," Rachel
retorted.
"Seven Minutes in Heaven has to be the last game of
the party, though," Puck insisted.

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's the best one."

Rachel exchanged an exasperated glance with Quinn.


Artie glanced at his watch.

"Time's up."

Kurt whipped open the door. "Oh, my God, you guys!"

Mercedes pulled off her blindfold. "What? I was


throwing him a bone. He spent the entire seven
minutes begging to do something other than thumb
warring."

"Did not," Mike grumbled.

"Whatever."

"Mike, it's your turn," Rachel reminded him when he


went to sit.

"Oh, sweet. Please be someone looser with their


tongue!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes while he dug through.


"Uh, Rachel, do you, like, carry around gold star
stickers with you or something?" Mike asked, pointing
to the star on her slip.

Quinn bristled.

"Actually, yes!" Rachel swept out a packet of them.


"They're very convenient."

They all exchanged amused glances and Rachel set


the bowl in Quinn's lap. Mercedes tied the blindfold
around her head.

"Can I please draw another name?" Mike asked


anxiously.

Rachel squeaked indignantly.

"Not because it's you! I mean…you're pretty hot when


you're not talking and stuff, but Finn and Quinn
already got this whole war thing going on and I…I'm
too young to die." He nodded for emphasis.

"That's why we made the new rule," she reminded


him. "No one's going to be mad at you. Now, come
on."

He sighed and let Matt blindfold him.

"They're glaring at me. I can feel it."


"Dude, you're fine."

"Don't be a wuss," Puck said, pounding him on the


back.

"I'm not mad, Mike," Finn assured him.

"You're not really the one I'm worried about."

Puck shut the door before Finn could respond.

XXXXXX

"Time's up!"

Kurt bounced to open the door and Rachel was


straightening Mike's shoulders.

"That'll give you better support when you're singing,"


she told him, and Mike sighed. "Honestly, you need to
work on your posture. That's why you're always losing
air so quickly."

Kurt grinned. "Time's up."

"Oh! Lovely," Rachel said, pulling off the blindfold and


hopping back to her spot next to Quinn, who was
smirking again.

"Seven minutes in heaven," Mike grumbled. "More


like hell."
"I think seven minutes in a closet with Rachel counts
as purgatory," Kurt replied.

"I'd be insulted, but I think that's actually the nicest


thing you've ever said about me. Noah, you draw
next."

"All right!" He rubbed his hands together and took a


moment to pray it would be a hot girl, and then he dug
through the papers. "Mercedes!"

She groaned. "You're gonna try to make out with me,


aren't you?"

He waggled his eyebrows.

"Just don't grope me, please. That's all I ask."

"I make no promises."

XXXXXX

"Puck, learn to use less tongue! I'm begging you!"


Mercedes shook her head, plopping next to Kurt and
stretching her jaw.

"I don't use too much tongue," he said, frowning. "Do


I, Brittany?"

She avoided his eyes. He scowled.


"Quinn? Rach?"

"Well, I—we haven't made out in such a long time,


Noah, I—"

"Quinn, come on."

"I was drunk."

He huffed. "Santana?"

"You use tongue like Coach Sylvester uses the


phrase 'that's hard.'"

"Damn."

"Quinn, your turn." Rachel smiled.

She huffed and pulled the slip off the top. "Matt."

"Yes!" She glared at him and he swallowed. "Or…


crap."

She rolled her eyes and let Rachel blindfold her


again.

"I'm going to be playing a thumb war again, aren't I?"


he asked Mike.

He patted him on the shoulder.


XXXXXX

"I wasn't trying to touch your boob! I swear to God!"

"Right. Because that's why you just happened to


touch one. On your way to not doing that. Tina, you're
in my seat."

She moved.

"I was just trying to find you. It's dark in there. And my
toe hurts now."

"We were already holding hands, you idiot. And you're


lucky something else doesn't hurt."

Rachel rubbed her arm soothingly.

"I guess no one should play Seven Minutes in Heaven


with Quinn," Kurt said, shaking his head. "She's
dangerous in there."

"Only when you annoy me."

"Okay, my turn!" Rachel said delightedly, and she


concentrated hard as she dug through the papers.
She grinned triumphantly. "Finn."

He brightened and let Puck blindfold him. Quinn


scowled and did her duty, guiding Rachel into the
closet. Kurt shut the door and frowned at the others.

"Did Rachel seem far too delighted about that to


anyone else?" he asked.

"Considering she's spent the last hour or so clinging


to Quinn's arm, yes," Artie agreed.

Kurt glanced at them. "I'm going in."

And he pressed his ear to the door.

"God, if you're going to do this, do it right," Quinn said


irritably.

She snatched an empty glass from the table and


pressed her ear to it. The others followed suit and
started giggling as they listened.

XXXXXX

"First of all, I'd appreciate it very much if you wiped


that sour look off your face. You are completely
dragging the party down, and—"

"Rachel—"

"—this is supposed to be our celebration of glee's


second chance. So please stop ruining everyone
else's good time."
"Rach, aren't we—"

"I'm not finished yet. Second, I'm very disappointed in


your performance in a game that was all about me,
whom you supposedly love."

"Those were really hard questions!"

"Quinn didn't think so."

"Oh, so that's what this is about, huh?"

"A little bit. But I'm still not finished. Thirdly—"

"Rachel, this is a really weird conversation to have


with blindfolds on. Can I—"

"No! You will adhere to the rules. Now, where was I?


Oh, yes, I am also extremely upset with you for lying
to me about your date with Santana. I could have
understood it if you waited to tell me until we started
dating, since at the time we weren't dating and you
didn't owe me anything, but as your current girlfriend,
I believe it was pertinent information."

"You lied, too!"

"Again, I lied about being a virgin. Besides, I didn't


outright lie. I was very careful about my wording, if
you remember, and it really wasn't a big deal to tell
Jesse why I couldn't go through with it."
Finn scoffed.

"I heard that. My fourth point is that, after tonight's


events, I've realized how ill-suited we are for one
another."

"What you mean is, you made out with Quinn and it
was so good you want to break up."

"No. Not to say that it wasn't good—Quinn is an


excellent kisser, by the way, and I'm suddenly finding
it difficult to understand why you broke up with her in
the first place, but I digress. You've proved yourself
far lower than adequate in several areas tonight, and
most of them had nothing to do with Quinn."

"Really? Enlighten me."

"Well, first, you clearly don't listen to me. Frankly, I'll


be surprised if you manage to remember that I broke
up with you tomorrow."

"You're—"

"Second, you fail to incite arousal in me, which I


believe is part of a good, healthy relationship. Third,
you hardly notice when I'm insulted by members of
our glee club, and when you do, you don't defend me
until I point it out. In short, I feel that you don't respect
and care about me as a boyfriend should, and I
believe it is in our best interests to terminate this
relationship."

"You don't think this is going to drag down the party?"

"On the contrary, everyone seems to be in support of


this decision."

"You…you talked to them about this?"

"No, I simply gathered a consensus by listening to the


comments made by all of our teammates. Although I
did ask Mike while we were in the closet, and he
confirmed my beliefs."

"Great. So I suppose you're gonna go fly into Quinn's


arms as soon as we're done."

"If I were, I'd hardly tell you, would I?"

"Tell him, damnit, tell him."

Rachel gasped. "Noah, get away from the door this


instant! This is a private conversation!"

"OW!"

"Look what you did! You got us in trouble!"

"Santana!" Rachel scolded.


"Damnit!"

"OW! That was your fault!"

"Now we won't be able to hear the rest of the


conversation. Great job, guys."

Finn growled. "Kurt?"

"Just how many of you are listening?" Rachel


demanded, and yanked open the door.

All ten of them scrambled for seats, shoving each


other over in order to get there in time. Rachel
scowled at them, blindfold hanging down around her
neck.

"Well, aren't you all lovely friends?"

"Great. Now all our friends heard you dump me," Finn
groaned. "I'll never be able to show my face at school
again."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a drama


queen."

He gaped at her.

"Still, I am very disappointed in all of you. That was


extremely poor etiquette," she said, folding her arms.
There was a chorus of 'sorry' and pointing fingers until
Rachel raised her hands to halt all conversation.

"I don't care who started it. You should all be


ashamed of yourselves, and I expect all of you to
apologize personally to Finn."

"Than—hey! Why not to you, too? You were in there,


too!" he growled.

"I didn't have anything embarrassing happen to me."

He glared, and they all apologized one by one.

"Very good. Now, I believe it's Santana's turn to—"

"Wait. We're sorry, but we really have to know,"


Mercedes said sheepishly, glancing at the others for
support.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Are-you-and-Quinn-gonna-date-now?" Matt blurted,


after Puck elbowed him.

She glanced at a pouting Finn, and then at a frowning


Quinn.

"You're all very bold tonight. Did you crack into my


father's alcohol, by chance?" she asked sternly,
smirking as she sat next to Quinn.
"Come on, Rach! Tell us!" Mike whined.

"Please?" Brittany pouted and Rachel laughed.

"I think that's between me and Quinn, don't you?" And


she turned to the blonde, who nodded.

"Keep your noses out of my business."

They all groaned. Santana sighed and pulled


Brittany's slip out of the bowl, waved it at them, and
dragged her into the closet without bothering with the
blindfolds. Artie went to time them, but Rachel waved
her hand dismissively.

"Don't bother. I think we're done with this game, and


they'll come out when Santana is ready to."

"Good point."

"Who else is tired?"

The boys protested, and the girls rolled their eyes.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Mercedes said. "Right, T?"

She yawned. "Definitely."

"Lightweights," Puck scoffed.


"I'm going to bed, too," Rachel replied, stretching.
"Finn, I know you're angry with me right now." He
glared. "But in the morning, I'm making chocolate chip
waffles." He hesitated and she grinned. "Good night."

Quinn wobbled to her feet when Rachel pulled her


along behind her, and everyone called good night to
them, and Finn sighed, torn. They were on the third
step when he called, "Night!"

Rachel grinned.

"Dude, you're just pathetic," Puck commented,


shaking his head.

"Shut up."

XXXXXX

"Nice bed."

"Thanks." Rachel plopped on the edge, smiling. "So…


is Santana just full of it or…?"

Quinn smirked. "Not completely. I probably would've


phrased it a little differently…."

"That's a relief. What would you have said?"

She sat next to her. "I want to date you."


A grin spread across her face. "I'd like that."

Quinn smirked back. "I knew you'd come to see things


my way." She frowned. "Although I wasn't really
expecting it to be because Santana told you I want to
bone you."

"Well, it wasn't, really."

"What was, then?"

Rachel considered that. "I'd have to say…it was when


you knew my favorite color was red." She grinned
impishly. "Really sealed the deal."

Quinn shook her head, smiling. "Liar."

"You're right. It was actually this."

And she leaned in to kiss her again, more gently this


time, though Quinn soon had her tongue running over
her bottom lip and her thumb running lazy circles over
Rachel's favorite spot and then they were kissing far
more aggressively as the blonde explored her mouth.
Rachel let her hands wander over her back and sides
this time, and just as Quinn started to push her back
down to the bed, she tore away, panting.

"Quinn?"

She grunted.
"Do you want to play strip poker?"

Her only answer was a devilish grin.

XXXXXX

Title: Uninvited
Author: Claire G
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn +plenty of others
Word count: 18,033 in total
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are the property of
Fox. No infringement intended.
Plot: Let's pretend we've had several episodes where
Rachel and Quinn have been fighting with lots of
subtexty loveliness. Quinn and Sam are no longer
together and pretty much everyone is single.
Tensions rise when Mercedes' birthday party goes
awry. Rachel leaves Glee Club and Quinn processes
her feelings. Basically it's a Faberry-orientated
episode and I hope it's fun and funny! I wanted to get
them together in the traditional Glee way.
Note:Written before 'Never Been Kissed', but is set
any time after Rocky Horror.
Songs featured: Madonna - Sorry, Usher - DJ Got Us
Fallin' In Love, Elkie Brooks - Don't Cry Out Loud,
Rascal Flatts - My Wish, Ashley Tisdale - Tell Me Lies

[So here's what you missed last week.]

[Sue created a new line of Cheerios merchandise and


food product line.]

"Care for a nibble on my cherry pie, Will? Or we do a


nice line in man-bags."

[Tina and Mike broke up due to artistic differences.]

"I am not emo." Tina slammed the door in Mike's face.

"Goth-vamp-rock-nerd-steam...punk?" he whined.

The door reopened. "Okay, a little emo, but we're still


over."

[Artie sought advice on his love life.]

"Miss Pillsbury, this has been a useful conversation,


but can we talk about my issues now?

[Rachel and Quinn had a face off and aren't talking to


each other.]

"Perfect hair, perfect smile... perfect bitch." Rachel


looked Quinn up and down with disdain.

"No wonder your mother didn't want you. "

Rachel let her hand fly out and slapped Quinn clean
across the cheek. "Of all people in this school, Quinn,
you should know better."
[And that's what you missed on Glee.]

[Monday]

"Salutations," Sue hailed cheerily as she entered the


Principal's office, nudging the door shut with a hip
swing. "Welcome to a bright today. Please be sure to
remove all footwear before entering the temple 'o'
me." She cast her hands down her pale blue tracksuit
with lime trim, and sat down in a free chair opposite
Figgins' desk.

"Well hello, Sue. You seem to be in a good mood."


Figgins looked up, sliding a booklet detailing
'Overcoming Your Fear of Tall Women' underneath a
set of reports.

Sue leaned in to jauntily rest her knuckles beneath


her chin, and spoke through the side of her mouth,
eyes shifty. "Well, Figgy, I am. The birds are singing,
and one little bird may not be singing for much
longer." She winked and Figgins' right eye twitched,
struggling not to reciprocate.

He held onto a corner of the booklet to keep his


strength as he spoke. "If this is another complaint
about the pigeons in the gym roof, then we have
already discussed this, Sue. We simply can not
capture and remove their heads to place on spikes in
order to frighten rival schools. The PTA turned you
down based on a failed risk assessment. Too much
blood."

"No, no, no," she shook her head vigorously. "Though


I do have a new plan involving disembodied limbs
from dissection class, and a billboard display along
the lines of that wonderful moral series of
documentaries 'Saw'."

He sniffed. "Well, we'll cross that bridge -"

"Billboard," Sue interrupted with a snap of her fingers


and a laugh.

"Please... the point?" Figgins requested, drawing


himself up and puffing his chest out broadly, as per
the instructions he'd read earlier.

"Don't do that," she scolded. "A turkey attacked me


once and it brings out the beast in me. So if you don't
want to have your clawed foot rammed down your
beaky throat then please exhale." A sorry-looking
Figgins slumped back down into his seat with a sigh.
"Now listen carefully -" Sue continued "- and I will tell
all." She leaned over again, even more
conspiratorially than before. "Now, I just heard a very
intriguing conversation between the school nurse and
a pupil. It would seem that Miss Rachel Berry has
been denied a large quantity of sleeping tablets."

"What?" Will Schuester, also seated opposite Figgins,


blurted with a frown.
"Oh, hey there, Schue-shine," Sue smirked. "Didn't
see your ethereal yet stocky frame; must've been the
vapid expression on your forgettable face." Before
anyone could reply, she jumped back in. "Why are
you always in here anyway? Shouldn't you get back to
your minions in Shop class, or have you left them with
an equally uninspiring cardboard cutout of yourself?"

"Spanish, Sue. I teach Spanish," Will dismissed with a


half-bemused smile on his lips.

"Oh I forgot. Sure. Shop... what was I thinking? Far


too many splinters." She nodded to herself. "Where
would we be if we let you damage those precious,
ivory-tinkling digits?" She turned back to the Principal
and winked again. "I'll tell ya: heaven."

"Why are you listening in on conversations with the


nurse, Sue? It is not and never has been part of our
policy..." Figgins began.

Sue held her hand to her chest. "It's not my fault that
my office has a direct ventilation link to the Nurse's
office, now is it? Nor that my predecessor, may he
rest in peace, had set up a motion-activated
monitoring system to feed his desires to hear
teenagers describe their more intimate issues. Can I
help it if the recording panel is directly beside my wall-
mounted, vibrating, abdomen-blasting belt? And my
over-worked, loudspeaker finger is liable to slip once
in a while. Come on, don't both look at me like I'm
inhuman."

"One in three medical experts agrees," Will coughed


into his hand and smirked.

Sue sneered at Will and turned back to Figgins.


"Besides, after the Fabray furor, I need to know if any
of my Cheerios are suffering."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Sue," Figgins


commented genuinely.

She tapped her head. "Well that's me. Always a


hundred sparking neurons ahead of the competition. If
any more of my girls show signs of being infected with
a human pupa, I'll be right in there with a knitting
needle and a cauterizing iron." She made a jabbing
motion in the air.

Will's mouth opened in disbelief. "Sue... you can't."

"Hey, hey," she shrugged. "I'm not a monster. I'd get


them to sign an agreement first. And they get half a
twinkie after."

"You've got to let these kids live their lives." Will


cupped his hands out in front of him in a begging
gesture. "Guiding is one thing, but controlling..."

"Oh come on, Dr Phil. You know as well as I do, these


kids need to be boxed, labeled and filed. I've got
Brittany tagged for her own good."

"Tagged for what?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Electronically tagged. If she has an independent


thought, I get a message on my iPhone." She pulled it
out of her pocket. "See, great little app."

"That's ridiculous."

"Oh, there's one coming in now. Look, she's


considering whether to eat nachos or a banana." Sue
raised the phone to her mouth. "Banana, Brittany.
Banana. Man, I tell you, the positions that girl can
bend into would terrify Japanese acrobats. I need to
make a note to insure her tendons; they're as vital in
the success of the Cheerios, as Dolly Parton's breasts
are to the survival of country and western music," she
mused, pocketing her phone.

"Back to the point, Sue?" Figgins blinked and tugged


on his jacket uncomfortably.

"Simple, I think Glee Club's little Anne Frank with


attitude has got a case of the eeyores." Sue dragged
her fingers down her cheeks. "I for one think she's
going to do the honorable thing. Saving us all the pain
of having to exist in a world which has her in it."

"Oh come on, Sue," Will dismissed with small chuckle.


"Hey, you know me. I jest, but I care. Just like that
legendary entertainer -" she held her palm to her
chest "- Jesus. I'm just giving you the old heads up
before your little starlet goes Judy Garland on you.
You should be thanking me. "

"But Rachel isn't like that. If she ever felt down, she'd
come to me," Will assured. "Sure she's had some
rough times, but Glee Club has always got her
through."

Sue gave him a look like he was roadkill that she


needed to scrape off her shoe. "If all I had to fall back
on were a set of utterly repugnant, maladjusted
misfits, and a man who frankly has less charisma than
a sun-mutated thrift store Ken doll, I'd seriously be
considering committing suppuku: the Samurai ritual of
self disembowelment." Will rolled his eyes at her.
"Anyway, I clearly interrupted your little love-in with
our sage leader, so why are you here, Schuester?
Pray continue."

"I'll answer that one, Sue." Figgins intercepted Will's


need to reply. "It would seem that the Glee Club
staged a party in the practice room on Friday night;
things got out of hand and the piano was badly
damaged." He shook his head. "Not good, Will."

"Oh wow, William." Sue shook her head. "Some great


guidance skills you have there, bud." She stood up
and slapped Will hard on the back before leaving.
"Oh, and you know where I am if you need an extra
pallbearer."

"Hey, Finn, hold up," Will called down the corridor as


he trotted up to the lockers.

Finn swung his bag to the floor and turned, a look of


slight despair on his face. "Oh God, Mr Schue, I'm so
sorry for what happened. We're totally gonna get the
money together to pay for the repairs. It was all really
stupid. Just don't blame Rachel; it wasn't her fault. We
all owe her an apology for what happened." He
nervously scratched at the back of his head. "I feel
really guilty. I promise you, we didn't do it intentionally
to hurt her, it's just that since we broke up, she's been
on kind of a downer on me."

"Whoa," Will put his hand up. "Hurt her? What do you
mean you feel guilty?"

"I didn't invite her to the party. No one invited her, Mr


S. But she found out somehow and turned up.
Seemed pretty pissed at us all too. And I feel bad.
Just cause we're not together, doesn't mean I don't
care, you know what I mean?" Quinn sauntered past
and Finn looked at her sorrowfully, part of his heart
still belonged to her too. "Jeez, I need someone new
to center my attention on." He raised an eyebrow and
pursed his lips, perusing the school's female
population for likely candidates.
"Yeah, I understand," Will sighed, squeezing Finn's
shoulder. Emma waltzed past clutching a new set of
laminated guides on 'Love yourself! It's okay!' He
suddenly looked equally forlorn. "Me too. Look I'm
gonna get Miss Pillsbury to talk to Rachel. I'm a little
worried about her state of mind."

"Miss Pillsbury's state of mind?" Finn asked


innocently.

"No, Finn. Rachel's."

"I don't mean to to dismiss the seriousness of this, but


this isn't the first time Rachel 's been excluded."

"No reason to let it happen though, Finn. "

Unaware anyone was listening in, Will left a perplexed


Finn to get to class and sped off down the corridor.
From behind the open locker door, Quinn bit her lip,
looked at her shoes and hugged her books to her
chest.

"You see, Miss Pillsbury, this is where things get hard


when you have two dads," Rachel explained, a deep
frown gracing her forehead.

Emma coughed delicately, clasped her hands on the


table and tilted her head to one side in a gesture of
openness. "Yes, I can see how it might be difficult.
Sometimes people have inbuilt prejudices -"

"No. I don't mean that," Rachel sighed, twisting a


hexagonal button on her pale cardigan.

"Not having a woman around to discuss all those little


feminine issues?"

"I'm not sure if someone told you, but there are things
called computers, and a wonderful resource called the
int-er-net."

"Rachel," Emma exclaimed, pursing her lips and


looking deeply offended. "Please don't patronize me.
I'm here to help you."

"Sorry," Rachel pouted and glumly began to scan the


pictures hanging around the room. Her attention was
caught by a poster of the Cookie Monster bearing the
slogan 'Take rickets seriously!' "I can't sleep, like, at
all. I've tossed and turned for the last three nights.
The dark circles around my eyes are so bad, I've
taken to wearing concealer reserved for puchase by
junkies and funeral parlor cosmetologists."

"Oh dear. So... you'd like a mom to talk to?"

"I have a mom. She just isn't... around. That's the


problem. If she were there, I could steal Valium from
her, like all the other kids do with their moms."
"Rachel, please don't say things like that." Emma
tutted, eyes wide. "Do... do kids really do that?"
Emma pressed at her cheekbones. "Don't answer
that."

"I wish Mr Schuester's wife -"

"Ex-wife," Emma attempted to correct.

Rachel continued unabated: "- had continued as


school nurse; she'd have given me the pills. She
understood emotional pain, even if she was a little
crazy."

"Pills, you see, Rachel... we have to be very careful


because -"

"All I want, is a night's sleep. A whole one. That's why


I need those sleeping pills."

"Oh well... yes." Emma cheered up a little, much


relieved.

"This school's treatment of my current situation is


beyond ridiculous." Rachel stabbed at the desk with
her fingertip. "If you all recognized how important my
teenage life is to my career, you'd understand."

Emma swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Well


Terri, I'm sure she would have -"
"You know, I really have no idea why I've been sent
here. I have a therapist, you know. He's the best in
Ohio and I've been visiting him since I was five."

"Well. Golly. It's good to talk with all sorts of people.


Your parents, your friends, your teachers, your...
therapist." Emma blinked rapidly. "We're all here to
care for your well-being."

"Ha," said Rachel without a hint of humor.

"Pardon me? "

"I said 'Ha.' Friends." Rachel pushed out her bottom


lip and crossed her arms. "The only person I can rely
on is myself. The only thing I can control in life is me,
and right now I don't even know what's happening to
that. I'm in such turmoil." She threw her hands in the
air dramatically. "Everything I do now affects my
future. Every day in which I deviate from my life plan,
is a day lost."

"Life plan, huh? That's very... organized. But I do


believe a little spontaneity can be life enriching,"
Emma said softly, subconsciously ordering herself to
make a different sandwich for her next lunch pack.

"I had a milkshake on Saturday... a milkshake! With


real milk in it."

"I'm sure the cows will forgive you," Emma offered, a


little uncertain as to the right way to reassure a vegan
who has fallen off the wagon.

"I don't think you understand how serious this is. I


mean, do you? I don't suppose you ever could, not
having ever aspired to become more important than
an... office worker."

Emma stood up from her chair, a blaze of anger


across her face . "Rachel!" She bit her tongue. "I think
you should come back when you're in a more
receptive mood. "

"Fine." Rachel rose to her feet, her stern expression


causing Emma's left eye to twitch. "Maybe never
then."

Rachel let out a deep sigh, drawing undue attention


and inviting her extra credit French teacher to rap her
knuckles on the board. "Miss Berry, will you please
pay attention. This is not like you at all."

A pout on her lips, Rachel replied: "Je suis désolée."

"Merci, Rachel."

"Lo siento," she added quietly, eyes half-lidded.

"I believe you'll find that is Spanish," said the teacher,


causing the rest of the class to snicker.
"Ik ben droevig."

"Are you doing this to be funny? Because I do not find


this remotely amusing." The teacher remained stoney-
faced, while the rest of the class fell about laughing.

"Sono spiacente." Rachel continued, her expression


almost trance-like.

"That's it. Go to the Principal's office."

"Perdóname," continued Rachel, her lip curling as she


became more visibly disgruntled.

"Now."

Rachel left the room in a hurry, looping her satchel


over her head and marching down the hallway, with
no intention whatsoever of visiting Principal Figgins.
Steadily, she gained speed and, with a running step,
headed towards the library, the steady beat of her
footsteps sounding a rhythm in her head. "I've heard it
all before, I've heard it all before," she shouted to a
few startled students. "I've heard it all before. I've
heard it all before. I've heard it all before. I've heard it
all before. "

"No running in the corridors," one of the hall monitors


called after her.

"I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know." Speech


became song. "Please don't say you're sorry. I've
heard it all before. And I... can take care of myself. I
don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know." She tumbled
into the library and turned to the woman at the desk.
"Please don't say 'Forgive me'."

"Shh," the librarian scolded.

"I've seen it all before. And I... can't take it anymore."


Rachel picked up the most recent yearbook and
flicked to the Glee Club page. Her eyes centered on
the group shot and she clutched her fists tight. "You're
not half the man you think you are. Save your words
because you've gone too far. I've listened to your lies
and all your stories." She glanced over the faces of
her friends. "You're not half the woman you'd like to
be." Her eyes darkened and she grabbed the nearest
marker to deface the group shot. "I don't wanna hear,
I don't wanna know. Please don't say you're sorry. I've
heard it all before, and I... can take care of myself."
Two teachers approached to quash her behavior.
Rachel rose, tore a clump of pages from the yearbook
and threw them in the air above her head. Pages
fluttered and fell around her.

Striding out, she headed for the practice room. "I don't
wanna hear, I don't wanna know." She held her ears
in her hands, blocking out the sounds of people
calling for her attention. "Please don't say 'Forgive
me'. I've seen it all before, and I... can't take it
anymore." Closing the door behind her she looked at
the piano, one side of which had been smashed into
the wall, just a few nights before. She lifted the lid and
ran her fingers over the keys. "Don't explain yourself
'cause talk is cheap. There's more important things
than hearing you speak. You stayed because I made
it so convenient. Don't explain yourself, you'll never
see." With a large sigh, Rachel sank down onto a
chair. "Gomen nasais. Mujhe maaf kardo.
Przepraszam. Sli'kha. Forgive me..."

Finn and Santana stood at the door, gazing through


the glass panel. "This is worse than I thought; she's
started speaking in tongues," said Finn with concern.

Santana jabbed him with her fist. "It's Madonna,


moron."

"Well either way, I don't think she's gonna accept a


simple sorry." Together they watched Rachel as she
descended into tears.

All the Glee Club members, save for Rachel, gathered


in the practice room, bustling nervously into their
seats to await their punishment. The wheels of Artie's
chair squeaked as his hands rocked back and forth on
the tyres in nervous anticipation.

"Hey, guys. I'm sure you know I've called you all here
about Friday night." Will pressed his knuckle to his
lips, deep in thought. "I don't know..." He shook his
head. "I think you know how disappointed I am in
you."

Everyone hung their heads in shame. Kurt looked


around at the series of sheepish faces, raised his
hand and decided to speak up. "Mr Schue? If I may?"

"Yes, Kurt."

Kurt swallowed and got to his feet, stroked a wrinkle


from his slim red tie, and coughed daintily. "I think you
know how sorry we all are. As spokesperson for the
group, I wanted to say that we apologize profusely for
the events that transpired." Everyone nodded as he
spoke. "We had intended the evening to be a small,
quiet affair in celebration of Mercedes' birthday. Since
we had no money, are all underage, and without any
parent-free homes, we made the foolhardy decision to
use this room. But I promise you, had the electricity
not blown, no damage would have been done. It was
an accident."

"Accident or not, you came on school grounds without


authorization. I can't believe how irresponsible you all
were." Will trailed his hands through his hair and
shook his head with dismay. "What if there had been
a fire?"

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Might've been a good thing.


These chicks get colder by the second." Quinn shot
him a disgusted look and he shrugged in response.
Mercedes looked up . "I'm really sorry, Mr Schue .
The guys were just trying to do something nice for
me. It's been a hard year for me and my mom; they
just wanted to make me feel better. We know we did
wrong and we will make it up to you. Won't we?"
There was a general mutter of agreement as she
looked around the room.

"Thank you, Kurt, Mercedes." Will sat down on the


closest stool and took a heavy breath. "You know if
this were up to me, I'd let you off with just paying the
money, but Principal Figgins thinks you owe the
school a little more." He put his hand up as the
murmurs of discontentment began. "But it's not too
bad. All you have to do is clean the garbage from
under the bleachers."

Quinn looked horrified. "Oh my God, no, Mr


Schuester. We can't." Her plea was backed by a
chorus of nuh-uhs and no-ways.

"What's so wrong? When I attended school here the


bleachers where always, y'know, a make out point."
Will grinned. "It couldn't be more than a few soda
cups and little trash."

Finn shook his head. "Not anymore Mr Schue, not


since the Principal refused to pay extra for the janitor
to clear after each game."

"Have you ever seen 'The Blob'?" Tina asked,


wincing.

"I'm well aware of horror that lies beneath the seats,"


Artie spoke up, pushing his glasses onto the bridge of
his nose. "Having been rolled into the slurry of hot
dogs and burritos many times."

"Sorry about that, dude," Puck apologized with mild


sincerety, causing Artie to look timid and a little
embarrassed.

"Well I for one will not be helping," Santana said with


a grimace. "I'll get my dad to pay for someone to do it
for me."

Will rubbed at his forehead and inhaled deeply.


"Won't cut it, I'm afraid. You do it as a team, or two
days' suspension for all of you."

"Excuse me." Quinn raised a hand and spoke over the


sounds of grumbling.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"Why the hell isn't Rachel here?" she asked abruptly.


"Why would she get special treatment?"

"Well..."

"I asked Mr Schuester not to include her," Finn


interrupted. "We all know that we didn't ask Rachel to
the party. None of this was her idea."

"I feel bad too," muttered Mercedes.

"Are you serious?" shouted Tina, getting to her feet.


"She's been really overbearing lately."

"Come on, guys," Will frowned. "Rachel's not that bad.


Admittedly a little demanding, but -"

Quinn put her hands on her knees and leaned


forward. "Well someone must have invited her, or she
wouldn't have been there. And for all we know it could
have been her that slammed the piano into the wall."

Will looked confused. "You mean you don't even


know what happened? "

"It's all a beautiful blur." Puck closed his eyes, grinned


and hugged himself.

"I think you all are going to have to take me through


the night," Will said, pointing over his shoulders with
his thumbs.

"Oh, yay, flashback," said Brittany, bouncing on her


chair.

Will smiled and looked at the floor. "Heh. Yeah, just


like Wayne's World." He waved his hands in front of
his face. "Doodl-oodl-oo, doodl-oodl-oo." He stopped
abruptly when he noticed that everyone was staring at
him. "Party time? Excellent?" he asked hopefully.

"Are you okay, Mr Schue?" asked Artie, biting his


cheek to prevent himself from laughing. "Is this like a
Vietnam thing, but for your generation?"

"Yeah, PTED: Post Traumatic Eighties Disorder,"


Sam interjected.

"Hey. Don't make me feel old. Besides, Wayne's


World came out in theaters in about 1990," Will said,
with a note of victory and a semi bow.

"None of us were born then," said Mercedes with a


touch of concern in her voice. "But it's okay, you're
our teacher, technically it would be a problem if you
were as young as us."

"You'd steal all the male leads for one," smirked Kurt.

Will jabbed the air with his finger. "Touché."

"Are we in the past yet?" asked Brittany innocently.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "I'll start. It all began that


morning when Kurt and I were getting our books..."

[Flash to Friday]

"Oh God, she's coming. Why do you have to be gay? I


coulda kissed you as a means of distraction."
Mercedes scowled, elbowing Kurt in the ribs.

"Ow. Apologies for not being available for locker


whoredom for the sake of avoiding Rachel Berry."
Kurt adjusted his hair and pouted, watching Rachel
striding directly towards them.

"Great, now she's got eye contact." Mercedes forced


a smile and spoke through her teeth. "Now remember,
don't mention tonight, I want a carefree... Hey,
Rachel! "

"Good morning, Mercedes, Kurt." Rachel beamed.


"I'm glad I caught you because I know it's Mercedes'
birthday, and -"

Mercedes cut her off. "Sorry, Rachel, we've got to get


to, uh, to class."

"But you have a free period. We all do."

"Uh. Well, what Mercedes means by class, Rachel, is


class." Kurt made speech marks with his fingers and
bobbed down on his knees a little like he was talking
to a child.

Rachel winked heavily. "So you're going off grounds. I


could do that. Every star must have their stories of
rebel times; it's very important for the memoirs I'm
constantly compiling. What's the plan? Where are you
going?" She looked wistful. "To sneak into the back of
a movie theater without paying?"

"No, Rachel, because we've passed puberty," Kurt


dismissed. "Or at least -" he looked her up and down
"- I have. You may have a little more growing in you."

"Um, go to Carmel High and put a cherry bomb in the


lavatories?" she offered.

"Girl, you're twisted. Retro twisted." Mercedes looked


at Rachel like she had three heads.

"Oh, oh, I know. We could go to an underground club,


dress as rap artists, crash the stage and start
impromtu beatboxing. At first the audience shuns us,
but soon they come to realize that we are truly great,
and the crescendo of applause will begin."

"I'm not sure exactly how many underground clubs we


have in Lima, let alone ones that would let us in, and
that would be open at ten am," Mercedes said, hands
on hips. "And besides, Rachel, you're about as
gangsta as a floppy-eared bunny rabbit wearin' a pink
vest and prank store, goggle-eyed glasses."

Kurt was a little wide-eyed, his mouth agape. "Rap?


Beatbox?"

"I am very well versed in many forms of singing


technique. It pays to know these things." Rachel
began counting on her fingers. "Scat, yodelling..."

"Hey look, Finn's calling for you," Kurt said suddenly,


cutting Rachel off by pointing directly over her
shoulder.

She turned but was unable to see Finn, or anyone


else she knew for that matter. "I..." But Mercedes and
Kurt had walked away. "I have something to give you,
Mercedes," she called out. They didn't look back.

Puck, Finn and Sam trailed into the changing rooms,


pulled off their helmets and sat down heavily on the
benches.

"This is not right; at least one of us should still be


going steady with Quinn. Or any cheerleader. Or any
girl. We've got to get back in the game," Puck
squinted, like he was forming a plan.

"I just wanna date someone who thinks I'm okay as I


am." Finn hung his head.

Sam patted him on the back. "Nice idea, but I think


you might have to wait 'til we leave school for that
kind of relationship."

"Sam's right, Finn. Now is all about the conquering."

"Well I didn't say exactly that."


"And we have to use tonight as a way back into the
ladies' hearts," Puck continued.

"So what do we do? Draw names out of a hat? Seems


a little cold." Finn rubbed his face and tried to work
out whose name he'd like to see pulled out.

"No," Puck was very definite on this. "We let them


come to us."

"This will fail entirely," Sam retorted, just as definitely


but with an added chuckle.

"Dude, no. This is going to be immense. I'm tired of


chasing tail; I want it just to roll on home to papa.
We'll play it cool and save our energies for other
things." He winked. "Deal?"

"Fneh," murmured Finn.

"Guess," said Sam, non-commitally.

Puck glared. "Jesus. How do I have such dweebs as


my wing men? It's all or nothing, guys. I'll ask again:
deal?"

"Deal," they echoed with more enthusiasm.

"And Finn, that means no dancing like a tarantula.


Sam, that means no smiling like a teradactyl."
"Hey," they both protested loudly.

"Hello?" Rachel's voice echoed around the room,


causing the boys to turn their heads and look with
trepidation towards the sound.

"Oh God, hide me," said Finn, panic-stricken. "We


said not to mention to Rachel about tonight, and she
can read me like a book. I can't help it. I blurt truths in
front of her. I think she used to hypnotize me when we
were together."

"Hide?" Puck looked dismayed. "Finn, dude, you're


wearing half a ton of plastic and padding: what do you
want me to do, get out my lighter and melt you into
one of the lockers? Just let me deal, okay?" Footsteps
approached but stopped when Puck shouted out: "No
place for a girl, Rachel. There's all kinds of things in
here that would damage your delicate sensibilities."

"Okay," she replied, tapping her shoe impatiently.

Finn nodded with approval, almost impressed. "Nice."

"But if you want some manly sweat time," Puck


added. "I have a slot free at four. Want me to slide
you in?"

Finn's expression dropped. "Not cool."

"Oh come on, she'd think it was weird if I didn't say


something like that," he explained in a whisper.

"No, thank you, Noah," Rachel politely called back


from the doorway. "Have you seen Mercedes? I
thought she and Kurt might be boy watching or
something."

"Sure as hell hope not," Puck said, looking a little


perturbed, while Finn glanced around the room for
hidden cameras.

"Is Finn there?" she asked.

The response was so fast as to be almost innate:


"Yea-," Finn began. Puck and Sam dived, knocking
him to the ground, landing on top of his chest and
consequently winding him. "Told you," he said through
a strained breath. "Nice tackle."

"Everything okay in there? Should I come in?"

"No, Rachel. I just knocked a dumbbell off the bench."


Puck sneered and pulled himself off Finn and Sam,
who were left in an awkward embrace. They all
scrambled away from each other. "Uh, Rachel, I think
Schuester was looking for you earlier, something
about needing your expert ear and choosing some
tune or other."

"Oh, thank you." Rachel scurried away.


"I feel bad for her." Finn screwed his face up.

"Do you ever not feel bad?" asked Puck. "I mean,
really? Get over it. I've seen bigger smiles on Droopy
Dog."

Sam reached over to pat Finn's chest. "If you want to


get romantic, you can't do it under the watchful eyes
of your ex."

"But Quinn will be there too." Finn thrust his hands out
in a begging motion.

"Uh huh." Puck raised his eyebrows. "But there's no


party without Quinn. She's like the goal at the end of
our field. One of us has to score."

"There's no way she's gonna come crawling back to


any of us." Finn rubbed at his face roughly.

"Do either of you think it's a little weird that Quinn has
dated all of three of us?" asked Sam with genuine
curiosity.

"No," Finn and Puck replied, a little bemused. "We're


on the football team."

"Technically, I think I'm next in line to date Rachel,"


Sam smiled widely.

"No," Finn and Puck replied, with harsh glares.


"You wanted to see me, Mr Schuester?" Rachel
knocked on the open door to Will's office.

"Uh, no?" Will smiled and winced at the same time.


He received a dejected look and so added: "But I'm
always happy when I do."

A smile twitched at the corner of Rachel's mouth. "If


you see Mercedes, will you tell her I'm looking for
her?"

"Sure, no problem." Will looked back down at his


work, but noticed, out of the corner of his eye, one of
Rachel's shoes scuffing the floor nervously. "I bet
someone else will know where she is. Maybe Kurt,
Quinn?"

"Wherever I approach, they hurry away." Rachel bit


on her lower lip. "Brittany even put her lunch bag over
her head." A perplexed Will shook his head, so she
went on to explain. "She thought if she couldn't see
me, I wouldn't be able to see her." Rachel sighed
deeply and looked contemplative. "Have I done
something wrong again? I have a habit of treading on
people's toes and not noticing." Will went to speak but
she cut him off. "I know that people can get jealous of
true talent; it can be hard for them. I'm gracious
enough to realize that."

"Well... that's good, Rachel. It's always good to be


humble." He clasped his hands together. "Look, I
know that there have been a few problems in the
group, what with you and Finn breaking up, and the
fact that you and Quinn insist on being at least five
yards away from each other at all times. Which, can I
say, makes dance routines incredibly hard to work
out."

"Not really; I stay at the front, she stays at the back.


Simple."

"Rachel," Will chided. "Whatever is wrong will have no


doubt blown over by Monday, okay?" He smiled
reassuringly. "But, Rachel..."

"Yes, Mr Schue?"

"High school doesn't last forever. Make the years


good ones; don't hold grudges. Sort out this animosity
with Quinn."

"Yes, Mr Schue."

"Britt, you do realize that you don't have to wear your


uniform all the time?" Santana, who was wearing a
fairly slutty black dress, looked Brittany up and down
with disdain and moderate disappointment.

"My brain itches if I try to take it off. Sometimes I wear


it into the shower, but then... you'd know that,"
Brittany said with a happy shoulder shrug.
"Yeah." Santana smirked before fluttering her
eyelashes and grabbing Brittany by the hand to drag
her into the newly converted, sultry Glee Club practice
room.

"Hey, ladies," Mercedes shouted excitedly over the


noise of the thrumming music, as they offloaded
presents into her arms. "Wow, Santana, so
generous."

"Not really; it's a heap of junk from the bottom of my


closet," muttered Santana, glancing over Mercedes'
shoulder at the décor.

"It's from the both of us," added Brittany, smiling


inanely.

"Well it's very nicely wrapped."

"I have people," Santana said without a hint of


warmth.

"Glad you could make it," Mercedes said with a happy


shrug. "As you can see, Kurt has done a damn fine
job diva-ing the place up."

"Nothing but the finest glitz and glam for my girls."


Kurt guided them into the room. "We have music, we
have lights, we have a range of delicious finger foods,
and Puck has provided the, uh, well I suppose you
could call it 'drink'. I have my doubts."

"Hey-" Puck spoke up "- that's Canada's finest right


there, imported in the hollowed out seats of my
cousin's Hummer. No one could say that we
Puckerman men don't come through with the goods."
He plunged his hands deep into his jeans pockets. "I
also bribed the night security ten bucks to let us in.
For some reason he said that meant his children
could have Christmas this year."

"Yo, people, the axeman cometh," Artie called out as


he wheeled his way through the door and skidded to a
stop by Mercedes. Grabbing her hand, he kissed the
back of it and proffered to her a gift-bagged present.

"Thank you, Artie . You may look like a pasty-faced


teenage nerd, but I know that you truly have the soul
of a forty year old, tormented black man."

"I hope that earns me a dance with the birthday girl,"


he grinned.

"Always," Mercedes said as she pushed Artie into a


spin.

More guests arrived. "Hey, very nice, Kurt. It almost


looks like a real club or something," said Finn,
nodding with approval. He leaned over to whisper in
Kurt's ear and spoke with uncertainty. "I got Mercedes
a card with a puppy on it and an iTunes gift certificate.
Will that be okay?"

Kurt patted Finn on the shoulder. "Good boy," he said


with al most imperceptible condescension.

Much later, Quinn weaved her way between the


throng of bodies. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she said softly
into Mercedes' ear as she pulled her into a hug.
"Though it looks like I'm not last to arrive."

"Hey, Quinn," Mercedes spoke merrily over the sound


of the music. "No, we're good. This is everyone.
Come get a drink."

"What? Rachel's not coming? How could she let you


down like this? She knows no bounds."

"Uh, whoa, pull those claws back in, honey. We


decided that, since you guys had fallen out, we
wouldn't tell her about tonight. The tension between
you two has been unbearable. And what she doesn't
know won't hurt her, right?"

"Oh... I see." Quinn raised an eyebrow and spoke with


considered slowness. "A night with no drama; could it
really be possible?"

"Come on, girl. If I didn't know you better, I'd think you
were disappointed."

"Ha, yeah," Quinn muttered through an unconvincing


laugh.

"Finn, dude. You look like you'd rather be at home in


your sweats, eating dry Cap'n Crunch and scratching
yourself." Puck crossed his arms and stared at his
friend who was brooding in a corner.

"I thought we were supposed to lay low at this thing,"


Finn said under his breath.

"Yeah, play it cool, not play it dead. Hang out with the
men, look tough, look tall... well, you don't need so
much help with that. Just act like these girls are totally
missing out on a hunka chunka Finnlove, 'kay, bud?"

Finn drew himself up and puffed up his chest. "Like


this?"

"Yeah, sorta. Try squinting a little, like you've got a


mysterious side," Puck said as he imitated what he
was suggesting. Finn attempted to replicate. Puck
looked deflated. "Aww, man, you just look like you're
giving everyone the stink-eye."

"I'm not cool, it's just not who I am," Finn groaned.

"Try this. You... are James T Kirk. No, you... are


James Bond. Yeah. You're British, and you can
survive any explosion without even loosing a cufflink.
All women want you; you're dangerous, but suave.
You're not wearing an old t-shirt that smells like -" he
leaned in to sniff Finn's chest "- Marshmallow Peeps;
instead you're all suits and aftershave."

Finn smiled crookedly, lost in a new little Finnworld of


speedboats and babes in bikinis. "Yeah," he said with
a drawn out breath and a nod. Looking a little more
confident in himself, he scanned the room and
mentally bid the women to approach. Soon someone
did.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said Artie as his tyres


ceased their roll. Had he been wearing a hat, he
would have no doubt doffed it.

Puck rubbed his chin and spoke to Finn out of the


side of his mouth. "I think you threw your machismo a
little low, dude. Try rack height."

"It never works, you know." Puck and Finn looked at


Artie like he was speaking a foreign language. "The
standing back thing, I mean. The women won't come
to you, because they're quite happy dancing and
talking to each other. You have to provide something
new. Something they can't give each other."

"I'm not comfortable with you talking about my deep


valley pioneer," rebuked Puck, with a scowl and pout.

"I'm not talking about your penis. I'm talking about


vulnerable nights, stormy evenings, horror movies.
They're drawn to us in such times."
"I'm pretty sure all the girls could beat the crap out of
us." Finn winced. "Nothing scares them."

"It's a psychological thing," Artie insisted. "Offer to


walk them home. That's what I'm going to do with Tina
tonight."

"Why should I take advice from a man who spends his


days eye level with my zipper?" asked Puck.

"Because my position also affords me unabashed


views of the ladies' behinds?" Artie almost snorted.

"Nice. High five?" Puck held out his palm for Artie to
slap. "Down low?" And again. "Up high?" Puck held
his hand way above his head. "Never mind," he
smirked causing Artie to look suddenly grumpy. "Nice
idea, the whole chivalrous thing, but I think I'll stick to
wine coolers and dirty looks." Finn and Artie crossed
their arms and looked at Puck like disapproving
parents. "What?" He threw his hands up. "What? Aw,
man, forget you two." He approached the mp3 player
and dragged his finger down the list. "Hey, Mercedes,
what say you we get some real moves on the floor."
Puck scanned through the tracks . "How do you feel
about..." A familiar tune began and grew steadily
louder, catching people's attention. Puck spoke in an
almost whisper. "Usher, Usher, Usher..."

Mercedes threw her hands in the air. "Yeah, man."


"So we back in the club with the bodies rockin' from
side to side," Puck sang, hand on heart, while Mike
took the lead in the dancing stakes by carrying out the
signature moves.

"Side, side to side," everyone chorused, gathering on


the dancefloor .

Puck pulled Finn into the circle in time for him to sing:
"Thank God the week is done. I feel like a zombie
gone back to life."

"Back, back to life." The group clapped along with the


beat.

Mercedes chimed in. "Hands up, yeah suddenly we all


got our hands up." She slid her hands down her sides
then pointed her way around the room, indicating
each person in turn. "No control of my body. Ain't I
seen you before? I think I remember those eyes,
eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes."

It quickly became a group affair. They bounced to the


music in time, fists in the air, and sang together.
"'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love
again. Yeah, baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love
again. So dance, dance, like it's the last, last night of
your life, life. Gon' get you right. 'Cause baby tonight,
the DJ got us falling in love again."
Puck took the lead once again. "Keep downing drinks
like there's no tomorrow." He handed Santana a bottle
and she glanced at his ass as he spun away. "There's
just right now, now, now, now, now, now. Gon' set the
roof on fire. Gonna burn this mother down, down,
down, down, down, down, down. Hands up, when the
music drops, we both put our hands up. Put your
hands on my body." Grabbing Quinn's arms, he
attempted to put her hands on his hips, but she
dismissed his advances and went back to dancing
with Brittany and Santana.

Sam stepped up, singing with all his energy. "Swear I


seen you before. I think I remember those eyes, eyes,
eyes, eyes. 'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling
in love again. Yeah, baby tonight, the DJ got us falling
in love again. So dance, dance, like it's the last, last
night of your life, life. Gonna get you right. 'Cause
baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again."

Artie took over as the center of attention and began to


mimic the turning of tables with his gloved hands. "In
the cover of the music, get naked baby," he rapped.
"I'm sorry chica, better holla at Tyrone. Let him know
how I jump through your foot loop. Scolla chico two
can. We're from the blocka blocka o polaca. Where
the boys get loose like wacka flacka. Oh no, man, it's
global." He noticed with a smirk that Tina was
watching him. "Was' up, Colale flacka. I wanna be
your gyno, not your doctor. Dale abre ahi.
Papanicolau, baby." The door flung wide. "Rachel?"
Artie frowned.

Sam swiftly strafed his way over to the music player


and guided the volume to ten percent.

Finn leaped forward and thrust his hands out . "This


isn't what it looks like."

"It's not Mercedes' birthday party?" Rachel asked.

"Oh well, yeah, it is. I thought you'd think it was a


secret song practice." Finn looked bashful.

"Please, don't mind me. I only came here for one


thing." Rachel strode directly for Mercedes and
handed her an envelope.

"Rachel, I..." Mercedes trailed off.

"Just open it, and then I'll leave you be."

Timidly Mercedes pulled out a card and opened it.


"Oh my God, Rachel." She stared wide eyed. "Are
these real? LL Cool J VIP tickets?"

"My dad is his... fourth cousin, or something.


Anyway... I thought you might appreciate them."

Mercedes lunged forward and gave Rachel a hug that


compressed the air out of her lungs. After a second
and a small, prompting cough, she let go. "Rachel...
I'm really -"

Rachel put her hand up. "It's okay, that was all. Just
popped by; didn't mean to kill your fun." She turned
on her heel. But, at that moment, the lights blinked off,
leaving them all in near pitch blackness on such a
moonless night. At least two people screamed.

"Did anyone else just poop their pants?" Sam called


into the abject silence.

"Ew," Kurt intoned.

Mike ran out of the room to find the junction box for
the lights, while everyone else felt their way around
blindly.

"Is everybody okay?" Finn's voice seemed to echo


around the room.

"The important thing is not to panic," Artie called out,


a waver in his voice. "We'll all be fine. Just have to
wait... in the dark, and hope Mike doesn't die in some
hideous basement accident, and that the janitor,
seeing that the lights are out, doesn't lock us in for the
weekend so we wither until the point where we have
to eat each other."

"I call Finn," Kurt raised his hand in the darkness.

"Creepy, Kurt." Finn grumbled.


"I once ate an antelope the size of my head."
Brittany's voice cut through the uncomfortable
moment.

"Cantaloupe," corrected Santana.

Quinn decided it was her time to give her two cents.


Hands on hips she announced: "Well, I for one am not
standing around here."

"It won't be long; don't be all gripey and womany,"


Puck admonished.

"Don't be sexist, Noah," Rachel said with a sigh.

"Shut up, Rachel," Quinn spat back.

"Anyone know any urban legends?" Tina asked


keenly, only to be greeted with a cold silence.

Mercedes called out to Sam to turn the music up. He


fumbled around and finally obliged. "Now just chill,
people. Sit, sleep, whatever, just don't be buggin'.
This will all be over before you know it."

A good ten minutes passed with barely a murmur


from the group, except for the odd suppressed moan.

"Puck, if that's you, I don't want the lights to come on


and find you getting heavy with the baby-making."
Mercedes grimaced.

A cell phone began ringing and yet again the


screaming started. Kurt stood up. "People," he cried
over the clamor. "Stop, or someone will hurt
themselves." His words proved to be an almost
unfortunate call to arms. Artie's tyres twisted against
the polished floor and suddenly everyone seemed to
be trying to make a move. Someone's foot caught on
the wheelchair and they fell forward, causing a
domino effect of people. A loud crack sounded,
followed by the distinct sound of piano hammers
bouncing.

"Oh, that did not sound good, guys," Tina said with a
shakiness to her voice.

A cascade of books fell on Finn's head. "Am I


unconscious?" he asked.

Puck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, dude, totally out of it."

"Whoa," Finn breathed.

All the lights came on at once, causing everyone to


blink blearily and stare at each other like they'd woken
up on a spaceship. They rubbed at their elbows and
shins.

It was a moment before they all looked over at the


piano, inducing dread amongst the masses. Santana
put her hands on her hips and sneered. "You people
are fail. I'm outta here. Brittany, heel."

[Monday]

"So that was it, Mr Schue." Mercedes shrugged.

Brittany raised her hand. "Can I go see the nurse? I


have time travel sickness."

"Try putting your head between your knees," Kurt


suggested flippantly with a flourish of his finger.

Will spoke, his head lolling to one side as he watched


Brittany slump over. "Well... thank you all for helping
me piece this puzzle together. I'm afraid all your
parents will have to be informed by letter." Everyone
groaned. "Hey, it could be worse. I'm glad that you
wisely chose not to drink alcohol that night."

"Man, those were totally drunk-making drinks," Puck


said, before Finn elbowed him in the side. "Hey, we
have a reputation to keep up."

Will shook his head. "I can promise you, they were
non-alcoholic. I checked the labels. All mocktails and
virgin drinks. Very responsible."

The rest of the group turned and shouted: "Puck!"

"Quinn?" Will tipped his head into view. "You're late."


He drew his fobwatch out of his vest pocket, brought it
up to her face, and clicked open the lid to briefly show
her the time before tucking it away again.

She blinked. "Sorry, Mr Schuester. I haven't been


sleeping at all well."

He nodded slowly then turned to the rest of the Glee


Club members, all in matching red coveralls, and
clapped his hands together loudly. "Okay, people,
pick up your shovels and get that mess cleared.
Quinn, follow me. I want you to come and help find
Rachel."

"Me, Mr Schue? I'd really rather help everyone else,"


she uttered breathily, indicating behind her as she
struggled to match Will's increasing pace as he strode
off underneath the bleachers.

"Why would the head cheerleader rather help clear up


junk, than talk to her friend?" Will weaved between
the vertical posts which seemed to stretch absurdly
far into the distance, almost off the edge of the world.

"Rachel is not my friend."

Will stopped and turned abruptly, causing Quinn to


run straight into his chest. He looked directly into her
eyes. "You're hers." He set off again, quickly
disappearing into the shadows. "Come quick, you're
late." As they hurried their journey became darker, the
space under the seating seemed to grow smaller and
more cramped, creepers hung from the wooden slats
and all around were pieces of old furniture from
Quinn's childhood.

"This is just... odd. Late for what, Mr Schue?" she


called out, her patience fraying as she noticed her
shoes and pants were becoming increasingly muddy.

"Don't forget to bend your knees when you land." He


spun on the spot and dropped out of sight, like
someone had opened a trick hatch in a stage floor.

Quinn turned a full circle. "Mr Schue?" She rubbed at


her neck nervously and stepped forward again. "This
isn't funny. Where'd you go? I have n-" Blackness
swooped down upon her and no sooner did she have
the sensation of falling, than she had the feeling of
landing. On her behind. On one of the benches. In the
boys' locker room. A door slammed and Quinn looked
up with startled vision.

"Hey, babe." Puck, dressed in full football gear, was


sat on top of a wall of red lockers, he jumped down
and near floated to the floor. "Nice duds." Quinn
looked down to find she was wearing her McKinley
cheerleading uniform, but this variation on the norm
was a little more revealing and replacing red was
baby blue. "Where'd you fall from?" He slid alongside
her and nudged her shoulder with his. "Heaven?" His
tone oozed with something like charm, but was much
closer to smarm.

"Very funny," she said flatly, removing his hand from


her thigh. "I'm so glad I don't have to listen to your
pick-up lines anymore."

"Don't girls want to feel attractive?" Puck's eyes


sparkled with interest.

"Of course, but we also want to feel like we're being


told the truth."

"C'mon, you know you're the hottest girl in school -"


he nuzzled her cheek and made her smile a little "-
let's rearrange the alphabet and put P and Q next to
each other." He nodded with self assurance.

"I think you mean U and I, because P and Q already


are next to each other, doofus."

He smirked, leaning over to kiss her. Quinn shuffled


away. "In that case, maybe I should call R and S to
join in." Puck's hands slid around Quinn's waist.

"No, Puck. " Quinn frowned.

He stuck out his bottom lip. "Pwease? "

"No," she said vehemently, crossing her arms.

"But this is a dream. You're not gonna get pregnant.


And even if you did, they'd be little dream babies
who'd go poof by the time you wake."

"Still no."

Puck looked up as they heard a noise. "Hey, Dee-


man." Finn looked down on them and smiled inanely.

"Dee?" Quinn asked with a shake of her head.

"Yeah," Finn smiled. "Puck is Tweedledum , I'm


Tweedledee. Didn't you get the email?" Quinn was
stunned into silence. "Y'know... the one Rachel sent
out about us all gathering for an Alice in Wonderland
party in your dream on Monday night?" Finn brought
his wrist up to eye level and pointed at its face.
"Which my Spiderman watch here tells me is... today."

"What? That is ridiculous."

Finn looked a little perturbed. "Oh, wow, awkward, did


Rachel not invite you?" He sucked air through his
teeth and looked over at Puck who was tutting. "Can
she do that? Can she not invite Quinn to her own
dream?"

A hand appeared in front of Quinn's face and the


fingers snapped. "Clearly it doesn't matter because
you're here."

"Oh, Miss Sylvester," Quinn gasped, staring at Sue's


purple and pink tracksuit. "I didn't see you come in."

"Well, no, you wouldn't." Sue shook Quinn's hand


vigorously while smiling widely. "What's the use in
being a figment of your imagination, if I have to mess
around walking in and out of doorways? And I
certainly hope you have no intention of permitting
toilet breaks. Non sequiturs stop us wasting time;
logic is for losers, just ask the creators of Lost." Sue
checked her clip board and tapped a finger on the
paper attached. "Today it would appear I'm
auditioning for the part of your subconscious, here
represented by the Cheshire Cat: cute, huh? Well
look at me. I clearly have the part anyway because of
my winning smile," she beamed. The clipboard
blinked out of existence.

"Coach, I'm a little confused."

"Clearly. Quite the fey little world you have here.


What's next? A Titanic re-enactment?" Sue clasped
her hand to her chest and spoke effeminately. "Jack, I
want you to draw me like one of your French girls."
Sue spat on the floor. "What with armpit hair? Sick,
Quinn, sick. You shouldn't be dreaming about your
so-called friends. You should be immersed in a world
of training and winning. This just isn't healthy, Q-ball.
Look at what you've done to Mr Hudson, here; your
psyche has reduced him to the mental equivalent of
deformed plankton; when he's not talking he just
stares at nothing."
Finn shook off his gormless expression and spoke up.
"Oh, no, Miss Sylvester, I do do that."

"Right, lord, we don't have time for half of this." Sue


screwed her face up and the clipboard reappeared in
her hands. "Okay. Number one. Let's lose Artie the
caterpillar for starters; I'm not taking this dream
anywhere near a drug-addled cripple in a sleeping
bag. What else..." Sue scanned down the list. "Boring.
Ridiculous. Pointless. I'm not having my any of my
Cheerios eat cake in their sleep; it might give you
ideas. Right, that leaves... the tea party."

"But how do I get there?" Quinn asked meekly.

"You already are." Sue disappeared and Quinn found


herself in the practice room, dressed in jeans, chucks
and a t-shirt.

"You could have dolled up for the occasion," Kurt


remarked indignantly, as he pressed on Quinn's
shoulder and forced her down into a seat. The action
rocked the table.

"Sandwich?" Mercedes held up a full plate. "We cut


off all the crusts to make them delicate."

"It's the small things that count," Kurt smiled in a self-


satisfied manner, his elaborate hat sitting jauntily atop
his head. Sweeping his velvet coat tails back, he
seated himself at the head of the table. "So, Quinn...
we find ourselves concerned for you. We believe you
might not be feeling yourself. "

"I'm fine," Quinn said sternly. "Can I wake up yet?"

They ignored her." You're not the girl we once knew."


Mercedes shook her head. "The one who would scowl
at us and tell us we were unworthy of her presence.
Who wouldn't have thought twice about pouring
slushie down our necks."

"I'm not that person now."

"But you want to be, don't you? You feel like it's wrong
if you don't reject us. Like you can't be Quinn Fabray,
head cheerleader, wannabe prom queen... if you see
us as friends."

Quinn sighed. "I don't want that to be true."

"B-b-b-but you think it is true," a small voice called


out. "T-t-t-hat's why you've shunned R-r-r-rachel.

"What the hell was that?" Quinn asked, looking


around.

A tiny version of Tina climbed out of the teapot and


toppled onto her face. "Hey, Q-q-quinn."

Kurt looked up. "Why has Tina got a stutter? Have


you not been paying attention, Quinn? She hasn't had
one in months. Is this how you treat us?" The corners
of his mouth turned down as he looked down his nose
at her.

"Yeah," Mercedes pouted. "And what have you got


me wearing? Do you think I have no style? Everything
matches; what's up with that? Do you not know me at
all? Only one wristwatch?" She held up her hand
pointedly and then strutted away.

A whistle sounded. "Oh come on people. This is


beyond boring," said another voice from nowhere.
Quinn looked down to see Sue's face on the surface
of a silver platter. "You call this surreal, Fabray? I've
hallucinated worse after eating a hotdog from the
school canteen." She brought her loudhailer to her
lips. "Next."

Quinn blinked and looked down to find herself


standing on the auditorium stage. She was now
wearing a simple blue dress and cream shrug. Her
hair, previously tied tight, now hung in loose curls,
clasped on one side. Behind her, dressed in their
Cheerios uniforms, Brittany and Santana were
painting a grand set at the back of the stage. Brittany
leaned over to whisper into Santana's ear, they both
giggled and looked over at Quinn.

"We're painting the roses on the set red," Brittany


explained.
"Of course you are," Quinn said as she rolled her
eyes. "I'm starting to worry for my sanity."

Santana examined her nails. "But we're only doing it


because she said we have to."

"She, who? Coach Sylvester?"

"No, silly... Rachel," Santana raised an eyebrow. "But


she's only doing all of this because she cares about
you."

"If Rachel cares about me, why hasn't she spoken to


me in weeks?" Quinn glared at the girls.

"It takes two to tango, sweetheart," Santana smirked.

"You have to sing your song now," Brittany explained,


pushing Quinn to center stage.

"Song?" The piano seemed to play itself. "Of course.


Did I really think that a dream organized and planned
by Rachel Berry wouldn't include a song?" Quinn
laughed to herself and lowered her gaze. Then, as the
house lights rose, she began to sing. "Baby cried the
day the circus came to town. 'Cause she didn't want
parades just passing by her." She looked up. "So she
painted on a smile and took up with some clown.
While she danced without a net upon a wire. I know a
lot about her, because you see. Baby," Quinn
swallowed hard, "is an awful lot like me."

She closed her eyes as the words pulled from her


throat. "We don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And
learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud.
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all.
Baby saw that when they pulled that big top down.
They left behind her dreams among the litter. And the
different kind of love she thought she'd found. There
was nothing left but sawdust and some glitter. But
Baby can't be broken, 'cause you see. She had the
finest teacher. That was me. I told her." Another
spotlight shot down onto the stage, lighting Santana
and Brittany, each with a microphone and singing
back-up.

Quinn took a deep emotional breath. "We don't cry


out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide
your feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should
fall, remember you almost had it all." Quinn made fists
with her hands. Behind her Brittany pulled out a
trumpet and began playing. "We don't cry out loud.
Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your
feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should fall,
remember you almost made it. Don't cry out loud. Just
keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Fly
high and proud. And if you should fall, remember you
almost had it all."

The music tailed off. With a clunk, the lights faded and
Quinn became enveloped by darkness, save for a
single spotlight almost blinding her. "I know you're
there," she said with barely a whisper. "I expected you
to join me; why didn't you take the limelight?"

"It's not time for that yet." Quinn felt Rachel's


presence at first close by, then walking behind her.
"You miss, it don't you?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know what you mean. Miss what?"

"Fighting with me," Rachel whispered.

The overhead lamps came back on and Quinn ran her


hands through her hair self-consciously. "You make
me nervous, but it's like stage nerves and it makes
me feel alive. I don't know what to do with that. Where
do I put that? If not fighting with you?"

"You have to express yourself somehow."

"Why do you make me feel like this? I hate that I don't


understand it." Quinn pursed her lips and put her
hands on her hips in a gesture of dominance.

"Maybe when you look at me, it reminds you of what


you've given up." Rachel poked Quinn in the stomach.
"Because when you look at me, you see my mother.
You remember giving up your child." In a flurry of
smoke and haze, Shelby appeared, baby in her arms,
then disappeared almost instantly .
"No, that's not it. And that little effect was way too
theatrical for one of my dreams."

"What then? Because, Quinn, you've brought me


here. You've labeled me as the bad guy." Rachel held
her arms out to the sides. "You've even placed the
blame for this dream on me. I'm the evil Queen in
your little fantasy, and don't tell me that it's just
because I look hot in red." Rachel tugged on one of
the dress straps as she spoke. "It's because if you
don't see me this way, then -"

"Don't. Please. I don't know. I don't know." She was


almost frantic. "I just know that on Friday, something
changed, and now I don't know what to do."

Rachel stepped closer, looking Quinn directly in the


eyes. "Just say what you've been feeling."

"No," Quinn said breathily.

"Please."

"It's too hard. I can't."

"You can because... I put braids in your hair," Rachel


said calmly.

"What?"

"I put braids in your hair." The voice was different this
time. Quinn groggily sat up in her chair and reached
up to find her hair a mess and Brittany staring
maniacally at her.

"Hey, Quinn, nice to have you back." Will clapped.


"Nice singing by the way. Not sure I've ever heard of
anyone singing in their sleep before. Well maybe
Rachel... I doubt she stops, even when unconscious."

Everyone laughed.

Santana leaned in close. "Flushed that much... gotta


be a sex dream. Tell me all later." She winked.

[Tuesday]

Quinn crossed her arms and turned to the boys. Her


hair was caught up prettily in a 1940s-style headscarf
and she was wearing full coveralls. "We get this done
and we get it done fast. I have so many places I'd
rather be. Also ... I want no mention of getting 'down
and dirty' or naked mudwrestling. Right?" She turned
her ear to them. "Hello? Earth to idiots?"

Mercedes pulled on her elbow. "I think you've lost


them. They'll be glazed over for a good five minutes."

Santana snapped her fingers in front of Finn's face.

"Oh for crap's sake. Useless." Quinn shouted with her


hands on her hips. "Come on girls."
They lined up and surveyed the area. "Surely this
goes against health and safety," Tina moaned. "What
if we die? Will they remember us as the Glee Club, or
the kids who got swallowed by the swamp monster
under the bleachers?"

Mercedes picked up shovel. "If they remember us at


all."

"Perhaps we should sing a song to raise our spirits,"


Puck suggested as he pulled out a huge foam pointy
fingered hand from the mulch.

"As long as it's not a Jew version of 'Swing low, sweet


chariot', I'm happy with that," Mercedes replied.

"Oh man, what is this? There's something big in here.


I think it's an old bicycle. C'mon, help me out,
Skywalker," Puck called and indicated for Finn to
throw over a bundle of rope.

"Why am I not Luke?" asked Sam. "I'm so Luke."

Puck threaded the rope around the handlebars.


"Because my man Finn here is the kind of sweet guy
who would fall in love with his long lost sister."

Finn's face dropped. "Thanks, Puck."

Puck smugly called out for Sam, Mike and Artie in


turn. "Chewbacca, threepio and artoo."

"Haha," Artie dead-panned as he wheeled over.

"If the shoe fits," Puck shrugged. "Finn, tie the rope to
the front of Artie's chair and we'll pull this old thing
outta here. Mike, you drag Artie back and Finn and
Sam will lever it up with these sticks.

"And what will you do?" asked Sam, wiping filth from
his forehead.

"Wait for the glory." He folded his arms and stood


deep in the trash. Suddenly his expression changed.
"Whoa. Something just moved past my leg!"

"Yeah, sure," Sam smirked, disbelieving.

"Look. Did you see that? Puck pointed. "There's


something alive in here."

"Boys!" Quinn, Mercedes, Tina and Santana shook


their heads.

"I totally agree." Kurt appeared behind them, dressed


in one his dad's coveralls, finished off with diamanté
belt. "We're all doomed."

Puck pretended to flail in the boggy heap and then


laughing, reached down and picked up a random item
to hold in the air. He held it aloft and shook it. "It's
alive." Everyone took a step back and looked a little
pale. "Hey, I was only joking."

Artie spoke up: "I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings...


but you're holding up what appears to be a
disembodied human limb.

"I never knew Puck could scream a high F," said Kurt
with a wave of his hand as he strode down the
hallway. "We could dress him as a nun and get him to
sing Climb Every Mountain at Regionals."

"I'm just glad Mr Schuester said we were emotionally


scarred enough not to have to continue with the
clean-up, even if it was just an old mannequin."
Mercedes clutched her fists tight and bounced as she
walked. "I wonder where it came from."

Kurt grinned. "Well, didn't you notice... the various


parts of the body were wearing a Cheerios t-shirt,
trainers and baseball cap."

"So you think..." Mercedes nodded with realization.

Kurt tapped his nose. "Deduction, Miss Jones. Well,


that and Brittany admitted that Coach Sylvester had
asked her to dismantle it and put it there. I do worry
about that girl sometimes."

"It's not littering if it's your own back yard," Sue


shouted in Will's face as she looked down on him
from the stone steps.

"You can't just dump stuff when you don't want it," Will
retaliated.

"Doing things properly costs money and humanity is


innately lazy. Why do you think the mob is so
successful? Who wouldn't prefer a gun-carrying
professional over a bureaucrat? One day, Will, when
you're old, dribbling, incontinent or, preferably, dead,
I'll be swimming in a sea of gold coins; not just
because I cut corners, but because I intend to marry a
rich Italian prince. For the title only; I can't stand
Italians." Sue spat down the collar of a passing boy.

"Sue!" Will objected.

"What? You expect me not to prove my point?" Sue


pursed her lips pointedly.

"But that boy isn't even Italian."

"Jeez. His father owns and runs a shop that sells


European leather purses. It was the best I could do
with the time allotted." She pointed at Will and glared.
"I'd like to see you do better."

"Sue. This is serious. I've taken a look and there's all


sorts of Cheerios mess under there. Including several
pompoms... in Carmel High colors."
"Well how strange of them to leave them under our
bleachers."

Will crossed his arms and stood a little straighter. "Get


it sorted, Sue, or I'll report you. Figgins will cut your
budget if he finds out, so just pay to get it cleared and
we can both call it quits."

Rachel stared hard at her reflection in her bedroom


mirror. "This is utterly ridiculous. I should not be
completely topsy-turvy over such a simple matter.
This is not who I am. I am Rachel. I am focus. I am
poise. I am... I am... I am completely riddled with
doubt and confusion." She closed her eyes, made
fists with her hands and inhaled deeply, but where her
thoughts might form into song, she found no sound.
"Think strength. Think stardom. Think of your future,
Rachel." She tried again. Nothing. "Oh dear," she
sighed and frowned deeply. "I just... don't have it in
me."

[Wednesday]

"Rachel, would you like to take the floor?" Will rubbed


his hands together and moved his chair out of the
way.

"No thank you, Mr Schuester. I'm gonna sit this one


out."

"Are you okay? Do you have laryngitis again?"


"No, no, I'm fine. I just -" she shrugged "- don't feel
like singing."

"Is this a trick?" Quinn asked with a brutal stare.

"No trick," Rachel replied simply.

"We'd really like to hear you sing," Kurt offered up


from the back of the room.

"No, really. I've taken the limelight for too long."


Rachel gave a half-hearted smile. "In fact, this feels a
little weird so I should go. "

Finn piped in. "Is this about the party, 'cause we know
we made a mistake?"

"No, Finn. No, this is me. I think I need something


new to put my energies into, but I'm sure we'll see
each other around. Good luck with Regionals."
Picking up her bag, she slipped out the door with
barely a goodbye.

Quinn chased after her.

"Whoa, did Rachel just leave Glee Club?" asked Finn.

Artie looked around. "Why is everyone surprised?


Rachel not leaving once a week would be more rare."
"What're you doing, Berry?" Quinn lunged forward
and grabbed Rachel by the arm. "Don't you care
about anyone in there?"

"I thought you didn't talk to me anymore." Rachel's


lower lip twitched as she spoke, wrenching herself
away.

"Answer me."

"Of course I do," she belted, her chin shuddering


imperceptibly.

"You think you can make all of us feel guilty by


walking away? Huh? Well you won't. I won't let you.
So get back in there and spend the next five minutes
singing your little heart out on some lame, obscure
showtune. Then everything can get back to normal."
Quinn went to push the door open, but Rachel didn't
move.

Rachel bore her a look of pity. "I love everyone in that


room, Quinn. And I have no wish to submit them to
anything less than a one hundred percent committed
Rachel Berry. I'm not stupid, and I know when I'm
beaten."

"What are you even talking about?"

"I'm done with performing. I need to find something


else, something attainable."
"But it makes you happy." Quinn reached out and
touched Rachel's arm.

"If what happened on Friday night affects me this


much, how am I ever going to make it in the real
world? Eight shows a week doesn't allow for off days."
Rachel crossed her arms and hugged them to her
stomach. "Seeing as we're no longer in the same peer
group, please save a thought for someone who used
to be your equal, before you think to throw that
slushie or steal my notepaper to write an obscene
love letter to the janitor on my behalf." Rachel put out
her hand for Quinn to shake, but she just looked at it.
"Well... see you around, Quinn."

As she walked away, Rachel's arm brushed Quinn's.


'Oh, God,' thought Quinn. 'I think a hundred butterflies
just flew into my stomach and threw up. Or are they
just regular butterflies? Am I looking adoringly at her?
Stop that, Quinn. Get a grip. You are Quinn Fabray,
you are one of the hottest girls in the school, you have
the world at your feet. You are not a fan of Rachel
Berry. You don't care about her at all.'

"I need a coffee drip, stat. Rip open a vein and jack
me up." Sue stumbled into the staff room, grasping
hold of various people's arms so they had no choice
but to ease her down into a chair. She lay her arm
across her eyes and sighed. "Hello? Did you jerks not
hear me? Coffee. Now," she yelped.
"Is everything all right, Sue?" Emma asked, leaning in
a little close, and causing Sue's head to draw back
into her neck.

"It was Debbie Does Dallas meets The Exorcist." Sue


shook her head, her eyes straining to match the
wideness of Emma's. "Poor Becky has had to be
given oxygen; it was all too much for her."

"Did you see a ghost?"

A coffee was shakily pressed into her hand. "A


ghost?" Sue sat up and took a sip. "What are you,
crazy? How do you help people when you yourself
are an emotionally stunted and delusional human
being? No I didn't see a ghost, looney tunes."

"What then?" Emma asked, looking sweetly confused


and tugging at the bow under her chin.

"Rachel -" she gulped down a mouth of bile "- Berry


auditioned for the Cheerios." Sue blinked. "It was the
most offensive thing I have ever seen, and I've seen a
family of inuits play ice hockey with a live seal pup.
That girl is deranged. She needs her own PSA."

"A tryout?" Emma shook her head. "But Rachel is a


very good dancer."

"Be that as it may, she seems to think that


cheerleading is all about pelvic thrusts, star jumps
and some sort of lunge action. I never want to see
that much thigh from a girl of her stature ever again.
Please tell that non-boyfriend of yours that if any other
of his club members try to audition, I'll be signing the
application for a license to carry an air rifle on school
property."

[Thursday]

Rachel closed the office door and sat down without a


word. She was dressed in a gray pinafore dress,
black suit jacket and charcoal patent oxfords. Her hair
was pulled strictly into a tight knot, bangs swept to the
side.

"Good morning, Miss Pillsbury," she said softly.

"Good morning." Emma smiled with a twitch of


concern at the corners of her mouth, taking her seat
opposite.

"I require your help. And I also wish to apologize for


my maltreatment of you before. It was unkind."

"That's all right, Rachel. I wanted to have a word with


you anyway. You seem to have been... going through
a few changes." Emma had expected Rachel to chime
in with comments, but she remained silent. "First
there was the act of disruption in the library for which
you received a detention, however I see from your
records that it was delayed indefinitely. Do you know
why that was?"

"No teachers available, apparently," she replied


demurely.

"Well I've checked and there were... oh..." Emma


stopped in her tracks, realizing that each teacher had
turned down the opportunity to sit quietly in a room
with Rachel Berry for an hour. "I'm sure you've
learned your lesson without such needs for
punishment." Emma licked her lips and took a
considered breath. "Then there is the matter of the
cheerleading try-outs."

"I'm still waiting to hear back from Miss Sylvester on


that score."

"Right..." Emma nodded slowly.

"If I may, I'd like your help with my move into


government. It will enable me to still fulfill my dreams
of mass audiences, but remain emotionally detached."

"Politics, Rachel? I don't -"

"I've heard it worked for other performers. I checked.


There was Ronald Regan, Sonny Bono, and
apparently Governer Schwarzenegger had a career in
acting once. Can't see it myself... he's a little on the
burly side."
"But weren't you -" Emma looked startled as Rachel
raised her hand swiftly.

"Kicked off the debate team for taking sides? Yes, but
my dominant presence could only be seen as an
asset in the world of politics."

"Rachel, I'm a little concerned by the way you pick


and choose from other people's lives and force those
events onto yourself. You've got to choose your own
path, follow your heart, wherever it takes you. Be it to
the moon and back. And please... stop reading
celebrity profiles on Wikipedia."

Sue shut her office door and crossed her arms. "I've
never seen you perform such a dire dismount. I rely
on you Quinn, I need you on the ball, eyes on the
prize. The other girls look up to you." She perched on
the edge of her desk and shook her head.

"I know." Quinn sat up straight, maintaining her poise.


"And I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind. A few...
unwanted thoughts."

"Have you been having the dream where the Pillsbury


Doughboy crushes you to a warm, delicious death?"

"No, thank you; those have gone after the shots you
gave me."
"C'mon, spill those beans. Let loose those inner
demons so we can get you back on form."

"Miss Sylvester." Quinn ran her fingertip over her ear


and coughed. "I seemed to have developed feelings
for... for someone I really shouldn't."

"Who is it? A judge? A religious figure in your


community?" Sue narrowed her eyes. "I thought those
subliminal messages we've been sending over the PA
system might have warped your tiny, throbbing pea
brains. Is there a new craze for sleeping with the
dead?"

"Ew, no. It's someone in this school. A live person."

Sue nodded. "It's perfectly okay. I understand,


Authority is a powerful pheromone. It's natural for you
to be drawn to the one person who you look to for
support. I mean look at you, obviously raised by the
book, full of direction and drive, but never had a
proper dominant figure in your life... until me."

"Coach?" Quinn narrowed her eyes.

"You're completely messed up. Clearly suppressing


trauma over giving up a child, yet you rally through,
pushing the hideous monster that is your guilt, shame
and grief, down into the bile and sputum of your gut. I,
personally, would have gaily shot one of the homeless
to release some of that anger, but you were raised a
different way." Sue tapped her finger on the table in
time with the words of her conjecture. "If I were your
mother, I would have had your ovaries removed pre-
high school and stored cryogenically until such a time
when you felt the need to procreate. I've even sent in
a proposition to the government to have this
procedure put in place in every state. And do you
know why?"

"You... don't like babies?"

"I care, Quinn." Sue held her hand to her heart. "And
that's just one of the reasons why you've got a crush
on me."

"Oh no. I -"

"It's fine," she cracked a cocky smile. "Secret is safe


with me. It's harmless."

"Coach, you're not the one."

Sue turned and coughed, pulling at her sleeves. She


rotated her shoulders and stretched her neck
muscles. "Course. Knew that. Just trying to pave the
way to the truth."

"It's Rachel Berry."

She swiveled on her sneakered heel. "Oh my God. I


see your problem."
"It's like having an allergy. I want be around her but
she makes me itch."

"STDs are serious shizz, m'lady."

"Not literally itch. That's gross."

"Rachel Berry is like a dime store dolly. Sure they're


fun, full of bright, white smiles and echoes of happy
times, but deep down you just wanna rip off her
chewable face and spit down her hollow little neck,"
Sue sneered.

"Little harsh."

"Love is harsh, Miss Fabray."

Quinn swallowed hard. "I didn't say anything about


love; I was talking about hate."

"If it were hate you wouldn't be shy and coy, you'd be


boasting. You know as well as I do that a little hate
makes the world go round. Did you know one in four
high school crushes ends in one party developing
alopecia?" Sue pulled out a pen torch and shone the
light in Quinn's eyes to check her pupillary response.
"Are you sleeping?"

"Not night now." Quinn squinted.


"At night," Sue said impatiently.

"Not much."

"Are you eating your Cheerio protein food


substitutes?"

"Well, no, I'd been a little off food, but -"

Sue sucked in air through her teeth. "Not good,


Fabray. We need to quash these symptoms of
wretched romantic desire. Love is a distraction you
don't need. Now... do you want me to put a hit out on
her? I'm training Becky in archery, and I could be
persuaded to nudge her elbow in the right direction."
Sue clicked her tongue and winked.

"I'd like to sing a lead at Sectionals," Tina said perkily


from the back of the raised seating, only to be
subsequently astonished when everyone agreed that
she should. "Well that's just weird. I'm nervous now."

"Don't be. With Rachel gone we can all be ourselves.


We can relax for once," said Mercedes, raising her
hands and nodding along to a hallelujah in her head.

"Listen to yourselves. Sure Rachel drove herself


forward, sometimes at your cost, but she also raised
your game." Will looked ashamed on behalf of the
group. "You've got to fight for her place here, even if it
means battling with Rachel herself."
"With all due respect, Mr Schue." Artie clasped his
hands together. "If she doesn't want to sing, that's up
to her."

"Do you guys honestly think that Rachel could just


give up performing? Did you ever think that could
happen?" Will frowned with disbelief.

"No way." Finn shook his head. "She always said that
without music, she was nothing."

"There's got to be more to this than meets the eye.


Did anything else happen Friday night? Did
something get said? Done?" Will pushed for answers.
"Come on, guys."

"Uhm, Mr Schue?" Brittany looked around at the sea


of stony faces. "When the lights went out, I think
kissed Rachel."

"What?" Will looked taken aback.

Brittany tipped her head to one side and looked upon


her teacher with pity. "Kissing, Mr Schue? It's like
talking, but with no gap in between your faces; have
you never done it?"

Finn looked around the room, raised his hand and


then timidly spoke. "Actually, I think I kissed Rachel."
Puck nodded. "Me too."

Santana looked up from pulling a thread free from her


mini skirt. "Are you all about to have an 'I'm
Spartacus' moment?"

"You can't all have kissed her. Come on. Who here
kissed someone?" Will asked everyone to raise their
hands.

Everyone apart from Santana, Quinn and Mike raised


their hand. Santana looked incredibly annoyed. "How
was I not aware of this kiss-facing? And how the hell
was I not on the receiving end? Something is wrong in
yo' people's heads." She snapped her fingers and
made a face of discontentment.

Will checked his watch. "Look, I've got to go. Please...


look in your hearts and see what they say. Whatever
happened, you've hurt Rachel. Remember that she's
your friend."
Left alone in the practice room, the group discussed
their situation.

"Is Mr Schue right? Should we try to get her back?"


Tina pulled at her gloves nervously.

"I miss watching her butt," Puck nodded.

"Me too," said Finn, but when Quinn glared at him, he


added: "Sorta, kinda. Aw, hell, yeah, I miss her butt. It
was nice. She was nice."

"There are elements of sparring that I do appreciate


about Rachel," Kurt mused. "And, though it does pain
me to admit it, I enjoy her singing."

"Oh come on, guys. She's baggage we can all lose.


Glee Club is a whole lot better off without Rachel
Berry," Quinn snarled.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Kurt


whispered to Mercedes.

"Methinks, the lady's got a bee up her bee-hind,"


Mercedes whispered back.

"Glee Club is never quite Glee Club without Rachel,"


said Artie. "I miss having someone around who was
even weirder than me."

"Yeah," everyone agreed, resting their chins on their


knuckles.

"She is actually pretty nice to all of us," Tina admitted.


"It's just a shame she always ends up making you feel
like you're a fan who's just begged for her autograph."

"Her clothes are improving," Mercedes nodded.

"There was something wrong with the way she


dresses?" asked Artie, who was wearing blue slacks,
a pink shirt and a zipped-up argyle sweater.

Santana leaned forward. "Quit it. Bored now. You all


know you want Rachel around; just sing her some
dumb song and she'll come crawling back."

"Wait a minute, you want Rachel back, Santana?"


said Kurt, almost agog.

"The chick has attitude, balls and good pipes. And I


don't ever want to be friends with any woman who
isn't at least twenty percent bitch. Don't be limiting
down the number of people in this group I can growl
at."

"Grr," echoed Brittany.

From outside the practice room door, Will watched the


group and smiled.

"Rachel!" Finn spotted her walking down the hallway


and came running after her. "You look, ah..." He
wanted to say 'nice' but instead came out with: "like
you're going to court."

"I have a new direction, Finn, and it's in completely


the opposite direction to New Directions."

"Right, I think I got that." Finn's jaw tightened. "Ahh,


um. Yeah. I wanted to say -" he looked awkward and
twisted about on the spot "- you should come back.
We miss you."

"I hardly think anyone misses me, Finn, though it was


very nice of you to say so."

"They do, and we're sorry about the party."

Rachel patted him on the arm. "I'm a big girl: I can


handle rejection."

"No you can't. It hurts you deep inside; I can see that
in your eyes."

Her cheek twitched. "Honestly, Finn, you'd have me


down as a girl with too much sensitivity."

"Some isn't a bad thing, and I'd be pretty cut up if I'd


been excluded. If you never show people you're hurt,
they'll always treat you the same."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Rachel eyed him curiously.

Finn stepped back a little. "Uh, that did what?"

"Sent Jacob to my house on Friday night."

"Huh?"

[Flash to Friday]

Rachel was sitting on her bed, gently brushing her


hair, when the first noise came. A 'blam', then the
metallic ring of footsteps. Soon followed by the sound
of suppressed yelping.

"What in the..." Rachel said, stepping with trepidation


towards the bedroom window.

"Help," a small restricted voice yelled.

She raised the window and looked down to see Jacob


climbing up a ladder.

"I have my hair caught in your rose bush," he whined.

Running back with a large set of scissors, Rachel


stood on tip-toe and leaned out. Unceremoniously,
she chopped off large chunk of his curly, red hair to
set him free. "Better?"

"Oh my God, my beautiful mane," he said, reaching to


feel the ghost of his previously dome-like head. He
climbed in and fell onto the floor.

Rachel looked at him and said, with sudden


realization as he dusted himself down: "You've come
to peep at me, you, you... peeper." She hit at his sides
and flapped him away. "Get out."

"No, no. I come in peace. I promise. I have a


message for you, my dear woman." Jacob was silent
for a moment and just stood and stared. "Holy..."
"Well?"

"All my Chanukahs come at once," he gulped, looking


briefly upwards in thanks. "What is this you're
wearing?"

"When I feel a little lonely I put on one of my dad's


dress shirts so I don't feel so alone." Rachel raised
her hands, which were covered by low hanging cuffs,
then tugged at the shirt's hem to cover her thighs.

"Which dad?"

"They're both men, Jacob. They can share shirts."


Rachel ran her hands through the length of her hair
then looked up. "Why am I even telling you this, you
pervert?"

"Cool," was all he would be able to utter, lost in


thought.

Rachel crossed her arms and glared. "I thought you


said that you weren't here to letch?"

"I bring a message of a Glee Club party, which I'm not


permitted to attend, but that I am compelled to urge
you to... turn up... at."

Rachel frowned. "And who told you to tell me?"


"I have no idea. I received a message, but I am
promised a crisp ten dollar bill if you go. So please...
go." Jacob rethought his words. "Or we could, y'know,
hang out. Maybe I could de-pants and you could fetch
me one of those shirts too. We could paint each
other's toenails and watch Lindsay Lohan movies, the
old ones, not the new ones."

"Party location, Jacob." Rachel said sternly. "Now."

He began pulling his cell out of his pocket. "Would


you lean over and just pout a little while I take a
picture?"

"Now!"

"When you go, can I use your bed?"

[Thursday]

"Well that explained why Jacob looks like he's fallen


asleep on a buzzsaw table," Finn nodded with
realization.

"So... was it you?" Rachel looked up expectantly at


Finn's tall frame. "Who sent the message?"

"Sorry," he winced . "No."

"Fine. I'm sure it was someone's sick way of letting


me know that my friends let me down anyway." She
went to leave but Finn pulled her round. "What now?"

"Uhm. I wanted to talk to you, about the kiss."

"The kiss," she said timidly. "What do you know about


the kiss?"

"It's just... you kinda lunged for me, and I was


surprised. It was kinda cool."

"I didn't kiss you, Finn, I'm sorry. It must have been
someone else. I didn't lunge at anyone."

"Oh. Well who was it?"

She reached up to pat him on the shoulder . "Looks


like you're going to have to do a little detective work
for that one."

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Finn?"

"Can we be friends?"

"I'd like that... very much." Out of her bag Rachel


pulled a badge and pinned it on Finn's chest. It said:
'Vote Berry.'

"Someone told me detention was being held here?"


Rachel eased open the practice room door.
"Yeah, I said I'd take it. Please... take a seat." Will
beckoned her in.

Rachel sat at the bottom of the tiered seating. "Feels


strange to be in here and not singing." She looked
over at the drum kit and a guitar propped up against a
bookcase of sheet music. "What would you like me to
do? Write an essay?"

"Let's wait for the others, then we can get started."

"Oh, okay. You'll have to excuse my naïveté; this is


my first time. Who knows, maybe I will be able to
rehabilitate some of these ne'er-do-wells and
criminals with kindness, not to mention the power of
my positive aura." Rachel sat up primly.

"Well, let's hope so. But they're not a bad bunch of


kids." There was a knock at the door. "That will be
them now."

The Glee Club members piled in and sat down.

"Oh, no, Mr Schue, I think I should go. This could be


awkward."

"You've got to stay, Rachel. It's your detention time.


And theirs."

"We all agreed to do it. Because we wanted to see


you." Mercedes leaned over and squeezed Rachel's
shoulder; she looked touched.

"We've worked on a little song we wanted to play for


you." Will indicated Rachel. "It's one we can sing with
just drums and guitar, but you'll all be happy to know
that the piano will be back from repairs tomorrow."

"But we haven't raised the money yet." Finn looked


around the room.

Will smiled broadly. "Well, you can thank Mercedes


for that."

"I sold the VIP tickets Rachel got me and bought


regular ones. It seemed like the right thing to do."
Everyone looked at Mercedes with a sort of pity. "I'll
get to be his backing singer one day, anyway," she
shrugged. "Are we gonna sing this song for Rachel or
what? I don't usually sing country but I dig the
message."

Finn made a leap for the drums and began a hushed


beat. Puck and Sam grabbed and began plucking at
their guitars. Everyone else gathered in the center to
face Rachel, and began to sing.

Finn took the lead. "I hope that the days come easy
and the moments pass slow, and each road leads you
where you want to go. And if you're faced with a
choice, and you have to choose, I hope you choose
the one that means the most to you. And if one door
opens to another door closed, I hope you keep on
walkin' 'til you find the window. If it's cold outside,
show the world the warmth of your smile."

"But more than anything, more than anything. My


wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you
want it to. Your dreams stay big, and your worries
stay small. You never need to carry more than you
can hold. And while you're out there getting where
you're getting to. I hope you know somebody loves
you, and wants the same things too. Yeah, this, is my
wish." Rachel coyly tucked hair behind her ear.

"I hope you never look back, but ya never forget. All
the ones who love you, in the place you left. I hope
you always forgive, and you never regret. And you
help somebody every chance you get. Oh, you find
God's grace, in every mistake. And you always give
more than you take."

Puck took over and sat down beside Rachel as he


played his guitar. "But more than anything, yeah, and
more than anything. My wish, for you, is that this life
becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big,
and your worries stay small. You never need to carry
more than you can hold. And while you're out there
getting where you're getting to. I hope you know
somebody loves you, and wants the same things too.
Yeah, this, is my wish."
"My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you
want it to. Your dreams stay big, and your worries
stay small. You never need to carry more than you
can hold. And while you're out there getting where
you're getting to. I hope you know somebody loves
you, and wants the same things too. Yeah, this, is my
wish."

"This is our wish. I hope you know somebody loves


you. May all your dreams stay big."

Will did his traditional 'woop'.

Rachel clapped politely. "Thanks, guys, that was very


sweet. And I appreciate what you're doing. But I'm not
coming back."

"But, why, Rachel?" asked Will with deep concern.

"Because I can't stand how I'm feeling when I'm here.


I can't focus, I can't think. I go home and I can't sleep.
More importantly, I can't sing. I think my time is over.
Music is no longer taking up one hundred percent of
my energies."

"You just sound like a normal kid to me. Music doesn't


have to be an all or nothing thing." Will called her over
and spoke to her at a level inaudible to the others.
"Rachel, Brittany thinks she kissed you at the party."

"No, Mr Schue. I was kissed, but whoever did it... I


think they did it to hurt me. Maybe the same person
who let me know to come here that night. It's been
driving me crazy."

"You know who it was, don't you?" He frowned.

"Maybe. I don't know." She shook her head.

"We need to sort this mess out." He looked back up to


the group. "Guys, I want whoever kissed Rachel to
admit it. Rachel said it wasn't Brittany."

"Mr Schue," Rachel tugged at his sleeve. "Don't.


Please."

"It's the only way, Rachel."

Everyone looked at each other nervously.

"Come on guys, you all must know who you kissed."


Will crossed his ams.

"It was dark," Tina shrugged.

"Or you all won't admit it."

"Mr Schue?" Finn raised his hand. "I for one would
really like to know what happened and I have an
idea."

"This is stupid," Quinn said petulantly, standing in


exactly the same spot she had been when the lights
had gone on Friday.

"Okay, I'll get the switch, and you all just move in the
direction you did that night."

They called out in agreement and were plunged into


darkness.

"I can't hear movement," Will coughed, and


begrudgingly the shuffling began.

"Crap, stuff this." Santana stomped her foot.

"Okay, now shake hands with the person you kissed,


people. Ready?" The lights flicked on.

Santana had Mike crushed up against the wall and


was kissing his neck. He looked down at her, slightly
bemused. "I'm not missing out this time," she said as
she took a breath.

Will looked around the room. Puck and Sam were


standing facing each other and appeared to be frozen
to the spot.

"Dude, your lips are like chick's ones," Puck said with
a grimace.

"You can't blame me; yours are like little pillows and
you have really soft skin."
"Thank you." They both smiled and then looked like
they were going to vomit.

Over by the piano, Finn stood with Brittany's legs


wrapped around his waist.

"You taste like beef jerky," Brittany blushed. "I like it,"
she whispered into his ear.

"Thanks." Finn smiled widely until a disapproving look


from Will caused him to lower Brittany to her feet.

Artie's eyes we're still closed, so Tina, who was sitting


on his lap, tapped on his nose. "Hey, there, you."

"I've missed you ," he said soothingly.

Kurt leaned over and kissed Mercedes on the nose. "I


didn't want you to feel left out on your birthday."

"Aw Kurt, you're sweet. I just hope you're the only gay
guy I kiss in my lifetime."

"And, of course, I hope for the opposite," he smirked.

Brittany cocked her head to one side and looked at


Kurt curiously. "You only want to kiss gay girls?"

Nearer the door, Rachel stood, arms at her sides, and


breathed deeply, suppressing tears. "Why -" she
asked plainly "- when it's clear how I feel, would you
break my heart like that?"

"I'm sorry," Quinn said breathily.

Rachel covered her face with her hands and ran from
the room.

"Finn. Finn. Finn." Puck slapped him in the back of the


head. "Dude, are you dead or just comatose?"

"This is so weird. Do things like this actually happen?


Do exes get together?" Finn looked puzzled.

"Only in my dreams, but then they start kissing me


too." He looked thoughtful. "I'm so glad I got the
janitor to kill the lights."

"You sure 'bout that?" said Sam.

"Quinn, are you okay? You look like you're in shock."


Will grabbed her by the shoulders and planted her
down on the piano seat. "I'm sure it was an accident;
you thought she was someone else. Just find her and
explain."

"No," she dismissed.

"Come on, Quinn, she thinks you did it to hurt her."

Quinn hugged her waist. "I did it because it hurt too


much not to kiss her."

Everyone looked shocked.

"I don't get it myself; if I should be crushing on a


woman it should be Santana."

"Hey," said Brittany with an exaggerated pout.

"Sorry Brittany, blonde on blonde cheerleader is way


too creepy guy pervy fodder. See." Without even
looking up, Quinn thrust out her hand in Puck's
direction to indicate his almost-drooling expression of
day-dreaming pleasure.

Finn spoke up: "Quinn, you have to find her and tell
her."

"I don't even know where to look."

"If you were Rachel, where would you go?" Kurt


raised an eyebrow.

Rachel stood on the auditorium stage and sang her


heart out. "It's in your eyes, feelings can't be
disguised, 'cause the truth makes me want you to tell
me lies. My biggest fear is crying oceans of tears. I
would rather you not be so sincere. How cold could
you be? What would you do if you were me? I'm
better off if it's a mystery." Rachel shook her head and
made fists with her hands. "'Cause I don't wanna
know. If I kissed your lips for the last time. Please
don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's not goodbye and
do this one thing for me. Make up some stupid story
tonight. It's all right, keep your truth and tell me lies."

"Something's not right, love is nowhere in sight. I'm


not ready to let go, it's not time. How cruel could you
be? Don't say it's through, least not to me. I'm better
off, leave it a mystery." She squeezed shut her eyes
and when she opened them, Quinn was crossing the
floor towards her, singing along. "'Cause I don't
wanna know if I kissed your lips for the last time.
Please don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's not
goodbye. And do this one thing for me. Make up
some stupid story tonight. It's all right; keep your truth
and tell me lies. Don't tell me you're leaving. There's
only so much I can take. It's easier if you're faking."
Quinn took Rachel's hand in hers and pulled her
around. Rachel stopped singing, a lump forming in
her throat, but Quinn continued.

"'Cause I don't wanna know if I kissed your lips for the


last time. Please don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's
not goodbye. And do this one thing for me. Make up
some stupid story. Can we keep pretending?" Quinn
touched Rachel's cheek. "This is not the ending
tonight. It's all right; keep your truth and tell me lies."

They rested their foreheads together. "Tell me, tell


me, tell me lies."
"I don't understand," Rachel frowned.

"I can't say the things I want to say, because they


sound so wrong coming out of my mouth." Quinn
looked down briefly.

"Say the opposite, then."

"I really, really... hate you."

"I... hate you too." Rachel's look went from soft to


giddy. "Would you like to sing 'What Is This Feeling?'
from Wicked? The parodical nature, romantic
connotation combined with the loathing element
would be very suitable for this occasion."

"No," replied Quinn, moving to stand with her hands


behind her back.

Rachel still looked hopeful. "Does that mean...?"

"No."

"Oh," she uttered, her cheek twitching.

"I'm sorry for sending Jacob to your house," Quinn bit


her lip.

"It's okay. Though I may have to get bars fitted on my


window. And get a taser." Rachel frowned. "Should
we go back to fighting?
"I'd rather not."

Rachel looked highly dejected. "Okay. I understand."

"I don't." Quinn looked perturbed, almost angry. "I


shouldn't want you in my life. I'm supposed to work
my way through the football team until one guys
sticks. Then I get married and get a job in fashion.
This isn't who I am. This isn't the path I'm supposed to
follow."

"We're both unique. Maybe we don't have a


designated path, unless it's one we choose ourselves.
Maybe the logical choices aren't always the right
ones," Rachel explained.

Quinn nodded, shrugged and bit her bottom lip.


"Okay... let's just try this, because I can't do with any
more weird dreams." Rachel looked at her with
questioning eyes. "Never mind. Though if you get me
to sing 'Don't Cry Out Loud' in my sleep ever again, I
may have to switch schools."

"Huh?" Rachel uttered sweetly. "That song is far


better suited to my voice. I'd never request for you to
sing it. There's no powerhouse ability in your voice."

"Shut up, Berry," said Quinn suddenly, stunning


Rachel into silence. "I... want to try with the lights on."
They leaned in and kissed; Rachel's knees buckled a
little as they sank into each other's arms. "Mm, yes, I
hate logic," Quinn said as she pulled away
momentarily.

"Definitely," Rachel replied as she tugged at Quinn's


waist. "However, I still believe, logically, I would be a
more appropriate songstress for belting out a ballad
such as -"

Quinn decided to stop the conversation by removing


the gap between them as she pulled Rachel in for
another tender, yet eager kiss.

[Next time on Glee. ]

"Somebody, please stop this carousel of insanity,"


Sue screamed. "I wish to dismount my metaphorical
plastic stallion."

[Prepare for competition of a lifetime... as the


Cheerios go head to head with their rivals in a thrilling
showdown .]

"Grab that o -b-l . Now dot that i . And grab that t-e-r-
a-t-e ," the Lima AllStars cheered.

"How about you grab a clue?" Santana waved her


finger at the group. "We are going to destroy you."

[Finn and Brittany go on a date and end up locked in


the back of a truck headed for Atlanta. ]
"I've always wanted to visit an underwater city," said
Brittany as she snuggled into Finn's side.

"Oh my God, me too," Finn beamed.

[After Rachel and Quinn made up by making out, they


have trouble adjusting to their new roles.]

"And I thought I was controlling," Rachel sneered.

"Hah. When you could barely control your butt into


those jeans," Quinn retorted.

Rachel checked her watch. "Oh, gotta go, ttylb." She


stood on tip toe to kiss Quinn, who was left smiling
serenely.

[Glee will knock your socks off.]

"Whoa," breathed Puck.

[You just have to tune in and tune up.]

Mercedes stood with her hands on her hips and said,


incredulously: "You did a what in the what now and
where and with whom?"

Title: Totally Cyranoed


Author: Claire G
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn, Finn/Brittany,
Brittany/angst/Santana, Will/Terri
Word count: 19,663
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are the property of
Fox. No infringement intended.
Plot: Another episode! Sequel to 'Uninvited'. Spoilers
up to Rocky Horror. Santana is having a bad week.
With Puck in tow, she plays a prank she'll soon regret.
Rachel rejects Quinn! Both girls seek advice, but is it
what they really want to hear and will they listen? The
Cheerios are challenged. Will and Sue are shocked to
find the opposing team led by a familiar face.
Songs featured: Grease - There Are Worse Things I
Could Do, Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time, Owl City -
Fireflies, Michael Jackson - Man In The Mirror,
Lifehouse - Whatever It Takes

[So here's what you missed last week.]

[Rachel started acting strangely, then left Glee club.]

"I just -" Rachel shrugged "- don't feel like singing."

[Finn and Brittany got a little closer.]

Finn stood with Brittany's legs wrapped around his


waist. "You taste like beef jerky." Brittany blushed. "I
like it."

[Nearly everyone believed they'd kissed Rachel


during the party blackout.]
Santana looked up. "Are you all about to have an 'I'm
Spartacus' moment?"

[But in fact it was just one, rather unexpected,


person.]

Quinn nodded, shrugged and bit her bottom lip.

[And that's what you missed on Glee.]

[Wednesday]

'When Jean-Paul Sartre said that hell is being locked


in a room with your friends, he was, like, so totally
right,' Santana thought, wanting to take a swipe at
one of the youngest cheerleaders who was sticking
her tongue out tauntingly. 'Except replace 'room' with
'high school' and 'your friends' with 'an army of gross
and idiotic teenagers, a few actual friends, and a
bunch of totalitarian teachers. The person we become
in these formative years defines who we are in life.
Problem is, what molds us right now is that which is
forced upon us as we are pushed and knocked into
shape by the opinions and expectations of our peers.
Their judgements and rejections lay our path to
misery and create our private hell. It's survival of the
fittest: eat or be eaten. Every day is spent predicting
which way the dice will fall. Every choice is a battle,
and if you choose the wrong side, you're done for.
Anyone who says that you can be whoever you want
to be, is lying.' As part of this training session, all the
cheerleaders had been suspended with bended
knees over the horizontal bars. Santana felt the blood
flush to her cheeks as she became increasingly light-
headed. One of the girls threw up, which is hard to do
in that position, and vomit appeared to go up her
nose. It was usually around halfway through practice
that the dry retching began; today was no exception.
'Especially in high school.'

With a click, Coach Sylvester depressed the trigger


on her loudspeaker and bent over gently. "Lopez!"
she yelled, directly into Santana's ear, causing distinct
aural pain. "Cease your inane, mind-numbing mullings
and wide-eyed wall staring. I want no distracting
thoughts about boys or the mall, or whatever you
underlings daydream about. It's not like you're
fathoming eternal verities, now is it? Ha." Sue laughed
heartily. "Empty heads equal full trophy cabinets, ya
hear? Give me a smile full of starlight and shimmering
tinkerbell butts and glue it directly to those lips," she
enthused. "Let the blood drain to your faces. We want
a permanent blush on those cheeks. Think Raggedy
Ann; a simple idol who just happens to share my
excellent stance on smallpox vaccinations. We sure
as hell could do with a small, ravaging plague to weed
out the weak." She snapped her fingers and one of
the smallest girls immediately began sobbing. "Think
innocence. Think virginal." Upon noticing Santana's
expression of contempt, she added: "Lopez, do I have
to threaten you with cochineal cheek injections once
again?"
Santana begrudgingly pinched her cheeks, grimaced
and strained to force a toothy grin. From her reverse
position, she watched Sue's upside-down figure walk
away and found herself doing exactly the same as her
counterpart had done earlier: sticking her tongue out
at her superior. Or at least, she would have done, if
she hadn't relaxed her leg muscles and slipped. She
fell and, with a sickening crack, landed awkwardly on
the gym mat beneath her. From her position on the
floor she looked up at the rest of the cheerleaders, all
hanging bat-like. They all giggled at her and for the
fourth time that day, she stifled what would have been
a very loud, frustrated scream.

"Shouldn't you be at Cheerio practice?" Rachel asked


with a puzzled look on her face as she tipped her
head down and looked up at Quinn through her
eyelashes.

"No, I remembered to wear extra blusher today, so I


got out of it," Quinn replied smugly, her rosy cheeks
rising as she smiled widely.

"I fail to see -"

"Trust me, you don't want to know the lengths Coach


Sylvester goes to in order to have us looking like the
perfect cheerleaders. She's one tiny, psychotic step
away from having everyone's eyebrows tattooed on,
just to make us more symmetrical." Quinn raised one
already perfect eyebrow.

"Quinn, please, we're in the public eye," Rachel


chided under her breath.

Quinn looked down and checked her posture,


pondered the considerable distance between them
and wondered what the hell Rachel was talking about.
"Uh, I'm just standing here."

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically. "The very fact


that you haven't picked a fight with me, haven't even
implied that I have a supplementary Y chromosome or
a subscription to 'Unwanted Hair Removal Weekly',
suggests to the daily hallway dwellers that you are at
ease in my presence," she said quickly, but clearly.

Frowning, Quinn shook her head. "And your point is?"

"People will be suspicious," Rachel whispered


conspiratorially.

"Well if you keep doing that, they will be. Look, if we're
going to do this... whatever this is, then they're gonna
have to get used to me talking to you. And I say that
despite quite liking the idea of putting on a show of
hate toward you once a day." Rachel's cheek twitched
and Quinn suddenly felt guilty. "Look, I don't really
want to do that." Her eyelashes fluttered. "You never
know, dating a cheerleader might make you popular."
"I'd rather not be."

"What?" Quinn scoffed.

"I'm fine as I am, thank you." Rachel pouted sternly


and hugged her arms around her waist as she went to
walk away.

"Hey." Quinn snatched at her arm. "I made the


decision that we could be together. That my... weird
attraction to you... was okay. So stop whining and ask
me out. It's been almost a week now."

"I'd still rather not, if it's all the same to you. So don't
expect to receive any overtures from myself, musical
or otherwise," Rachel rebuffed.

"You're kidding me, right? This is a joke, yes?"


Quinn's smile turned to a scowl. "I admitted to the
whole of the Glee Club that I don't hate you, and
suddenly you turn your back on me?"

"I haven't exactly had the biggest say in all this. You
carelessly laid one on me without any regard for my
feelings. Then you did it again, and again. I didn't get
a choice and now I'm expected to fall at your feet?
Yes, sure, you distinctly bamboozled me with your lips
a few times, that's all. I didn't sign a contract to date
one Ms Fabray."

"But... do you know who I am? I could have anyone."


"Do you know who I am, Quinn?"

"You're the girl who couldn't sleep or sing after I


kissed you." She tried to speak gently but her reply
came out with an agitated hiss. "It speaks for itself."

"Yes, true, but I'm also the girl you vilified and
mentally lambasted for years, made cry with your
harsh, hushed words and cruel actions, someone who
still thinks that you might be doing this just to
humiliate her."

"I..."

"You think that anything you want will just float into
your arms when you desire it? We don't all wake to a
chorus of larks, followed by a flurry of woodland
creatures entering through the window, dressing you
and braiding your hair." Rachel waved vaguely at
Quinn's perfect hair and make-up.

"You think my life's a fairy tale, Berry? You could not


be more wrong."

"Quit now, Quinn, because I'm not listening." Rachel


stormed away, leaving Quinn agog.

"That was great," Puck enthused like a film director,


yanking Rachel from the hall into an empty
classroom.
"Are you sure about this?" Rachel rubbed at her
temple. "I'd already planned dinner, a show, a boat
ride and fireworks for Friday."

"Sure I'm sure." He pulled his shoulders up


confidently and raised his hands. "Wait, boat ride?"
He blinked with surprised but continued undeterred. "I
have a lot of experience with dating bitches."

"Hey," Rachel protested.

"I didn't exactly date you; we just made out."

"Hmm." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Well I don't remember you taking me on any boat


rides." He pouted. "I might have liked a boat ride and
fireworks. Well a ride and fireworks, anyway." If Puck
could have hi-fived himself, he would have. "Listen
carefully and I'll tell you my golden rules, Ray-Bay."

Rachel looked touched. "You gave me a moniker."

Puck winced and stepped back. "Sorry, I didn't mean


to."

"A nickname. You gave me a nickname, and a non-


derogatory one as far as I can tell. "

He shrugged and continued. "Puck's three rules to


bagging the babes."

"Why is this so important to you, Noah?"

Puck wrinkled his nose. "Can you not call me that


while we're alone? You sound like my hot cousin."
Rachel squinted at him suspiciously. "Not blood
related. She's my hot cousin's wife. I mean my she's
my cousin's hot wife. Hey, you see what you've done
to my mind just by calling me by my given name?" He
shook his head to re-order his thoughts. "Back to the
lesson, my young padawan. Rule one. Avoid physical
contact. Though it pains me to suggest it, because I
really wanna see it, you totally shouldn't let her kiss or
touch you again." His attention strayed for a moment
as he licked his lips. "Uh... until you've got her
whipped. Rule two. Be hot but be cool. She's got to
want you more than you want her."

Rachel coughed. "You didn't answer my question."

Puck held his hand to his chest. "Why can't you see
that I just want my girls to be happy?"

"Because it's not true," she said matter-of-factly.

He smiled cheekily. "I would never stand in the way of


a hot hook-up."

"And that's what Quinn and I would be? A hot hook-


up? I can't envisage it myself. The thought of us
together is somewhat... odd."

Puck squinted at her. "You know you're equally as hot


as Quinn Fabray, right? In a totally different way but
it's so good."

She blushed distinctly. "There is no need to smooth


over my lately bruised ego, Noa...Puck. I am what I
am. A small town Jewish girl who will one day wow
crowds with her blissful ballads and emotion-evoking
performances."

"Does that mean you're coming back to Glee Club?"


he asked hopefully, then secretly chastized himself for
his childish enthusiasm.

"Not necessarily. I have decided that I mustn't let


emotion overwhelm my life and that I need to remain
focused. Part of that means distance. And after I sang
with Quinn -"

"You sang with Quinn? That's kind of huge."

"Mm," Rachel mused. "I can't believe I'm asking this,"


she sighed. "But what's your third rule?"

He smiled broadly. "Don't let the bitches get you


down."

"Well, needless to say, I've been practicing that one


for years." She patted him kindly on the arm, unsure
of whether to follow his dubious advice or not. "Thank
you anyway."

He shrugged and pursed his lips, hands deep in his


pockets. "Since my spell in juvie I'm trying to use my
badass powers for good instead of evil. I'm gonna
start looking out for my exes as well as my current
honeys."

"Plural?" Rachel cocked an eyebrow.

"Who's she? Is she new?" he frowned.

"Never mind."

"Santana, how can I explain this to your undersized


walnut of a brain?" Sue ran her fingers over her lips.
"If you were a 1950s cartoon character, you would be
named 'Liability Lopez', your story being that of a
Puerto Rican clown who constantly trips over her
comedically-oversized feet. You're out. Now take your
ineffectual, broken carcass out of my sight." Sue
slipped her glasses on and looked down her nose at
the Cheerios' former second in command. "Scoot."

"It's just a tiny fracture." Santana held up her wrist,


which was now clad in a neatly-molded cast. She'd
spent most of the morning in the ER with Principal
Figgins, who'd regarded it as a field trip and paid for a
full body x-ray of himself posing like Elvis.
"Can you support the body weight of two mid-height
girls in a double scorpion?" Sue asked rhetorically.
"Let's face it, a handstand would cripple you. The
break will take a number of weeks to heal and during
that time, your muscles will wither and atrophy. You'll
probably become obese having eaten nothing but
chips for a month and no one will want to look at you
and your crevice sores. Then comes physio and you'll
already have missed competitions. To put it kindly,
you are dead to me."

"You can't kick me off the squad," Santana begged


with passion her undamaged hand on her heart. "I
need to be in the Cheerios. Without it, I'm just a
regular loser kid that no one will care about."

"Enough of this vile display of prostration," Sue


declared as she raised her hands. "Save it for your
first court appearance. I'm sure you'll have a few now
that your once glittering career is tarnished and torn to
shreds. You should have thought about all this before
you chose to fall; did you never consider that? Did
you think of me? No. And right now my discomfiture is
reaching its peak and giving me vile gas." Santana
grimaced as Sue squirmed in her seat. "The Cheerios
have lost a cheerleader... again. My, my. If my skin
we'rent so moist and taut, this would have given me
wrinkles. What am I to do? You can't make a human
pyramid without an equilateral triangle . I'm going to
have to sub in Monica; she's short for her age so I'll
have to dust off the iron maiden for a little stretching
session. That's my Saturday night down the pan; no
more monster truck rally for poor little Sue here.
You've let everyone down with your foolhardiness. My
God, haven't you heard of tuck and roll? Don' t they
teach you even basic paramilitary training in
kindergarten these days ? They did in mine, but then
that did take place in a bunker on an island off the
coast of Papua New Guinea. I could kill and gut a
tiger by the time I was in short trousers." Santana
looked at Sue, completely baffled. "Good times. Good
times," Sue mused, eyes skyward and nostrils flaring,
as she recalled herself, age two, using a dead
echidna for a hat. "Why are you still here, Lopez?"

"I'm sorry." Santana swallowed a sob and blew her


nose loudly into a tissue.

Sue held up her hands. "Please. Stop. Your heavy-


hearted girl sighs are depleting my precious oxygen; I
don't have it bottled and piped in by Peruvian monks
for just anyone to consume." She glared menacingly.
"And your snivelling is making more of a mess of that
uniform than a three-year-old with a mucus-based,
nose-bubble cold. As soon as this meeting is over, I
expect you to hand in your complete uniform to
Becky, who will bring it to me for a ritual burning. Feel
free to take as you please from the lost and found
box; find yourself a nice pair of soiled sweat pants
and a matching sweater. I couldn't tell you who has
worn those clothes during the numerous decades
they have resided here, but, a little advice: I wouldn't
stroll anywhere near a UV lamp or naked flame."

Santana's brow furrowed even more as she


contemplated this. Her uniform was eighty percent of
her status around the school. It was the reason they
all wore them so often. The look offered the Cheerios
protection, instant notoriety and, consequently,
popularity. Without it, she would just be part of the
crowd. "What can I do? Please, Coach. I beg you."
She clutched at her skirt; it had been part of her life
for so long, it was as important as the blankie she had
as a baby.

"You know the score; you signed the agreement when


you join ed up." Sue held aloft Santana's paperwork
and sniffed the pages. "The blood in this signatur e
still smells as fresh as the day it was spilled ." She
dragged her finger across the typed print and read
aloud. "'Should any member of the team suffer injury,
the coach will have full rights to not only disengage
their services, but also shun them from polite
society'."

"I could... I could sing like Kurt and Mercedes did."

"Oh! Of course!" Sue grinned widely and raised her


arms to the air in a hallelujah. "And we could make a
mini Lopez puppet complete with cute teeny pom-
poms to conceal your arm cast there."

"Yes." Santana nodded keenly.


Sue's smile dropped. "This is cheerleading, not an
audition for Avenue fricken Q."

Her shoulders fell. "There's got to be a way, Coach."

Sue licked her lips. "Never let it be said that I'm not a
fair woman. After all, I did win Ohio's Philanthropist of
the Year in 2001 for my work re-settling depressed
Japanese fishmongers in a disused aqua theme
park." She removed her glasses and placed them on
the table. "I may have a job for you until the break is
healed, but screw it up and you'll be out."

"Anything, Coach." Santana sat forward keenly. "If I'm


not a Cheerio, I may as well be dead."

Sue pouted and nodded. "Yup. Nought but the gutter


would await should you fail to meet my exacting
standards. It's true that I once envisioned you growing
up to be part of the Senate, but should you mess this
up, your aspirations will have to lie in simply banging
one of the senatorial candidates after a series of
clichéd but hilarious mishaps not dissimilar to those in
the movie 'Maid in Manhattan'. Now, please take
yourself, and that dreadful reminder of failure, out of
my office. And don't let me down, because, don't
forget: I have your DNA," she called, tapping at the
blood stained page. "One more mistake and I will
clone you and destroy the original. "
[Thursday]

Mercedes stood in the hall with her hands on her hips


and said, incredulously: "You did a what in the what
now and where and with whom?"

"Kissed Rachel... again, after I found her in the


auditorium on stage." Quinn indicated with her hands
to keep the volume down.

"I heard you the first time; I'm astonished, not deaf,"
she said bluntly. "What did you think you were doing?
Kissing her was what sent Rachel all weird in the first
place. Now she'll never come back to Glee. "

"We get on okay, don't we? You and I," Quinn said
quietly, rubbing at her white-sleeved arm.

"Sure we do, or I would never have taken you into my


home last year," Mercedes shrugged.

"I... I think I like her. Rachel I m ean. "

Mercedes pouted. "You can put your legs in the


sleeves of a shirt but that don't make it pants."

"Uhm. What?" She shook her head with delicate


bemusement, thinking that, surely, given a large
enough shirt and a sewing machine it could certainly
become a pair of pants, or a dress, or a tent, or
anything for that matter.
"You can't just flip from hating the girl to liking her.
How is she ever gonna trust you? Especially after the
whole Jesse thing. Sure the rest of us all rail on
Rachel sometimes because she gets on our nerves.
But with you... it aways seemed a lot more personal."

"It's high school: the popular kids pick on the


unpopular ones."

"Yeah, I get that. But sometimes ... when you've got


your little, whispery speaking voice, you lean in and
call her names that no one else can hear. Teasing
someone for public status is one thing, but when no
one else can hear... that's when you know it's
personal. "

"She did steal Finn from me."

"Oh come on, girl, are you still clutching onto that
scrawny little straw? You slept with Puck, remember?
Why don't you take responsibility for that for one?"

"You have to admit that she did use her assets to


seduce him into a relationship, albeit an asexual one,"
Quinn protested.

"Oh, purlease. You say po-ta-to, I say pot-kettle-


black . Mm?" Mercedes wagged her finger.

Quinn sighed, her shoulders slumping. "How is this


ever going to work? She and I are so different."

Mercedes blew air through her pursed lips. "Pft. You


guys are like two sides of the same coin. You're both
outspoken, self-obsessed, would step over your own
grandmothers to get ahead..."

"That's unfair; we're both just a couple of regular girls,


who don't like being stepped on."

"Yeah, that too -" Mercedes smiled widely, her point


made by Quinn's own admission "- and don't you
forget it."

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "So what do I do?"

"If you want her, how about you start by making


amends? Level that playing field." Mercedes grinned
deviously, then laughed heartily. "But you, girl, are so
not gonna like what I'm gonna suggest."

Quinn purposefully marched down the hall, a large


Big Gulp slushie firm in her grasp. Rachel's eyes
widened and then closed dramatically as she braced
for impact. Instead, she felt the cup being wedged into
her hand and, when she looked, she found Quinn
standing stock still with arms at her sides, eyes tight
shut and fists balled.

"Come on, get it done," Quinn pursed her lips and


beckoned with her hand. "Pay me back already."
Rachel was torn; she resented being forced into the
situation. She imagined that Quinn expected her to
not to proceed, to be the bigger person. Her fingertips
were getting cold, and a burning deep inside her belly
was urging for revenge. Angrily, she jerked her hand
forward. Quinn gasped with expectation, but Rachel,
not being familiar with the best slushie action, pulled
the cup back too soon and caused only a third of the
icy liquid to rise up like a wave and tumble directly
onto the floor between them. It splatted, speckling
their shoes and peppering Rachel's knee-high socks
with pink coloring. With a shudder of a sob, Rachel
turned and fled, not even daring to look Quinn in the
eye and ran straight into the arms of Kurt.

"Hey, Tweetie Pie, let's get you out of here," he


muttered softly into her hair as he gently rubbed her
back.

"So, what caused your little premature dysfunction?"


Kurt sat Rachel down in the practice room and pulled
up a chair to sit opposite her, patting the back of her
hand. "Like her a little too much to exact your
revenge?" he joked, not realizing how close to the
truth he was.

"No, it's just..." A slow start became a rapid end. "It


was my first time and my arm got stiff ."

Kurt blinked and pulled at his ear lobe. "We are still
talking about the slushie incident, are we not?"

"What?" Rachel frowned then made a face of


realization. "Horror! Quinn has kissed me, but I hadn't
even contemplated... contemplated... uh..."

"Touching anything further than first base?"

"Thank you, yes." She swept her hair out of her eyes
and sat up primly.

"Suits me." He pinched the air. "I have no desire to


embark on a mentally-stunting guide to Lesbianism:
The Hate Way. Besides, my expertise in dating
women ends at: 'Excuse me, would you mind
moving? I'd like to get a clearer view of our waiter'."

Rachel smirked. "You should come round to dinner at


my house some time."

"Don't you despise me?" He tilted his head to one


side as he raised an eyebrow.

Rachel's bottom lip twitched. "Only in the same way a


big sister despises her bratty brother."

Kurt's expression glazed with emotion for a fraction of


a second. Her sentiment clear was to him. "I feel the
same about you. We are somewhat kindred. Given
another time, another situation, you could have been
the Diana to my Anne of Green Gables."
Rachel smiled, deciding not to argue over a fictional
lead role. "My dads have been asking to meet you,
probably to, y'know, pass on their sage advice."

"Wh-? Oh." Kurt raised a finger in the air. "Sometimes


I completely forget you have gay parents."

"Sometimes I completely forget to remember that my


parents are gay. To me they're just two loving people,
who both happen to be men."

A smile twitched at the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Good


to know. And thank you, I'd very much like to take you
up on that some time." He reached over to tenderly
pat her knee. "Feeling any better?"

"A little, thank you," she sighed.

"Want some advice?"

"Providing it's not another makeover, I will listen and


consider."

"Makeover? No, no. Anyway, Quinn clearly wants you


despite your... apparel or style. God that seems like a
weird thing to be saying. It is a weird thing to be
saying, isn't it?"

"Totally weird. I mean not about her liking me despite


my dress sense, which, by the way, there is nothing
wrong with, but that she likes me at all."

"Don't let her win," Kurt said suddenly.

"What?" Rachel frowned.

"Don't let her win your heart. Don't let her just take
what she wants. I've nothing against Quinn, but she's
got to learn that she can't just make you like her just
like that." He snapped his fingers abruptly. "I mean,"
he chuckled, "how can she expect you just to fall for
her at the drop of a pom-pom? It's absurd. Ridiculous
even. Don't give credit to her intentions."

"But I -"

Kurt tapped Rachel on the nose. "Quinn Fabray has


to learn that not everyone will succumb to her
bewitching wiles and glimmering smile."

Santana stormed through the door to the choir room


and let out a loud scream. Her bag hit the back wall
and burst open. Kurt, Tina and Artie stared in fear,
while she stamped the floor repeatedly with alternate
feet, then took her place and neatly crossed her legs,
a stern expression still fixed on her face. Brushing
imaginary dust from her pleated skirt, she sat poised
as though nothing had happened.

"Jiminy Cricket's dapper pyjamas," Kurt exclaimed


under his breath.
Artie nudged at Tina's skull'n'crossbones-socked knee
with his gloved hand. "You're a girl -" he whispered "-
go and ask her what's wrong."

Tina looked perturbed and coughed into her hand.


Nervously fiddling with her necklace, she jumped a
few seats to her right so that she was shoulder to
shoulder with Santana. "Hey, can -" She felt hands
grab hold of her and pull her sharply around. Eyes
wide, she expected Santana to strangle her, but
realized almost immediately that the embrace was
merely a hug. "Oh, hey," she muttered as she put her
arms around Santana's back and rubbed soothingly.
"It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll help."

"Jeez, girl, how do you get close to any guy with that
buckaneer-bondage outfit on? Your corset clips are
leaving permanent dents in my ribcage." They pulled
apart.

"Is this about Finn?" Tina asked nicely. "After it all


came out about you having taken's Finn's, y'know, uh,
cherry, we all wondered if you wanted him for
yourself. I mean ... Brittany was Artie's first and I still
worry that she'll come after him."

"Oh come on, Brittany was everyone's first," Santana


said bitingly. Everyone looked bemused at her
outburst. "Forget it."
"But..." Tina began.

"Forget it," she repeated icily.

Quinn breezed in through the door. "San..." She sank


down into the chair at Santana's right hand side. "I'm
so sorry. I heard."

Kurt raised his hand. "I'm sorry, I must be blunt. What


the hell has happened that could cause quite this
much hysteria? Did Puck steal your spankies again?"

"He did what?" Santana looked entirely pissed off,


clearly unaware of the crime having taken place.
"That boy is dead."

"Tell them: it will come out sooner or later," Quinn said


quietly with an air of mollification.

Santana tried to cross her arms but the cast got in the
way. "I cannot deal with this crap," she yelled.

"We could guess instead. Um... pregnant?" asked


Artie.

"Straight?" Kurt snickered.

"Accidentally posted semi-naked pictures of yourself


on Facebook when you thought you were posting
pictures of your cat massaging your other cat, then
had to tell your parents that you were hacked and the
pictures were, like, totally photoshopped?" Tina
offered only to receive stares from around the room
that were even more perplexed than before. "What?"

"Fine." Santana jumped to her feet and turned on the


heel of her perfectly white sneakers. "It's just the little
matter that, having smashed my wrist, my career is
now in jeopardy and Coach Sylvester has, in her
infinitely delusional wisdom, decided that I should
take over the role of William McKinley High
School's..." She swallowed. "I can barely say it...
football mascot."

"Ha!" Kurt laughed loudly. "I'm sorry, that was


supposed to be an internal scoff; I completely
apologize." He semi-composed himself by biting the
insides of his cheeks. "How awful for you... to have to
dress up as a giant, squashy, cuddly... bulldog." It
was almost impossible to prevent his smile from
widening; his face turned pink in the process.

"Step any further out of line and I will rip out your
voice box, Hummel," Santana shouted, suddenly held
back from her imminent pounce by Quinn's hand
pressing firmly on her stomach.

"Might be a little hard," said Kurt. "Your big, padded


paws will get in the way. I'll merely receive a nice,
warm massage. Please direct your attentions to my
left scapula," he indicated over his shoulder, "I tend to
get a little knotty around that area."
"So what happened to the previous tenant of the
mascot suit?" asked Artie, attempting to diffuse the
impending hair-pulling fight that Santana and Kurt
were about to have.

"Brett got scabies after he broke into the zoo and rode
a gorilla for a dare," Tina explained with a grimace as
she pulled her long sleeves over her hands. "It's okay,
though. I don't think he wore the suit after the itching
started... or did he?" She frowned.

"Hey, guys!" Finn bounced through the door,


backpack on his shoulder. "Isn't it a wonderful day?"

Puck, Sam and Mike followed close behind. "Dudes


and dudettes," Puck hailed.

"Brittany not here yet?" Finn asked the group. "I was
kinda hoping we could sit together."

Santana sat back down in her seat heavily, snapped


her fingers and raised an eyebrow. "You'll be lucky;
she's never found her way here on her own before."

"And Mr Schuester's late," Quinn sighed.

"Oh," Finn said wistfully and, since the group had


fallen silent, he decided to talk about his current
favorite subject. "Anyone got any ideas where I can
take Brittany on a date? I was thinking Breadstix but
then I thought about taking her to a farm to, y'know,
feed and hold the animals. Maybe we could do
something involving corn?"

"One day Finn is going to 'M Night Shyamalan' us and


reveal that he's actually Kentucky Amish." Kurt pursed
his lips.

Finn was lost in a little world of his own devising. "We


have these really deep conversations. She makes you
think, you know? Like... what's that question bigamists
use to empty their heads?

"Buddhists," Kurt corrected.

"Yeah, those guys too."

"Study night for you two must be completely


mentally... challenging," Kurt smirked.

"'What's the sound of one hand clapping?'" Artie


offered a small, self-satisfied smile on his lips.

"That's it! And that other one about no one being able
to hear you scream when you fall from a tree in
space. Except Brittany's are: 'Where does the wax go
when you burn a candle?' and 'Is this the same
rainwater as we had on Tuesday?'" Finn's eyes
glimmered with pride.

"She asked me: 'Why can't we pick up shadows?'"


Tina offered with an outstretched hand.

"I always kinda liked that one," Santana said under


her breath, her shoulders sagging.

Quinn twisted round and whispered to Santana: "Is


this why Finn's been looking super vacant since he
and Brittany started dating?"

"No," she replied. "I've been stealing his pens and


shoelaces. He thinks he has his own personal
poltergeist." They smirked and bumped fists gently.

"Brittany!" Finn jumped to his feet and pulled her over


to sit on his lap.

"Thanks, Finn," she cooed.

He shook his head at Brittany, indicating for her to


explain. "For...?"

"You left a trail of Sour Patch Kids from my class to


here... didn't you?"

Finn still looked confused until he picked up his bag to


find sugar gummies falling out of a rip in the bottom.
He shrugged and smiled crookedly at her. "Sweet."

Santana looked like she was going to pop. "What the


hell, I cut a hole in his bag and it turns out to be a
good thing?" she said through gritted teeth.
"Huh?" asked Finn, who had been just out of hearing
range.

Brittany caught Santana's eye. Her lip twisting, she


said: "Uh, who would have thought a hole in your
backpack would be a good thing?" She faked a
chuckle.

"'Sup, dogs." Mercedes cruised into the room.

Kurt crossed his legs and rested his elbow on his


knee. "Don't mention anything canine-related,
Mercedes; Santana has been hired as the Cheerios'
personal furry. And she really does bite and scratch.
Though the flea results aren't back yet."

"Mr Schuester!" Artie exclaimed with joy. "So nice to


see you." He was glad of the distraction.

Will smiled. "Uh, hi, guys. Great that you're all here."

"Almost all," Quinn muttered.

"Sorry I'm late. Let's get straight to it. We've got two
weeks before sectionals, and I know I promised I'd
give you more of a say, but I need you to start
bringing the goods to the table. Has anyone had any
ideas for this week's theme?" He leaned back against
the piano and folded his arms. Everyone looked a
little blank. "Come on, it's 'Second Chances', what
could be easier?"

"Oh, I don't know, anything that wasn't quite so lame,"


Mercedes tutted.

"I don't get it; usually you're all bursting at the seams
with ideas." Will shook his head.

Sam raised a hand. "I think you'll find that pretty much
all Rachel, Mr Schue. She used to fake our voices
when your back was turned and, for the record, I
would never suggest anything by Tina Turner." He
shook hair out of his eyes. "Don't we need another
team member since we're one man down?"

"Don't call her a man!" Quinn cried out with a scowl.

Sam reacted like he'd been burned. "Whoa. Person!


Person down." He shouted back like he was having a
flashback to Vietnam.

"Good point, Sam. Everyone, please keep trying to


recruit new members." Will clenched his fists. "But
come on: song suggestions, guys? Please try."

"I've always thought 'Never Gonna Give You Up' was


about a man being with a woman no matter how she
treats him." Artie pressed his hands together and sat
up in his chair.

"I hardly think that rickrolling the audience is gonna


win us points with the judges." Quinn's lip curled.

"'Please Forgive Me' by Bryan Adams?" Artie tried


again.

"I'm gonna hurl." Mercedes clutched her stomach.


"How about 'Rihanna's 'Hate That I Love You''?"

"How is that part of the theme?" Puck asked.

"It's part of my theme of singing songs that don't suck


with my voice." She snapped her fingers and pouted.

Will took a deep breath and dragged his hand along


his jaw. "Look, seeing as I was late today, we'll extend
this deadline over the weekend to Monday. Please try
and come up with a song you're all happy to sing."

"Why were you late, Mr Schue?" asked Tina curiously.

"Heh, well it was the weirdest thing; I'm pretty sure I


hallucinated or something, but I could have sworn I
saw my ex-wife out by the gates of the school." He
rubbed at his temple and laughed. "And she looked
just like Coach Sylvester."

In the corner of the room a beeping started, then a


nother, this time over by Quinn. "Oh, crap," she
uttered. Then a third beep. All three cheerleaders
pulled out their pagers and read the identical
message .
"Where the hell do they store those?" Puck asked with
bemused amusement.

"I'm guessing that's Coach Sylvester's equivalent of


the bat signal," said Artie, watching the three girls file
out of the door.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany strode across the


football field towards their team, who were being
addressed by Sue. "Desperate times, people. No
sooner have we lost one of our own -"

"Still here," Santana protested with an impatient wave


of her hand and stomp of her foot.

"- than we have been offered an underground cheer-


off," Sue continued unabated.

"Wouldn't that be dark? Wouldn't we fall over?"


Brittany whispered to Quinn.

"She means we've been challenged outside regular


competitions. No rules. No limits," Quinn explained.

"I received this call to arms just this afternoon." Sue


held up a note. "And we are not going to back down!"
She rallied the girls. "Okay, now plans of action -"

The sound of chanting voices echoed from the


bleachers. "Grab that o-b-l. Now dot that i. And grab
that t-e-r-a-t-e," the Lima AllStars cheered, all dressed
in blue and white, their pom-poms shimmering under
the overhead lights.

"How about you grab a clue?" Santana waved her


finger at the group, making sure to keep her injured
arm behind her back. "We are going to destroy you,"
she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The group descended to the field and the evident


captain of the group, who was the clearly defined
head bitch in charge, stepped forwards. Hands on
hips, tossing her long auburn hair, she said: "Oh. My.
God. Santana Lopez, as I live and breathe."

"Reagan Kelly, as I die and spew," Santana threw


back.

Quinn stepped forward, her posture reflecting


Reagan's. "We haven't crossed paths with you and
your sisterhood of the traveling tramps in a long, long
time," she belittled.

"Shouldn't you be at home breast-feeding, Fabray?"

Quinn's cheek twitched but she didn't rise to it. "Isn't it


about time you had that spirit stick surgically removed
from your ass, Kelly?"

"People, people, we are friendly foes, remember?"


The blonde, slim-figured coach emerged from the
shadows and skipped down the steps . As she
advanced towards the groups, she watched as one
particular person reeled back in disgust.

"No!" Sue let out an extended low growl and pointed a


lean finger.

"Nice to see you too, Sue." Terri Schuester smiled


broadly as she smoothed down her tight-fitting pink
tracksuit. Sue looked to be frozen, dumbstruck, but
that didn't stop Terri thrusting her hand out, expecting
a handshake.

Sue looked like she'd just stumbled upon a leper


colony. "Why?" she uttered with disbelief.

"As my first foray into the world of coaching, I'd like


nothing more than to start by competing with the
best."

Sue pursed her lips, her jaw tighening visibly. The


compliment had softened her just a little and a sparkle
showed in her eyes. "Despite not wishing to even
share the same zip code as anyone who has
witnessed William Schuester's naked body, let alone
been in physical contact with his male paraphernalia,"
she shuddered, "it would be my pleasure for my
Cheerios to turn that vacuous smile of yours upside
down by out cheering your pathetic team."

"Well ... fabulous." Terri forced the grin to remain on


her face. "Shall I set the time and you set the place?
Shall we say Saturday ? Is seven o'clock okay for
you? "

"Fine." Sue's distaste still showed in her facial


expression. "I choose the parking lot by our school.
That way if any of your team displeases me in any
way, I can mow you down in my car. I'm warning you
now: I keep snow chains on my car all year round."
She drew a circle in the air between them.

"Oh, we won't disappoint." Terri put her hands on her


hips confidently.

"One more clause in our verbal agreement: I get to


choose the judge," she smirked knowingly.

"Deal."

[ Friday]

"Hey, hot stuff." Puck ran up behind Santana and put


his arm around her shoulder as they walked across
the parking lot. "So, are you gonna pucker up for the
Puckster ?"

"Not today, rudeboy," she replied sombrely.

"Come on, baby," he ran in front of her and, turning to


walk backwards, flashed a toothy smile. "A boy needs
an outlet."
"No one has ever tried to lure me into bed by calling
me an outlet before." She looked at him indignantly.
"I'm so hot for you right now," she said sarcastically.

"But my burgeoning libido needs to be nurtured," he


whined.

"Well, just don't burgeon anywhere near me or I'll


hack it off."

He winced. "Feeling low?" he asked with true concern


in his eyes.

"B bailed on me again. She was supposed to stay


over tonight but instead she's going out with Lurch. I
feel like I've been dumped; I was always Britt's... best
friend or whatever first, but now I feel like she's Finn's
girlfriend first." She shrugged despondently.

"Finn's canceled on our boys only game night too."

"Poker?"

"Pokémon," he replied honestly.

"Nerds."

"Beautiful, beautiful nerds who play football and rock


your world." He played a little air guitar with
accompanying rock-out facial expressions.
Santana sneered as she shot him a cold stare. "Nuh
uh. You guys suck right now."

Puck saw this as a challenge. "How do I cheer you


up? Erm. Oh. A joke. How does a party planner get
arrested?"

Santana mulled it over. "I don't know, how does a


party planner get arrested?"

"By throwing a hoedown," Puck grinned.

"Lord, that is the worst," she smirked.

"Made you smile though." He grinned but, on noticing


that she was almost instantly miserable again, bent
over to force his arm under her knees and pick her
up. Clutching her as close to his chest as he would a
football, he made a dash for the school entrance.
"And Puckerman has the ball, he's going for it," he
called out like a sports presenter. He ducked and
dived between pupils. "He's running like a dream as
he, ooh, penetrates the backfield. Oh wow, he's found
a tight hole and he is sliding through." Santana
joggled up and down in his arms and couldn't help but
laugh as Puck took the steps two at a time. Rounding
a corner he slid to a stop and bounced her to the
floor, right beside her locker. "He bangs it in. He
scores! Touchdown. The crowd goes wild." He made
the noise of a quietly cheering crowd. "What are you
looking at, freakoid?" he growled at, and then blew a
kiss to, a freshman who was staring.

A wise-crack should have found its way into


Santana's mind but she was still laughing too much
and instead said: "Thanks for dropping me off at my
locker."

"You know what you need?" Puck asked with a nod


and pout.

"An unbroken wrist? My girl back at my side?" she


replied mildly scathingly.

"A good, old-fashioned prank." He crossed his arms


and nodded." And I know exactly who needs to be the
target."

"Hey." Quinn looked down at Artie.

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me, or is there a midget


standing behind me?" He held his hand to his chest
and tried to look over his shoulder.

"Of course I'm talking to you." She sat down at the


lunchroom table and placed a pack of Reese's Cups
on his tray.

"Uh." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you


going to hire me to maim someone? Because I may
have embellished my ninja karate skills just a little.
Saying that, I might be able to leave some good tyre
marks."

"I need your advice," she said with a soft sigh.

If he'd been wearing a tie, he would have felt the need


to straighten it. "Okay," he coughed. His popularity
was increasing exponentially just by having the head
cheerleader at his table.

"You got Tina back recently, didn't you?"

"Sure, I kissed her in the blackout at the party and she


remembered what she was missing." He beamed
proudly.

"Well that action didn't really work in my favor." Quinn


took hold of her necklace and played with it. "You're a
romantic, honest guy, aren't you?"

"Are you asking me out?" Behind his thick framed


glasses his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Because, although I'm flattered -"

"Why do people assume that if I talk to them, it's


because I think they're hot?"

"Because you don't talk to someone unless you think


they're hot," he explained. "Unless you're telling them
to move or die."
Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Good point." She
coughed into her hand delicately, mildly embarrassed.
"I was wondering if you knew how I could, uh, woo
Rachel."

"You really want her, don't you?" He smiled. "That's


nice. You both need someone who can match the
strengths of your respective personalities."

"Then you don't think I'm making a huge mistake?"

"No, Quinn." He pressed at his glasses. "Why would


I?"

"I guess I keep looking for a reason not to like her."

"If you like her, just tell her, in real words."

"She won't talk to me." Quinn shook her head.

"Simple, then," he grinned. "Give her a letter."

She clearly liked the idea because she immediately


looked hopeful. "Thanks, Artie, you're one of the
greatest guys I know."

As she got up to leave, Artie caught her attention.


"Um, Quinn, can I get that in writing? No rush, but
there's some people in this school I'd really like to
show it to."
The hallway began to fill as students filtered their way
outside and into the lunchroom. Working her
cheerleading uniform for the last time, Santana flirted
with the boys, receiving purrs of approval. A last
hurrah. Spying Brittany, she happily approached, until
Finn stepped in between them and planted a long kiss
on Brittany's lips. Santana grimaced, clearly hurting
inside, and walked on. A song came into her head
that she couldn't help but sing. "There are worse
things I could do, than go with a boy or two. Even
though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy and no
good. I suppose it could be true, but there are worse
things I could do." She rounded the corner and Becky
took her hand, guiding her into the girls changing
room." I could flirt with all the guys; smile at them and
bat my eyes." She slipped off her uniform as Becky
shielded her eyes." Press against them when we
dance -" the skirt landed on Becky's head "- make
them think they stand a chance. Then refuse to see it
through." Santana stood in her underwear and waited
for her new outfit to be passed to her." That's a thing
I'd never do. I could stay home every night; wait
around for Mr. Right. Take cold showers every day
and throw my life away on a dream that won't come
true. I could hurt someone like me, out of spite or
jealousy. I don't steal and I don't lie, but I can feel and
I can cry. A fact I'll bet you never knew." Santana
pulled on the fluffy suit, followed by the oversized
head. She looked at herself in the mirror. "But to cry in
front of you... that's the worst thing I could do."
Santana gulped away her revulsion. "I feel like a
dork."

"Get used to it, punk," Becky shouted without


remorse.

"Hey." Brittany bounced up and sat opposite Rachel,


who was staring at her lunch with a frown.

"Has Quinn sent you?" Rachel scanned the room until


she found Quinn, who was sitting on her own looking
contemplative; their gazes locked for a moment.
"Because, if she has, I don't want to hear it."

"Sent me here for what?"

Rachel stabbed at her salad angrily, almost


disappointed. "Oh, it doesn't matter; I just thought she
would have tried to talk to me again by now."

Brittany leaned in. "Were you born a Jew, or did you


have to learn it? "

"That's quite the theological conundrum, Brittany! Do


you really want to talk about that right now? In the
lunch room?" Rachel began to pull her diary out of her
satchel. "We could set a date and time if -"

"I don't really want to talk about any kind of drum. My


mom just told me that when I start a conversation with
someone, I should ask them a question about
themselves."

"Very nice. Next time, perhaps, ask something a little


less complicated, like: 'How are you?'"

"Awesome." Brittany mouthed the question, practising


for later. "Please come back to Glee," she said
suddenly, causing Rachel to almost choke on a shred
of lettuce.

"Thank you for the request, but my efforts towards


becoming McKinley's first anti-truancy agent have
been quite fruitful. Principal Figgins explained that I
can have the title as long as it doesn't cost him
anything." Rachel shot Brittany a winning smile. "I
plan on visiting repeat offenders at dawn and singing
them uplifting songs. It was Coach Sylvester's idea,
actually; she said that my voice could wake the dead.
I assume she meant that kindly." She frowned. "Not to
mention the petition I'm gathering together to bring
back prohibition in Ohio. So I'm far too busy to think
about Glee."

Brittany pouted. "It's just... I really like dancing. It


makes me feel all free and stuff, and we haven't got
enough people."

Rachel pressed her lips together. "Sorry, Brittany."

"I know that I'm the reason you left. After all, I am with
Finn now and you're still in love with him. It must be
hard for you to see us together."

Rachel looked sweetly confused and spoke like she


was informing a young child that his dog had gone to
live 'on a farm'. "Um. I'm not sure how you'll take this,
Brittany, but you're not the reason I left and I'm not in
love with Finn. Agreed, he and I made a formidable
couple, but we were too comfortable together; he
didn't challenge me. Besides, it became clear that we
shared quite different outlooks on matters such as
abstinence, hygiene and musical melodramas."

"I'm sure what you just said was very pretty." Brittany
nodded slowly. "Please come back to Glee anyway.
We need you."

"Well, it's nice to be wanted for once." Resting her


elbows on the table, Rachel placed her chin on her
interlaced fingers. She noticed out of the corner of her
eye that Quinn was leaving the room, her hips
swaggering and her ponytail swaying.

Brittany smiled sweetly and leaned over. "If you need


me, here's my card."

"You have a card?" Rachel was taken aback.

"What? No." She looked a little lost for a moment. "I


thought it was just an expression like 'I got yo back,
mofo'." Brittany clicked the fingers on both hands with
attitude and bit her bottom lip. "But, y'know, more
polite."

Quinn held the letter tight in her hand. Taking a deep


breath, she marched purposefully down the hall. She
didn't need to work out which was Rachel's locker;
that was made abundantly clear by the presence of a
spray can in Azimio's outstretched hand. X literally
marked the spot.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Quinn


pulled at his varsity jacket. He stepped back to reveal
the words: 'BERRY'S CHERRIES' written in pink paint
and a scrawl resembling a pair of pert breasts. "Ugh,
you are such a child," she exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm just brightening up the hall; it needed a little


color. May I inject a little color into your life, pretty
one?" He began to stroke her arm.

"Get lost," she spat. Azimio laughed and left. Quinn


looked back at the locker, suddenly nervous in
anticipation of Rachel's disappointment. Using the
only available thing to hand, Quinn pressed the
envelope to the locker door and began rubbing away
the evidence.

"Quinn?"

"Ber...chel," Quinn stuttered.

"Berchel. Oh, a new name for me, how simply


delightful." Rachel spoke without a hint of humor. "So
this is how it's going to be, is it?" she said to Quinn. "I
snub you, so you defile my belongings? "

"It was Azimio." Quinn attempted to defend herself.

"Oh, come on, do you really expect me to believe that


a degenerate neanderthal like Azimio would, firstly,
use anything the color of bubblegum; secondly,
correctly apply an apostrophe to my name, and lastly,
pluralize cherries with an 'i-e-s' instead of the
erroneous, if slightly more aesthetically pleasing,
option of 'y-s'?" Rachel crossed her arms. "In addition,
you have the evidence all over your hands. I rest my
case. "

Quinn first looked to her smudged fingertips, then


down to see the spray can still turning in circles where
Azimio had dropped it. "I wanted to give you this."
Quinn held up the squashed, pink-smeared letter.

"What is it? A crude drawing? A coupon for a taster


session at Marty's dairy funhouse and burger
emporium? I'll pass, thank you."

A fully bulldog-suited Santana walked up beside them


and stood next to Quinn, her large furry paws resting
on her hips. "Hey, nice handiwork, Q. I knew this
crush over baby Snuffleupagus, here, wouldn't last . It
might be the one thing that makes me happy today."
"Wait. You're the one calling me a hairy animal with
big nose?" Rachel looked Santana up and down with
disdain.

"Hey, at the end of the day, I can take this off. You
can't."

"Santana," Quinn chided under breath.

Anger rose in Rachel once again. She spotted two


students walking past with Big Gulps in their hands,
and so stepped out to intercept. First apologizing, she
grabbed a cup in each hand and threw the slushies in
Santana's and Quinn's faces simultaneously. She
handed the cups back to the students. "Much obliged;
have a good day. That much corn syrup isn't good for
you anyway. I may have saved you from cavities in
your respective mouths." Turning, Rachel walked
away.

Quinn stood in shock with crushed ice dripping down


her neck. She glared at Santana. "What did you have
to say that for? Look at us. Rachel's never going to
talk to me now."

Santana's large, shiny nose fell down over her eyes.


Through the insufficient gap, she groaned. "I have
slushie pooling in the bottoms of my dog legs. I'm
officially dead inside. My life is over."

Quinn shook herself off and lifted Santana's costume


head by an ear. "Well I hope your current situation
really gives you paws for thought." Stealing a slushie,
Quinn flung it into Santana's already dripping face.
"And, just so you know, you look like frickin Gizmo,
except half as cute and twice as dumb."

Finn took Brittany by the hand and checked the map.


He guided her through the trees until they came out
the other side down the side of a grassy knoll.

"Are you sure this is where Puck said the restaurant


was?" Brittany asked, looking at the sleazy motel and
parking lot.

"Yeah, he said it's like a theme thing, like urban and


stuff. Oh, look, it's just down here." He pointed
excitedly to an arrowed sign. Once they passed it, as
if on cue, the board flopped down and landed on the
ground. Over behind one of the trucks, the faint sound
of giggling could be heard. "Do you hear crickets?" he
asked with a frown. "Oh. This is it." Finn raised his
arms and pointed at the words over the entrance
which read ' The Truck Stop'. "I think it's supposed to
be ironic or something because it's not really a truck."

He guided Brittany up the steps and through the door.


It slammed behind them and they looked around at
the four metal walls, stacked high with cardboard
boxes. "Finn, this is so exciting. I've never been the
only one in a restaurant before, except that one time
when I got locked in Taco Bell for four days, but that
wasn't so exciting and I got really fat."

"What's that noise?" Finn tipped his head to one side.

"The ironic engine?" Brittany offered.

"You are so smart," he smiled.

Santana stood agape as she watched the truck drive


away. The sheet bearing the name of the fake
restaurant flapped in the wind. "I can not believe they
fell for that."

"I know, how dumb do you get?" Puck asked, tickling


her in the ribs.

"So where's the truck going?" she asked, bent over


with laugher. "Findlay or something?"

"Atlanta."

"Atlanta freakin' Georgia?" Santana began beating at


his back with her arms. "What the hell did you do that
for?"

"What? It's like an hour away or something." He


winced in pain. "Isn't it?"

"Try ten." She pursed her lips and looked at him


expectantly. "Well?"
"What?"

"Run, Forrest, run," she pointed in the direction of the


truck.

"Oh yeah." He sprinted off, shouting for the driver to


stop.

"Rachel," Quinn hissed, holding onto her woolen hat


as she tipped her head back. "Come to the window at
once. This isn't funny." Quinn unbuttoned her coat
and picked up a twig from the ground to hurl at
Rachel's bedroom window. It smacked the pane of
glass hard. "Don't leave me out here like an idiot."
She rubbed at her eye with a gloved hand. "Fine, if
you won't talk to me like a normal person, I'll have to
do the unthinkable and sink to your level." She
breathed deeply, and then, very quietly, began to
sing. "Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think
of you. Caught up in circles confusion is nothing new.
Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind. Suitcase
of memories, time after... sometimes you picture me;
I'm walking too far ahead. You're calling to me, I can't
hear what you've said. Then you say: 'Go slow'. I fall
behind. The second hand unwinds." Her voice
became stronger, more confident with every line. She
felt empowered by singing in the open air. "If you're
lost you can look and you will find me. Time after
time. If you fall, I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time
after time. If you're lost you can look and you will find
me. Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you. I'll be
waiting. Time after time. "

"After my picture fades and darkness has turned to


gray. Watching through windows -" Quinn glanced
upwards to see if Rachel was watching yet "- you're
wondering If I'm okay. Secrets stolen from deep
inside. The drum beats out of time." She balled her
fists tight. "If you're lost, you can look and you will find
me. Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you I'll be
waiting. Time after time." Behind her, something
cracked and Quinn stopped singing in surprise. "Mr
Berry?"

"Sorry, Quinn, that was awful of me to listen in." He


walked around the side of the house. "Beautiful voice
you have there."

"You know who I am?"

"Of course I do. Hiram and I try to attend every New


Directions performance. We wouldn't miss it for the
world." Leroy smiled. Um -" he looked up to Rachel's
window "- I'm afraid she's gone out. If you were..." He
frowned, not quite understanding why Quinn was
there at all.

Quinn looked a little bit like a deer in the headlights. "I


didn't, I mean, I wasn't serenading her, or anything
like that. I was just, uh, bored," she offered lamely
with raised hands.
Leroy shrugged and smiled. "Do you want to come in
and wait?"

Rachel knocked with trepidation and exhaled slowly .


The door swung wide.

"Oh, hi, Mrs Fabray."

"Garner now, sweetie," Judy corrected, tapping her


index finger on the door frame impatiently.

Rachel blinked ferociously. "Oh, I... uh, is Quinn


home?"

"And you are?"

"Rachel Berry," she replied almost standing to


attention.

Judy's expression was that of someone scuffling


about in the deep dark cellar of her mind. "Uh, sure.
Raquel."

"Rachel. R-a-c-h-e-l-B-e-r-r-y." Rachel corrected,


enunciating each letter with particular zeal.

"The Jew girl?"

"I can assure you that although I am part of the same


contingent of people that gave us the young man who
impregnated your daughter, you need feel no fear in
accepting me into your home. No form of coitus or
intimate union of any kind will take place once Quinn
arrives. Not that any 'fabies' could be conceived that
way, anyhow." Rachel chuckled to herself, alone in
the joke. "So may I be admitted into your undoubtedly
lovely home to wait?"

Judy looked utterly perplexed, as though Rachel had


just explained the nature of the universe. "Sure," she
drawled, "you can wait in her room. Top of the stairs,
third door on the right."

Rachel stepped in and looked around. "Thank you,


Mrs F-, uh Ms Garner."

"Call me Judy; it's a darn sight better than having you


remind me of the divorce every two minutes."

"Certainly... divorce?" Rachel looked perturbed, then


remembered herself. "Apologies, I shouldn't pry. It's
just that Quinn never mentioned -"

"My d-i-v-o-r-c-e? No, I expect she wouldn't. Third


door on the right," she reiterated with a significantly
raised eyebrow and hands on her hips.

Rachel swallowed and nodded.

Finn scratched at his head. "Uhm, Brittany, it's been


at least an hour, I think that we really are in a truck.
We got tricked." They were definitely on the move.
"Maybe it's just self-service ?" she suggested sweetly.

He snapped his fingers. "Well it certainly can be!"


Smiling, he flattened his hair with the palms of his
hands. Dragging over a large box he set it down in the
middle as a table, then drew up another box for
Brittany to sit on. Leaping forward he grabbed a rag
and draped it over his forearm. "Would the madam
care to try the, uh -" he ripped open a few boxes "-
Oreos ala chips ?"

She tossed her hair and sat primly on her makeshift


seat, playing along. "Thank you, I will, waiter."

"Perhaps, a little Gatorade to wash it down? Grape or


Fruit Punch?" He rested both bottles on his arm to
show her the choice. She pointed with a delicately
extended finger. "Excellent choice." He untwisted the
cap and handed it to her.

Quinn found Rachel's room without issue; it was


marked with a name plate just like one you might find
on a professional actress' dressing room door. She
entered cautiously, first noting that Rachel had a thing
for mood lighting given the numerous lamps dotted
around the room. She took a moment to calm herself
upon noticing that her heart was beating rapidly, and
sat on the edge of Rachel's bed. Posters from a
multitude of musicals lined the walls. The room
reminded her of candy and cupcakes, all bright colors
and cutesy bears. It wasn't as theatrical as she had
expected: no stage, no curtain, no light bulbs framing
the dressing table mirror and no self-dedicated shrine.
Even the four poster bed was plain white wood; very
understated. The room felt like a metaphor for
Rachel's character; deep down, under the projection
of narcissism and behind closed doors, she was just a
regular girl.

Grabbing a multicolored striped cushion, Quinn held it


to her stomach and began to watch the clock on the
wall. "Get yourself home, Rachel. I'm only going to
stay here so long before I chicken out."

Rachel walked around Quinn's room, hands held


firmly behind her back. She wanted to make sure that
she wouldn't accidentally touch anything. She looked
over at the large French-style, crafted wooden bed
and wondered if Quinn had chosen the furniture
herself; whether the baroque patterned wallpaper had
been her bold suggestion. She stumbled across a
floppy, green, woolen frog and picked it up. "Hey, little
guy, is your mommy coming home soon? I really need
to talk to her." Rachel's heart dropped when she
noticed that the toy had a plastic hospital bracelet
secured tightly around its upper arm. H er forehead
creased; she didn't have to read the text to know
whose name was on it. She put the frog back and
patted its head kindly.

Quinn approached the window to look out for Rachel,


her breath forming a vapor on the glass. Starting at a
single point, she pressed her index fingertips to the
window and drew up, out and down to make another
point. Shaking her head, she wiped the heart away,
sat on the ledge, and sighed.

Rachel moved away from the window. The symbol


she had carefully drawn faded and quickly
disappeared. Still distracted by the décor of Quinn's
room, her foot caught on the waste basket by the
writing desk. Dropping to her knees, she gathered all
the scattered, scrunched up pieces back into the can.
Spotting the envelope Quinn had tried to give her
earlier, she picked it up and peeked inside. Unfurling
the papers she found it to be a real letter, written in
Quinn's perfect copperplate hand. Her hands fumbled
a little and she clutched the pages a little too tight.
Sitting back on her heels, she exhaled nervously and
trepidatiously began to read the letter.

'Dear Rachel,' the first stumbling block - it caused her


to stop and swallow hard - Quinn so rarely addressed
Rachel by her first name, if ever. 'At first I wanted to
apologize, then I wanted to hit you,' Rachel rolled her
eyes, 'then I wanted to apologize again. I'm still
feeling that way now, so you're in luck and will
actually receive one. I am truly sorry for how I treated
you, how I do still treat you, even despite my feelings.'
She bit her lip. 'You've always led your life living up to
the expectations you set for yourself, whereas I have
let myself be guided and ruled by goals set by other
people. I so admire you for that.' Momentarily,
Rachel's hands dropped to her knees; she needed to
compose herself before she could continue.

'I bet you've never blinked an eye at having a


relationship with a woman. Okay... maybe you have,
but I'm guessing your only fear would be your future
agent typecasting your roles. I, on the other hand,
have never even considered it; it was never an option.
This all crept up on me and I hated myself for seeing
you with these new eyes, for wanting to be around
you when everyone else seemed to push you away.
An anger rose in me; it became unbearable. So much
so that, every time I saw you, I blamed you for this
heat inside my chest. I took it out on you, and I never
stopped, because you took it. You suffered me. How
did you do that? How do you do that?'

Rachel spoke aloud to the letter. "Anger is an emotion


best saved for the stage." She read on. 'Please
understand how hard these things are for me to say,
and not just because I've hurt you in the past. I admire
you for your confidence, your bull-headed attitude,
and for standing up to me... someone who was
supposed to be your friend. I don't want to let you
down anymore. No more excuses. I don't know how to
get you to believe me, but I really, really like you.
There: I said it. I. Like. You.' Rachel felt her stomach
twist and roll, like a pleasant hunger.'You're staring at
me right now.' Rachel frowned with confusion. 'You
look like you want to stab me with that salad fork
you're holding like Neptune holds his trident. There's
really no doubt that you resent me over this since
your gaze is burning holes in my retinas. I'll finish
here, get out of your sight. If you need me to leave
Glee Club so you can re-join, I'll do it; they can't win
without you. See you around, Quinn.'

Rachel stared at the last two letters beneath Quinn's


name: 'xo'. At the same time as feeling honored that
Quinn had spent so much time writing the letter,
Rachel berated herself for the evil glare she'd given
her at lunch. There was so much more she would
have liked to hear.

"Finn?" Brittany said with a yawn, the gentle motion of


the truck having a soporific effect.

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

He turned over one of the boxes and his eyes lit up.
"Atlanta!"

"I've always wanted to visit an underwater city," said


Brittany excitedly as she snuggled into Finn's side.

"Oh my God, me too," he beamed.

Grabbing his face, Brittany pulled his lips towards


hers. As they kissed, he smiled happily. "Now you
have to sing me to sleep," she said candidly. "I
normally have my Barney tape, but seeing as we're
on the road, will you sing something?"

"Uh, sure." He grabbed his jacket and folded it up so


she could use it as a pillow. Wracking his brain, he
tried to think of a song he knew by heart that was
about sleep. Feeling a coin in his pocket, he tossed it
in the air. It pinged when it hit the roof. "You would not
believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies lit up the world
as I fell asleep." As he walked around the space, he
tapped boxes in time to the rhythm in his head.
"'Cause they fill the open air and leave teardrops
everywhere. You'd think me rude, but I would just
stand and stare."

"I'd like to make myself believe, that planet Earth turns


slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when
I'm asleep.' Cause everything is never as it seems.'
Cause I'd get a thousand hugs from ten thousand
lightning bugs as they tried to teach me how to dance.
A foxtrot above my head. A sock-hop beneath my
bed. The disco ball is just hanging by a thread. I'd like
to make myself believe, that planet Earth turns slowly.
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm
asleep. Because everything is never as it seems.
Leave my door open just a crack, because I feel like
such an insomniac. Why do I tire of counting sheep?
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep?" Brittany curled
up on her side and smiled.
"To ten million fireflies, I'm weird 'cause I hate
goodbyes. I got misty eyes as they said farewell. But
I'll know where several are, if my dreams get real
bizarre, because I saved a few and I keep them in a
jar." Brittany held out her hand and took Finn's so she
could guide him down to lie down beside her. He
lowered his voice to a whisper as they closed their
eyes. "I'd like to make myself believe, that planet
Earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
awake when I'm asleep, because my dreams are
bursting at the seams."

Deciding that she had far out stayed her welcome,


Rachel bounded down the stairs and coughed for
attention. Judy came out into the hallway, her
eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Yes?" She looked at Rachel like she was a bellhop to


whom she didn't want to give a tip.

"I think it's time I'd better go now. It's late and my
parents will be worried."

"Well if you hear from Quinn tell her I'm taking a val-"
Judy paused and rethought her words, "vitamin and
going to bed. Before she left she had been singing
incessantly, time after time after time... my head is still
throbbing now. So thank you for being so quiet." She
looked suspiciously at Rachel. "You didn't steal
anything, did you?"
"No. What on earth would I steal?"

"You're right, what would you steal? There's barely


anything left." Judy waved her hand through the air
whilst mouthing the words: 'rat bastard'. "Perhaps I
should fake an insurance claim," she said, though she
hadn't realized she'd said it out loud.

"Um." Rachel eased on her coat, feeling the


awkwardness. "Thank you for letting me wait. It was
much appreciated." Judy pulled back the front door,
and Rachel stepped through into the chilly night.

"Would you kindly grant me a favor?" She frowned


and bit her lip, distinctly unhappy with what she was
about to suggest. It felt necessary. "Please don't
mention I came here tonight."

"If you say so, Quinn," Leroy replied. "But I'm really
not happy with lying..."

Quinn drew a flat line in the air with her hand. "No
lying. It's not like she's going to ask: 'Did Quinn visit?"

He nodded slowly, a little uncertain. "If she doesn't


ask me directly, I won't say, but if she does, I will tell
her the truth, okay? I can't hide things from my
daughter."

"I..." Quinn sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and
thought about it. She decided not to push any further.
"Okay, Mr Berry." She stepped outside and turned
around to face him. "Thank you."

"Do you need more layers? A can of mace or an


alarm? We keep spares. Or I could walk you home...
actually, wait, I should really walk you home. How
stupid of me." He turned around to fetch his coat.

"I'm fine, really, it's not far at all." She smiled at his
overprotective nature. "I might even call my mom to
come get me," she lied. "Goodnight."

"Goodbye and goodnight. Take care, honey."

"Lie? Sure, I don't care." Judy tipped back the rest of


her mojito and slammed the door in Rachel's face,
causing her to reel back and almost fall off the stoop.

[Saturday]

Finn and Brittany skipped across the street. "You


remind me of my old tree house," Brittany cooed, "and
it just makes me want to climb up you."

"That's, like, the best compliment I've ever had." Finn


finished his ice cream and grabbed her hand. "What
now? We've been to the aquarium."

"I can't believe we were the millionth customers and


got in for free." Brittany was wearing a crown of
dancing dolphins.
"I know, right! It was sweet. And they let us name that
new species of fish. Flatfacepunkybutt. I think it has a
good ring to it."

"What now?" Brittany asked, looking around.

"Hey." The man's voice came from the distance.

They both turned around to see a film crew setting up


a shot. "Us?" they said simultaneously.

"Yeah, you. Two of our cast got sick. You kids ever
dreamed of being in the movies?"

They both shrugged and smiled at each other. "Sure!"

Santana poked Puck in the chest. "There is no way


I'm going to the cheer-off in that damned dog suit."

"Can't you borrow a uniform? Don't you have a


spare?" he asked with a pout.

"You've sent my best friend halfway across America,


and Quinn is so not talking to me right now. Coach
Sylvester completely cleared out my locker, and even
sent Becky to break into my house. So no, I can't
borrow and no, I don't have a goddamned spare. And
although I have it on good authority that you have a
pair of my spankies, that ain't gonna cut it.
Comprendez?"
"Yes, Ma'am."

"So break open this door because we haven't got


'lock-picker Fabray' to do it delicately for us."

"How about I use the key?" His eyes sparkled. "I have
a master for the whole school."

She looked at him with amazement. "Sometimes I


can't help but be turned on by how bad you are,"
Santana said seductively.

Pushing the door open, they looked on in wonder at


the room which contained every confiscated item from
the last twenty years and counting. "Whoa," breathed
Puck. "I feel like Nicholas Cage in National Treasure.
Except I wouldn't be a douche and give it all away."
His eyes scanned over the bottles of liqor, electronic
games, footballs, fireworks and other contraband. "It's
like my hall of fame. Look, there's that propane tank I
tried to turn into a rocket in freshman year."

"Found it!" Santana began tugging out all her Cheerio


accessories.

"Cool. What else should we take?" He ran his hand


over his mohawk. "I don't know why but I'm seriously
drawn to that tomahawk." Suddenly he couldn't help
but picture Santana as Pocahontas.
Santana sank down and sat on the floor. "Y'know
what? I can put on this uniform but it's still not gonna
be the same."

"Give it up. Throw it back in their faces." He sat down


beside her and put his arm around her back. "You
don't need them to get respect in this school."

"Yeah, right," she said, unconvinced.

"People aren't scared of Santana the cheerleader;


they're scared of Santana the badass."

"Really?" she looked hopeful.

"Yeah, you spread terror wherever you go; I've seen


kids blow chunks with fear, even when you're not in
uniform."

She playfully punched him in the stomach. "Thanks.


You've been a really nice guy."

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "It's my


calling lately. First Rachel, now you. Somehow I'm
actually sticking to my word."

"Huh?"

"I'm on a mission to help my exes. First, I told Rachel


not to date Quinn right away, then I helped you play a
joke on Brittany."
"You're the reason Berry's all pissed and frustrated ? I
thought she was pmsing. I got a slushie facial
because of you!"

"Damn. I guess no good deed goes unpunished," he


said mopily.

Santana recognized the lyric. "Oh my god. You have


been spending way too much time around Rachel
Berry. Get out. Get out! And don't talk to me until
you've been uncastrated." She pulled her cell phone
out of her coat pocket as she dragged Puck out of the
storeroom. "Quinn?" she listened for a moment. "Shut
up and listen. Where did you even learn those kinds
of words anyway?" She switched ears and held her
hand out to Puck. He handed over the master key
reluctantly. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, Q, but
don't listen to what anyone else says. It's gross but
Rachel is hot for you."

"I got your message." Rachel padded across the


grass and held up her sparkly cell phone with the text
that read: 'Meet me at the 50yard line. Please. Quinn."

"I'm amazed you came." Quinn bit her lip, her


breathing a little labored, like she'd run to the football
field, even though it had taken Rachel a good fifteen
minutes to get there after the text had been sent.

"So, what's my fate? Stand at the end zone while you


have someone kick footballs at my nose?"

Quinn shook her head. "I know what you're thinking,


but I deserved that slushie. I didn't ask you here to
avenge what you did. But please tell me you know
that I didn't spray paint your locker, right? Right?" she
asked insistently.

"I believe you. I realized I was wrong. I should have


given you a proper hearing yesterday. I'm sorry for
that." Rachel frowned when she saw what Quinn was
wearing." Haven't you got somewhere else to be?"

"Nowhere as important as here."

"But you're in your uniform and I'm guessing there's a


reason for that. I know how seriously you take your
cheerleading. And unless you've taken to wearing it
on weekends just for -"

"There was something," Quinn admitted, "but I have


better things to be doing. Like talking to you. If you'll
let me."

Will looked flustered, holding his chest after running


from his car. "What's going on?" he panted as he
approached the gathered group of cheerleaders.
"Someone called me here because they said my
parents had been in an accident and I had five
minutes to say my goodbyes."
Sue emerged through the crowd. "Ah, William. I see
you received my call to arms. Fantastic!"

"Sue? You had me scared witless!" He dragged his


palms down in face, in part with relief.

"Will?" The voice came from behind.

He looked around and caught sight of Terri. His eyes


widened. "What? Is this some kind of weird set up?"

"No." Sue stepped forward. "We needed an impartial


judge, that's you by the way, and I figured that Terri
here would be the one person you hated more than
you hate me, so thank you for stepping into the
breach." She hit him on the back, hard. "Okay
everyone. First challenge: three tier tree extensions.
Mount and hold steady." The Cheerios assembled;
appropriate smiles implanted in their straining faces.

Terri instructed her team to do the same. "Will? You


have to watch them carefully. The first team with a
shaking limb loses this round. You have to pay
attention."

Will's hand cut through the air. "No way. I won't be


party to this."

"Please, Will." Terri spoke softly. "For old time's sake?


You want me to be happy, don't you? I know you do,
deep down. And this is my new venture. I'm making
positive moves to empower myself, so that I won't
even feel the need to hurt someone..." She lowered
her voice to a whisper. "...like I hurt you."

He found himself weakened by her voice and tried not


to be swayed by her slender figure in the light of the
setting sun. "Okay, just this once."

Santana strolled up to the group and acknowledged


everyone in turn. "Cheerios, Lima AllSkanks, Coach,
Mr Schuester, Mrs Schuester."

"Delmonico, dear," Terri corrected with a raised finger.

"Whatever."

"Where, young lady, is your suit ?" Sue raged. "I


expected to see a pair of large, glassy eyes resting
atop that pretty head." Sue looked up and around,
counting up the Cheerios, her lips tightly pursed.
"Hold on." She knitted her brows together.
"Somebody, please stop this carousel of insanity," she
screamed. "I wish to dismount my metaphorical
plastic stallion. Where in hades are Pierce and
Fabray?"

Santana smirked but covered it. "That's what I came


here to tell you, Coach. They've been locked in a
store room in the school. You'll have to come right
away to get them out."
"You!" Sue's head almost spun exorcist like before the
rest of her body followed. "You did this!" she accused
Terri.

"Oh, come off it, Sue. My team could wipe the floor
with yours," she uttered with a sweet malice. "I don't
need to sabotage you. I'm sure this is all just some
silly mistake."

"Lopez, lead the way," Sue commanded. "Cheerios,


stay in that formation until we get back." She received
panic stricken stares.

"Uh, yes, AllStars, you too," Terri added with a


winning smile.

"Did you read my letter?" Quinn asked plainly as she


sat down next to Rachel on the top tier of the
bleachers.

"I, uh -" Rachel wasn't sure if they were talking cross


purposes, or if Quinn had a webcam set up in her
bedroom the previous night.

"When you came to my house, did you read the letter


I had written to you?

"Did your mom tell -"

"My mom? No, she was pretty much out cold when I
got home." Quinn inhaled deeply, then exhaled softly,
tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Then how did you know?"

"When I woke up this morning my window was a little


misty, and someone had drawn a star on the glass."

Rachel clenched her teeth and smiled widely. "Sorry,"


she said quickly.

"It was kinda odd knowing you'd been in my room. I


felt strangely... jealous."

"Jealous of a room? That seems ridiculous."

"Will you answer my question about the letter?" Quinn


asked.

"I'd rather not." Rachel licked her lips, then sealed


them tight to stop herself from blurting anything she
might regret.

"There you go again with the rather nots."

"If I talk to you about the letter, then I'm guessing that
I won't get to hear those things for real, coming out of
your mouth, expressed through those eyes."

Quinn paused for effect before saying: "You might."

Rachel's brain was on overdrive. "No one has ever


written me a letter before. Well, unless you count the
ones from my Yugoslavian pen-pal Maria Henssonow,
but I don't - count them, I mean - especially since her
letters consist almost entirely of lyrics of obscure
seventies songs written out - and poorly I might add -
on paper that smells like funny cigarettes, onions and
peppermint. But yours felt really, honestly and truly
special. The very fact that you spent time composing
it, putting pen to paper, thoughts into words. And it
smelled nice, like your room, like you. I can't even
verbalize how incredible that felt to read. I was
shuddering so much inside when I read it that I
thought I was going to throw up and ruin your
beautiful bedroom furnishings. Oh, paparazzi," she
exclaimed. "I've fugged it up by talking too much,
haven't I? You've glazed over. "

"A letter was the only way I could get my words to


you. I didn't think you'd listen. I'm glad you didn't throw
up, but the furnishings belong to Frannie; after she left
home I took her room because it was the best and I
always want the best. And no, you haven't fugged it
up. Nor have I glazed over; I was just thinking how
pretty you look. Also, lose the pen-pal."

"I..." Rachel was still reeling. Instinctively, she put her


hand to her head.

"Did you curl your hair and put on make-up just to


come and see me?"
"You caught me practicing my awards acceptance
speeches," she replied, running her fingers through
her curls.

"Oh." Quinn was disappointed. Her head dropped;


she had hoped that Rachel had made the effort to
impress her, and felt silly for even mentioning it.

"My goodness, I've just realized how cold you must


be. The cardio workout you get from cheerleading
would have kept you warm, but you're just sitting here
in that insufficient set of clothing. You must be
perishing." Rachel ran her thumb over the back of
Quinn's hand; it felt icy. "Here, take my coat. I have
plenty of layers on. I'm only this wrapped up in case
you tied me to a post for the night. I couldn't bear the
idea of you catching hypothermia."

"You're just like your father." Quinn smiled as she


graciously allowed Rachel to swing the coat around
her shoulders. She swallowed as Rachel's knuckles
brushed her neck gently as she aligned the collar; her
heart seemed to be trying to make a leap for her
throat.

"I'm glad you met him." There was a twinkle in


Rachel's eye as she saw Quinn about to speak in
objection." Daddy couldn't help himself I'm afraid. He's
not very good at keeping secrets, but he certainly
didn't say it out loud. My pappy and I spent most of
Friday evening trying to work out what he was
attempting to communicate to us via the means of
mime and charades. And I actually think he would
make a talented cheerleader."

Quinn laughed. "How on earth did we manage to be


at each other's houses at the same time?"

"Too alike; that's why we clash." Rachel still had one


hand clutched onto the coat, keeping their bodies
comfortably close.

"Have we ever, y'know, hugged?' Quinn asked shyly.

"Probably, I mean, surely... we must have... in


moments of high joy and low discernment."

"May I hug you now?"

"I don't know. Puck said -" Rachel stopped abruptly,


thinking about 'Rule One' . She hadn't intended to tell
Quinn that she'd stood back on the advice of
someone else.

"Said what?" Quinn prompted.

"That I shouldn't allow physical interaction until I have,


as he put it, 'got you whipped'." The words fell out of
her mouth rapidly.

"And have you?"


"What? "

"Got me sufficiently 'whipped' yet?" Quinn frowned


and narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know what a whipped Quinn would act like.


Sorry, that sounded wrong. Y ou've got me tongue-
tied; before long I'll be speaking goggledybook. I
mean goddedynook. Gobbledygook!" Rachel closed
her eyes and stopped for a moment. "Kurt said that I
shouldn't give in to any of your advances at all.

"Oh my goodness, you have been 'Cyranoed', haven't


you?" Quinn shook her head, partially with dismay,
partially in disbelief.

"Well, not really, because, in the original, Edmund


Rostand's character of Cyrano de Bergerac was the
one providing the advice to a less worthy candidate.
In my case, I was the one receiving comment. If,
however, I had prompted, say, Sam with words to lure
your good favor then that -"

"I know the story. Our situation is just flipped around a


little."

"In that case, you do realize that you've just labelled


yourself as the beautiful Roxane and me as the large-
nosed, male protagonist?"

"Oh." Quinn winced and looked truly sorry. "I didn't


mean to make the association, Rachel." Rachel's
stomach dropped at the sound of Quinn saying her
first name. "You don't... I don't think... please don't
think I ever said those awful things because I think
they're true. They're not, honest."

"I think I see what a whipped Quinn suddenly looks


like." A quirky smile appeared on Rachel's lips.

"I am. I don't know how to do this," she admitted,


feeling lost. "I don't know how to be the one who
could get hurt. Normally, I play it safe and I play it
strong. I choose people - guys- who are completely
wrapped up in me, smitten, and who need me more
than I need them."

"Rule Two," Rachel said under her breath.

"You have rules for dating?"

"Puck's rules, not mine. If I happened to create rules


for dating, they would not only be quantifiable but also
eloquently composed."

"Are there more? Of Puck's rules."

"I'll tell you later... perhaps." Rachel shook her head.


"Maybe."

"Either way, the advice you received seems to have


been warning you off me." Quinn frowned. "Everyone
I talked to thought we should get together."

"Now who's been 'Cyranoed'?" Rachel smirked.

"You got me." She tilted her head. "I didn't know what
to do either, so I asked around. I've never been in this
position before. I've never been the one doing the
chasing. And I've definitely never fallen for a woman
before."

Rachel blinked and tried to remain composed. "If we


date, you're not gonna get to be prom queen."

"I don't care," Quinn dismissed readily.

"Of course you care."

"I don't." Quinn reached over and pressed at Rachel's


side; she heard her breath catch. "How about you,
when you're famous? They'll drag this up, taunt you
with it."

"I don't care." Rachel smiled. "Perhaps we could try


for that hug now," she said quietly, attempting to
swallow her nerves. They nudged closer, the
proximity becoming more intense as the gap closed.

"This is silly. I mean, you've kissed me. Why is a hug


so... so... it feels so impossible."

"Because, first and foremost, it's about friendship, I


guess." Quinn frowned, her hands pressing down
hard on her knees.

"I want to be your friend."

"Please just hug me already."

Rachel did as bid, not because she was asked, but


because she wanted it. She could smell the heady
scent of Quinn's shampoo, of her beautiful skin. A
deep inhale caused her chest to rise and close the
gap even more. They hugged tighter. "This feels like
more than friendship," she uttered almost directly into
Quinn's ear, causing Quinn to shiver slightly, as
Rachel's fingers dug pleasantly into her back.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Quinn asked, her voice


reduced to a husky whisper.

"All the time. I'm just waiting for the right moment."
Rachel slid the tip of her nose along Quinn's jawline.

"Is that before or after I die from waiting for your lips
to hit mine?"

As soon as the door closed and the lock clicked, Will,


Sue and Terri realized they'd been tricked.

"You'll pay for this big time, Lopez," Sue screamed at


the top of her lungs.
"Great, my cell doesn't work in here. What is it? Lead
lined?"

Sue curled her lip with annoyance. "Yes, actually. It


just happens to double as my Third World War
bunker. So when you kids are doing the old 'duck and
cover', I will be preserved for future generations. Got
a problem with that?"

"Will, don't sit there, it's dirty," Terri chastized.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, Terri." He


replied, ignoring her advice.

"Fine. Just don't look to me when you find you have


marks all over the ass of those chinos."

"You know what, William?" Sue grinned. "I'm happy


right now, because I am reminded that you were once
married to a woman who is just like me, and she
made your life a living hell."

"Thanks for that, Sue." He shook his head with


dismay. Sue stuck her tongue out at him rebelliously
before turning away to build a throne-like chair out of
boxes. "Terri and I had some great times. It just
ended badly. Don't judge us on how we are now."

"That was a sweet thing to say, Will." Terri held her


hand to her chest as she sank down to sit on a
basketball. "Did you mean what you said?"
He coyly glanced over at her and sighed. "Y'know, I
really, really wish I could forgive you."

"Try stuffing it down into an itty bitty ball in the pit of


your stomach. I find it helps." Terri nodded
encouragingly.

Will shook his head forlornly, a faint smile on his lips.


"If only it were that easy. God, I wish it were that easy.
When I look at you..."

"Yes?" Terri prompted keenly.

"When I look at you, the love is -"

"Die! Die! Die!" Sue screamed.

"What?" Will and Terri looked up shocked and


puzzled.

Sue peered out from the Gameboy she had been


pressing at frantically, and unsuctioned a foamy plug
from each ear canal. "I'm sorry. Were you saying
something? I thought you were just lip flapping for
your own amusement."

Will rolled his eyes and pointed at the handheld


console. "What are you playing, Sue?"

"I, William, am apparently playing Castlevania: The


Adventure, and I'm very good at it because this little
guy on the left here has died around forty times so far.
Chairman Mao eat your heart out."

"Oh my God." His eyes lit up, and a smile that could
compete with The Joker spread across his gleeful
face. "I remember that. In fact -" he looked over her
shoulder "- that's my Gameboy. That's incredible. I
forgot I'd had it taken from me." He took it from Sue's
hands and tapped at the screen with his finger. Out of
his view, Terri rolled her eyes. "I was absolutely
obsessed with video games back then. I got into
trouble with all the teachers because it was pretty
much always glued to my face. They said it would
give me square eyes."

"No, just an over-inflated sense of self-importance,"


Sue muttered.

Terri covered a laugh.

"This... is the reason I joined our glee club." He looked


to one side, clearly reminiscing. Will thought back to
that day.

Sue made a motion of sticking her fingers down her


throat and dry retching.

"Go on, Will." Terri pushed at his elbow." I'm sure Sue
would love to hear the story."
"Yes, please make me suffer a slow, agonizing death
worse than being eaten by a score of ravenous
terrapins."

[Flash to Will Schuester's freshman year]

Will dragged his fingers through his well-gelled hair.


"Hey, Spike, you coming over to mine tonight? The
Fresh Prince of Bel Air is on and my mom's making
meatloaf." He received a positive gesture. "Cool,
man," he breathed, only to come to a sudden stop
when he saw the familiar, svelte figure of the senior
April Rhodes tottering in his direction. Swallowing, he
ducked his head down shyly and pulled out his
Gameboy. She floated past and stopped a little way
down, pulling out a tiny bottle of liquid and indiscreetly
downing a gulp. He was about to pluck up his courage
and go up to her when the ominous sound of Miss
DuPont's voice rang in his ears.

"Billy Schuester," she intoned.

"Zoiks," he said under his breath as he raised his chin


to meet the stare of his form teacher's horn-rimmed
spectacles.

"I thought I told you not to bring that device into


school, young man," she scolded. "It will rot your
brain."

Will looked around nervously, his Adam's apple


bouncing. He was about to apologize when he noticed
April smiling at him. She was mouthing words of
encouragment and punching the air playfully.

'What would Luke Perry do?' he asked himself. He


chest rose and he glared directly back at her. "Don't
have a cow, teach." Will nodded and crossed his arms
self-assuredly. It wasn't quite what he was intending
to say but it seemed to have the desired effect. The
other pupils laughed gaily, but the red hot stare he
received from his teacher said it all. He gulped and
handed over his Gameboy.

Will twiddled his thumbs and let out a long exhale.


He'd never been in this much trouble before; his heart
was racing with fear. Matters weren't helped by the
fact that he was sitting beside a pretty, blonde
cheerleader who was also waiting to be seen by the
Principal. "I hear the new guy isn't too bad," he said
softly.

"I hear he has a hundred ghetto orphans shoveling


body parts of dead sub-standard pupils into the
furnace to heat the building," she replied.

"No. Way." He looked at her wide eyed and she


laughed at his gullible, but clearly sweet nature. He
smiled shyly. "So why are you here?"

"I broke a mirror in the bathroom." She checked her


cuticles for imperfections.
"How?"

"I threw a member of the Glee Club at it and now


she's sort of unconscious in hospital," she uttered
simply. "I'm Terri Delmonico." She held out her hand
for him to shake, which he did with much trepidation.

"Billy Schuester."

"Billy? You're not going to get far with a name like


that. You should be Will." She looked him up and
down. "Also, cut your hair and lose the jacket."
Reaching up, she pulled at the metal-banded
headphones hanging around his neck. "What've you
been listening to?" Slowly, she ran her finger down
the wire until she reached the Sony Walkman looped
onto his belt. She pressed the eject button almost
sensually and Will felt his breath catch in his throat
when the tape deck popped open. She examined the
tape and Will turned bright red. "Michael Jackson,"
she pouted. "Can you dance like him?"

For Will, that moment seemed like a turning point.


Someone, a girl, of all people, was asking to see what
he'd done only in his bedroom all alone. Courage rose
in his chest. "I can do more than that." He jumped to
his feet, grabbed a trilby from the hat stand and
moonwalked across the polished floor. Spinning on
his heel, he stopped and began to sing. "I'm gonna
make a change, for once in my life. It's gonna feel real
good, gonna make a difference. Gonna make it right.
As I turned up the collar on my favorite winter coat,
this wind is blowin' my mind -"

"Schuester!" yelled the Principal through the suddenly


open door. "Get in here, and take my damned hat off."

Will spun to a stop and nodded to the man.

Terri grabbed his sleeve, momentarily contemplated


his behind, then looked up at him with eager blue
eyes. "See you around, Will."

"What?" he asked, his lip quirking with confusion.

She just smiled confidently. Will nodded and with a


full heart, bounded into the office.

Principal Griffin sat back in his squeaking office chair,


placing his interlinked hands on his balding head. "I
was going to send you for detention, but -" he
coughed "- after news that one of the Glee Club
members has now fallen into a coma, I have a
proposition for you..."

[Flash to present]

"My heart is so warmed by your story, it's almost


begun to beat again." Sue got up and began rooting
around on shelves.
Terri tapped at her cheek. "Will, you embellish. It
could barely be labeled a coma; it lasted only a few
weeks. That's more like a pleasantly freshing nap."

"She had to be home schooled after, Terri."

"So?" she asked.

"Because of her new fear of mirrors, bathrooms and


cheerleaders?"

"Well, let's forget about that. It's nice to see you, Will,
even if it is in captive circumstances."

"Yeah, it is." He couldn't help but smile, rmemories of


the girl he once knew foremost in his mind.

"Do you think there might be a crowbar in here?" Sue


interrupted their quiet, reverential moment.

"You want to break open the door?" Will raised an


eyebrow in concern.

"No, I want to knock you unconscious before you light


a campfire and begin singing 'Kum Ba Ya'."

He smirked. "I'll be quiet, Sue. I've got my baby back."


Terri looked hopeful but then realized he was looking
lovingly at his Gameboy.

Sue snatched it from his hands and flung it at the tiny


window. It smashed and flew gracefully through the
opening. "Fetch, Rover."

"Thank you," Terri muttered.

"Sue! Why do you always make peoples' lives


miserable?"

"Not all people, William, just ones I hate, and anyone


who doesn't live up to my standards of excellence."
Sue rubbed her shoulders, chilled by the new breeze.
"Well? Aren't you going to offer me your jacket like the
gentleman that you are?"

"I thought you were cold blooded anyway, Sue." Will


began to scrutinize the contents of one of the boxes.
"I need to get out of here. Didn't we take a flare gun
off Puck once? We need to alert someone to our
presence."

"No flare gun, but if you can find a confiscated lighter,


we could use these?" She proudly held up a brightly
coloured box.

"A lighter?" Will tapped at his chin and smiled. "Let's


see... we seem to have... about a hundred. Let's do
it."

Quinn closed her eyes and her stomach dropped and


rolled for the eighth time. "However much I like the
feeling, this really is gonna kill me, Rachel."
"I know, but I don't like to take to the stage until the
audience is almost clamoring for my presence."

In her head, Quinn objected to the comparison, but


didn't verbalize for fear of Rachel simply leaving." Is
this my payback?" She reached over and stroked hair
out of Rachel's eyeline, wanting to look her directly in
her eyes.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Taking Quinn by surprise,


Rachel rushed into the kiss. It wasn't like the first, nor
the second or the third. But this fourth kiss was the
one they had been waiting for. The one that actually
meant something. "I. Like. You. Too." Rachel spoke
into Quinn's mouth, each word punctuated with a peck
to the lips. She felt like she could feel the world
turning underneath them. Time slowed. Then the
fireworks started. Literal fireworks, which shot from a
small, broken window in the school.

The dazzling display was accompanied by the


screams of rivaling cheerleaders in the parking lot
finally giving up waiting for their coaches, and
descending into a loud, violent brawl.

"Did you...?" Rachel indicated the myriad of colors


exploding in the sky.

"No. I assume that you didn't either. So who...?"


"We're just lucky, I guess." Rachel looked back at
Quinn and couldn't help herself. "You're beautiful."

Tears appeared in Quinn's eyes. So much bottled


inside, so much front that she had upheld for so long.
Rachel pulled her close and kissed her hair. For the
first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe.

[Monday]

Finn and Brittany shielded their eyes from the light as


they stepped out and onto the road by McKinley High.
Finn double banged on the closed door to indicate the
all clear.

"Thank you, Mr Headbanger Babycruncher." Brittany


jumped and waved at the enormous bearded driver as
the Playboy delivery vehicle pulled away. "Wasn't he
the nicest?"

"Yeah, totally, and he gave me all this free porn; I can


give it to Puck for his birthday."

"I had the best time," Brittany said coyly, hands


clasped behind her back.

"Me too," he grinned. "I can't wait to tell everyone that


we're in Zombieland II. Everyone is going to die with
jealousy when they see that guy pull your ear off and
eat your neck. "
"I know. It was pretty awesome when they had your
eyes fall out. And I'm glad you've got them back now."
She reached up and stroked her fingertips through his
hair.

"The police chase was cool too," Finn grinned.

"The one in the movie? "

"No, the one just before you made a leap for the perp
they were chasing." Finn held her by the cheek. "How
you restrained him by wrapping your legs around his
throat... I'll never know."

"I can show you later if you like."

"Uh, yeah, that would rock." He coughed and turned a


little red.

"It was nice of the mayor to put us up in that hotel too


-" she looked down at herself and surveyed her new
dress "- and to buy us these new clothes for that
weird ceremony they did."

"Yeah, though what do we do with this key they gave


us?" He held up a large gold key to the city.

Brittany ran her ringer across the metal. "Maybe they


lock some really big gates at night."

"Awesome. "
Santana was back in Sue's office, but this time she
was there for a disciplinary.

"I'm going to have you expelled from this school like a


hunk of phlegm from the back of my throat," Sue
sneered.

"No, you're not," Santana said confidently, sweeping


her long hair over her shoulder.

"Don't speak to your superior like that."

Santana crossed her arms. "Let me explain. My dad is


a doctor, my uncle is a lawyer, my grandpapa is a
mobster and my mother is royal bitch."

"My fourth cousin was involved in the death of Diana


Princess of Wales, but you don't see me shooting my
mouth off about it, d'you?" Sue stood up and put her
hands on her desk.

"I'll say it more clearly. My mother is a bitch who just


happens to be on the school board. Keep my record
clean or she will have you fired."

Sue sat back down quietly. "I like your attitude, Lopez.
Perhaps I've been rash. What shall we say, once your
wrist is healed... promotion to the top of the pyramid
and your own personal tanning booth?"
"Tempting, but no."

"Okay, fine, you get your way." Sue bit her lip. "You
can have Becky to peel grapes for you every Tuesday
and Thursday."

"She may give the best back rubs this side of Lima,
but it's still a no. And I'll say this clearly. I say no
because I quit, Coach."

"What?" Sue uttered incredulously.

"You heard," she uttered darkly, looking down her


nose at her former Coach.

"You'll become nothing," Sue growled.

"At least I'll be me." Turning on her sharp heel, she


strode out, zipped up her tight jacket and slammed
Sue's door behind her. Puck was right, her reputation
preceded her and no one would mess with that. She
winked at a young math geek; his books immediately
lowered from his face to his belt as he blushed. The
plaster cast actually seemed to help, especially since
she'd paid Jacob Ben Israel to spread the rumor that
she had damaged her wrist by punching Karofsky in
the back of the head. She didn't need to be a Cheerio
to feel empowered.

"Santana!"
"Britt ?" She whipped round so fast that Brittany
collided headlong with her and they both fell to the
floor .

"How are you? "

"I... I'm doing okay," Santana replied as they picked


each other up.

"Finn and I had the best weekend. I wish you could


have been there."

'Trust Brittany S. Pierce and Finn Hudson to make a


party out of a crisis . To them a gas explosion would
be a pretty bonfire to make and eat S'mores by,'
thought Santana. "I guess you'll be wanting this back."
She reached behind her head and began to unclasp
the heart locket Brittany had given to her for her
sweet sixteen. "Can you help me out? I can't undo it."

Brittany frowned. "Did I do something bad?"

"No, sweetie, I'm just moving on. You've got Finn now
and he's the commitment, serious, dull type."

"But I love you." Brittany cocked her head to one side,


utterly confused.

"You're gonna love him more some day." Santana


sighed.
"You're both important."

"Just... don't keep bailing on me, okay?" She frowned


and licked her lips.

Brittany nodded keenly. "Can I sign your arm?"

Santana let her, even though she'd forbidden


everyone else from doing so. She'd even turned down
Puck who wanted to draw a hand with raised middle
finger. It would, after all, save time when people
offended her. She still might let him. That, or she'd get
Mike to draw one of his cool animé women. Tattooed
rock-chick style seemed a good direction to try post-
Cheerio. She looked down to see what Brittany had
written on the cast. 'You'll always be my first. Love
you forever, B.' Santana decided to leave the rest
blank after all.

"And I thought I was controlling," Rachel near


shouted, stamping her foot down hard on the tiles of
the bathroom floor, mildly frightening the other
occupants.

"Hah. When you could barely control your butt into


those jeans?" Quinn retaliated, her hip leaning against
the bank of washbasins.

The other girls waltzed out the door. Rachel checked


the stalls to ensure she and Quinn were quite alone,
then checked her watch. "Oh, gotta go, ttylb." She
stood on tip toe to nudge a kiss onto Quinn's soft lips.

Quinn smiled serenely. "Wait," she blinked. "Come


back to Glee club. Please. It's not the same without
you."

"Okay, I will, and thank you."

"For what?" Quinn frowned and tipped her head to


one side.

"You're the one person I needed to hear that from."


Rachel tugged at Quinn's waistband playfully.

"Is it going to be weird?"

"No doubt, but perhaps no more than it was before.


You and I have always had our tensions." Rachel
quirked an eyebrow coquettishly and made Quinn
blush.

"When should we tell people?" Quinn asked. "About


us."

"If it's okay, I'd like to keep it to ourselves for now, to


reduce the interference caused by other people's
opinion. Keep our rel... keep us out of the limelight."
Rachel was busy building parallels between school
life and her future in showbiz. "I'd like to get to know
the real Quinn Fabray first."
"She's messed up. You won't want her." Quinn folded
her arms defensively.

"But I do want her. I've wanted her even when she


didn't want me." Rachel's eyes expressed everything
she couldn't say. Pulling at Quinn's arms she said:
"Rule three."

"Rule three?"

"Don't let the bitches get you down. You wanted to


know."

"Oh."

"Quinn, I don't think you're a bitch." Leaning over,


Rachel kissed her deeply on the mouth. "So, should I
prepare anything for Glee club ?"

"Please do! The theme is second chances, and we've


all entirely failed to come up with something we can
all agree on. If we don't, Mr Schuester will have us
sing some old billboard hit we've never heard of."

Rachel smiled broadly. "I have just the song."

Everyone in the auditorium was smiling. After her


recent power kick, Santana didn't even mind the fact
that Finn and Brittany were being gooey-eyed with
each other. Quinn and Rachel reserved their
affections for later, resorting only to sly glances.
Above all, everyone was glad to see Rachel, and she
really hadn't been expecting it.

The music kicked in and Finn tapped his foot. "A


strangled smile fell from your face," he sang with a
frown. "Oh, it kills me that I hurt you this way. The
worst part is that I didn't even know." The other boys
joined in. "Now there's a million reasons for you to
go." In the background, Kurt spun Rachel in circles.
She twirled off in Quinn's direction but was pushed
into Santana's arms. "But, if you can find a reason to
stay." Much to everyone's amusement, Santana
tangoed Rachel towards the front of the stage.
Mercedes grabbed her hand and pulled her round into
a hug, before Sam picked her up by the waist and
spun on the spot. She giggled dizzily. "I'll do whatever
it takes... to turn this around. I know what's at stake. I
know that I've let you down." Everyone weaved into
position and walked forward, all singing in union
around the spinning pair. "And if you give me a
chance, believe that I can change. I'll keep us
together. Whatever it takes." Sam set Rachel down
and she found herself pulled forward by both hands:
Brittany on one side, Puck on the other. "Ah-bub-bah-
buh-ba," everyone harmonized.

"She said..." The boys raised their hands as the girls


took over, all gathered together on one side of the
stage, facing the absent audience, hands on their
hearts. "If we're gonna make this work... you gotta let
me inside, even though it hurts. Don't hide the broken
parts that I need to see."

"She said..." Quinn grabbed at Rachel's waist and


turned her sharply so that they faced each other. "Like
it or not, it's the way it's gotta be." She approached
her with a wicked grin, forcing Rachel to blindly step
backwards towards the edge of the stage. Trust
paramount. "You gotta love yourself, if you can ever
love me."

The girls lined up at the front, ho lding hands . The


boys stood behind. "I'll do whatever it takes to turn
this around. I know what's at stake. I know that I've let
you down. And if you give me a chance and give me a
break, I'll keep us together. I know you deserve much
better." Each girl got pulled back and replaced by a
boy so that they could rock out a little. "Remember the
time I told you the way that I felt and that I'd be lost
without you and never find myself. Let's hold onto
each other above everything else. Start over, start
over."

From his seat, Will looked on with pride. If there was


any lesson he could ever teach them, it was to always
overcome your differences. He reached into his
pocket for his wallet and pulled out his well-thumbed
wedding photograph. He placed it against his lips
before tucking it away.

Once again stepping behind the girls, the boys


wrapped their arms around their waists. Tina sat on
Artie's lap. Everyone swayed in time with the music.
"I'll do whatever it takes to turn this around. I know
what's at stake. I know that I've let you down. And if
you give me a chance, believe that I can change."
Rachel looked out of the corner of her eye at Quinn
and smiled. "I'll keep us together. Whatever it takes.
Ah-bub-bah-buh-ba-bah-buh-ba."

[Next time on Glee]

[Sectionals is just around the corner and emotions are


running high]

Will grinned. "We need new blood to raise our game.


Welcome to..." He pulled back the sheet to reveal a
sign: "'McKinley Idol'."

"Mr Schue?" Rachel raised a hand.

"No, Rachel, you can't audition."

[Tina's having issues at home and is keeping things


close to her chest]

"But, cara mia," Artie purred in his Gomez Addams


voice.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Tina ran away in tears.

[Quinn has a few secrets of her own to share .]


"My sister's got a job at Hooters." Quinn glowered.

Puck's ears pricked up: "Which state did you say her
college was in?"

[While things get surreal...]

Brittany bounced excitedly. "Triple yay."

"Double yuck," Santana sneered.

[Prepare yourself as we say a warm hello to Sue...


Cowell?]

Sue winced at the girl's last note. "Is this a knife I see
before me, or are you just painfully sharp?"

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Timeline: Post "Furt." Pre "Special Education."

A/N: Mistakes are mine because it's fanfiction and I


don't see the point in caring about things like grammar
or typos. Also, this is going to be a pretty short story
that has pretty long chapters if that makes any sense
at all.

PART ONE

It wasn't a form of vengeance. It wasn't out of spite. It


wasn't even really for a good laugh. It was simply born
out of boredom. Frustrated boredom. And it wasn't
even his frustrated boredom.

It all started a couple of weeks ago around the time


he got out of juvie. Actually, it was the day all the guys
sang for Coach Beiste. (He still wasn't really sure why
they were singing to her, but whatever cause she
could actually coach.) After they all changed out of
their blue suits, Finn asked him if he wanted to hang
out. Puck agreed because they were bros again, and
as cool as Artie was being, he still had more in
common with Finn. Plus, his mom would be happy.
She always thought Finn was a "good influence" on
him. It'd be fun, and after his last couple of weeks, he
was looking forward to it. One problem: Finn didn't
come alone.

When Finn followed him to his house, he stepped out


of his car with that Bieber-head kid. Unlike Finn, Puck
wasn't an idiot. He knew what Finn was doing. Since
Finn stated dating Berry, he really got into that glee-
leader crap. Puck was sure the only reason he
brought Sam over was so Puck would be fine with him
and Quinn. And yeah, okay, that kinda sucked, but it
wasn't something he was going to cry over. As much
as he still cared for Quinn, most of the time she was
more of a pest than a pleasure. He figured she felt the
same about him. So he was actually fine with Sam.
He wasn't going to punch him in his face or anything.
Besides, because of his circumstances, he couldn't
anyway.

They spent the first hour playing video games and


talking Titans football. There was also some talk
about body building that Finn stayed out of while he
and Sam talked weights. Then the blonde
complimented him on his guns which was weird
because he was a guy and everything, but Puck didn't
really care because, well, they were his guns. Plus,
Sam seemed to know what he was talking about. The
three were having a good time. It was when they
turned off the X-Box that things changed, and their
conversation shifted to girls.

He doesn't remember who complained first, Finn or


Sam, but they complained no less. Apparently Q and
Berry were still teasing but not pleasing. Rachel
because she didn't plan on having sex until she was
25, and Quinn because she didn't want to repeat last
year. Puck just hid his smirks and resisted the urge to
tell them that he was pretty sure he'd gotten further
with both glee girls. Actually, he kinda stayed out of
the conversation and just watched SportsCenter. It
wasn't like he had any advice for them. The only thing
he could think to tell them would be to date Brittany
and Santana. He doubted that'd help.

His fellow teammates continued to assure everyone in


the room that they did indeed love their girlfriends or
whatever; they just also wanted to sleep with them. It
was all so fucking stupid. It was high school. It wasn't
like any of them would all still talk after they
graduated. If they wanted to have sex so bad, they
just need to find a girl who was willing to have sex
with them. If that wasn't Quinn or Rachel they should
move on to someone else. It wasn't like sex was all
that different with someone you loved rather than just
another person. Yeah, the night he spent with Quinn
actually meant something. And because it led to Beth
it would forever remain the most important and
precious sex he's ever had, but it still wasn't the
greatest thing ever. As hot as Quinn was, she was
inexperienced, vulnerable, and drunk. All in all, that
night could've (and should've) been a lot better for the
both of them.

Puck may have said a lot of this out loud because he


distinctly remembers the other boys vehemently
disagreeing with him. Then they just kept talking, kept
complaining, kept reassuring, and kept wishing
Rachel and Quinn were different. Puck still found all
of this so fucking stupid. He told them if they weren't
gonna drop them they should try and change them.
They argued that this would never happen and that
they didn't want to change them. It went back and
forth until Puck got pissed enough and told them to go
jerk off to an imaginary Quinn and Rachel.

That caused the conversation to calm down and


actually become sort of a joke. It became a joke about
an imaginary Quinn and an imaginary Rachel. Then it
went on to other imaginary glee members. Then to
imaginary conversations. Then relationships. Then
situations until imaginary became bizarre and highly
unlikely. It was all really funny to the three of them
because the more they talked, the later it got and
everything seemed funny. The first imaginary story
they wrote down was one where characters based on
Mr. Schue and Miss Sylvester played strip poker in
"Miss Phillsbury's" office. It was really random, and
they laughed about it until Finn and Sam headed
home.

The next day they traded texts with more imaginary


randomness. They drew obscene comic strips in class
of more unreal and improbable stories. It became a
pointless hobby that was all for fun until they decided
to write a short story about "Rachel Cherry" and
"Quinn Fabrat." It was by far the least likely of
scenarios that they had come up with. But it was also
kinda funny, pretty hot, and seemed to help Finn and
Sam with their teasing-but-not-pleasing problems. So
they wrote another story between the characters. And
another one. And another one until all they were
writing was Rachel and Quinn stories. The stories
became chapters. The chapters became a book. It
was all free therapy and pointless fun. It didn't mean
anything to anyone. At least not before a certain
cheerio found it.

Sunday November 28, 2010

Santana's life sucked right now. No one could tell by


looking at her, but it did. She screwed up with
Brittany. She played the popular cheerleader role, and
said things she didn't entirely mean. For the first time
in the history of their relationship, Brittany got mad at
her. So like anyone would do in her position, she
made it up to the blonde, and things seemed to go
back to normal. Still, there was a subtle difference in
their relationship, and that was proven the moment
Artie rolled along. Brittany actually started dating him.
It wasn't so much of a shock that it was Artie. It was a
shock that she was dating anyone. Brittany, like
herself, didn't ever really date. So this was just weird.
She wasn't worried though. So far Artie seemed to be
a pretty good boyfriend. Besides, it was Wheels. What
was the worst that could happen?

She doubted that that they had some epic romance


where they were completely in love with each other.
She figured Brittany just wanted to be dating right
now; she doubted it mattered with whom. She'd never
admit it to anyone, not even herself, but she
understood Brittany's desire for a stable relationship.
It'd be a nice change of pace to be with someone
remotely trustworthy and have absolutely no
pressure. It was fun romping around with Brittany in
locker rooms and slyly linking pinkies with her, but it'd
be nice to actually be able to hold someone's hand in
the hallway once in a while; or go to Breadstix with a
purpose other than to obtain breadsticks.

She feels stupid. She probably could've manipulated


Finn into doing that sort of thing with her last year.
Hell, she could probably get him to do it this year. He
was an ideal paper cut out of what a boyfriend should
be. He'd treat her nicely. He was great for any girl's
reputation. He was too stupid to realize when he was
being controlled. And she would totally control him.
She knew the tricks. She played witness to his entire
relationship with Quinn. It's almost too easy to get
him. Of course, then again, Berry would throw a fit.
That'd be more of a hassle than Finn was worth. As
fun as it would be to see Berry's face if she told them
about her and Finn's sexcapades, there was no point
in letting that out right now. She was sure Brittany and
Artie would end in the next week or so, and things
would just regress to how they were. Breaking up
Rachel and Finn should be saved for a time when she
absolutely had nothing else to do or look forward to.

Besides, she had good ole Puckerman anyway. Sure,


they weren't technically dating, but if they were
monogamous individuals they would be. Right?
Probably. Though, she couldn't ever really picture
herself dating him. He was as terrible as she was.
Take right now for an example. The moment they get
done fucking, he just rolls off and announces that he's
going to take a quick shower. Now she's left trying to
find her clothes in his room which is just disgusting.
His own clothes both clean and dirty were thrown
everywhere. There was pizza on his TV and burger
containers on his dresser. It was like a scavenger
hunt looking for her things.
She was mostly dressed. All she had left to find was
one of her socks and panties. It wouldn't really matter
if she left them. She just prefers to have them on. It
was that whole always-wear-clean-underwear adage.
Not that they were clean anymore. She took a quick
glance around the room and replayed the events of
what took place here over the last half hour or so.
First they came through the door –obviously– then
they dragged each other over to and against the…
night stand. Bingo. She walked around the bed and to
the other side of the room only to find no sock or
panties. She sighed kneeled down before reaching
under Puck's bed. Sure enough, that's where her
underwear resided. She pulled them out, and
grimaced when her hand definitely brush up against
something spongy and moist. Forget the adage. She
left the panties where they were, and wiped her hands
on her jean-clad thighs.

As she prepared to use the bed to pull herself back


up, something caught her eyes. Santana knew his
room about as well as she knew Brittany's which was
about as well as she knew her own. She was able to
spot the even smallest of differences in any of the
three, and this was definitely new. There had never
been any magazines stored between Puck's mattress
and box spring before. She smirked. Puck was
someone who took pride in and actually bragged to
her before about not having a use for porn. His mind
was a porn spread. Obviously something's changed.
Santana took a quick glance over her shoulder to
make sure Puck wasn't coming back before grabbing
onto the stack of paper. She frowned when she pulled
out something that was so not a porno mag.

The Adventures of Rachel Cherry and Quinn Fabrat

A novel by: Puckzilla, Sam the Man, and Finncredible

She rolled her eyes. Great. Just what she needed to


read. Puck, Finn, and Sam fawning over their
girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, baby-mamas, or whatever
they were to them. She pulled herself up and took a
seat on the edge of the bed. Rachel and Quinn: Two
minor banes of her existence. Her animosity with
Rachel wasn't anything new. It was her relationship
with Quinn that had changed this year. It wasn't a big
as change as the rest of the school assumed. She
and Quinn were never exactly true friends. They were
more friends through circumstances.

Santana had first met Quinn Fabray freshmen year at


Sue Sylvester's extreme cheerio tryouts. They bonded
over their shared goals: Be popular, be successful,
and get the hell out of Lima. The two formed an
alliance. With Santana came Brittany resulting in the
three of them becoming a team within a team. She
and Quinn were conniving and ruthless, and they
made sure to make their mark on the squad; dragging
Brittany with them. The difference between the two
was that Santana knew when to take a break and
have fun. Quinn didn't, and that hurt Santana because
when it came time to pick a new captain, Sue didn't
hesitate in choosing Quinn. From there, Santana and
Brittany just became her second and third in
command.

She didn't like this or find it fair, but she diligently


played her part until Quinn slipped up. When Quinn
got pregnant it gave Santana every opportunity.
That's why she hinted to Jewfro that Quinn was eating
for two. Jacob went to Sue and Quinn fell. Hard. She
supposed Quinn going to Sue this year was payback.
In fact, she probably should've expected it after she
found out Brittany told Quinn about her summer
surgery. Either way, the two had been at odds since,
and now it was Santana's turn to make a move. Plus,
it would be fun because the blonde was consistently
pissing her off with her snarkiness and new boyfriend.
(And she thought Quinn hearts Finn was bad.)

This –what she assumed was poorly written– book


was bound to prove that Quinn's newest accessory
was annoyingly love struck with her. She could
practically hear Sam's words now: "Her eyes were like
two hazel circles with black dots in the middle." Of
course, Finn's probably weren't going to be much
better: "Rachel could sing like as good as really great
singers." And there was no doubt that Puck's sections
spoke about hot Jews and hot pregnant chicks.
Santana scoffed and began to leaf through the book
to confirm her predictions.

It wasn't nearly as crappy writing as she suspected,


but it had all the loving accolades. The first page of
whatever chapter she flipped to wasted hundreds of
pointless words describing how hot the authors all
thought their 'characters' were. Okay, seriously did
they even know the girls these 'characters' were
based off of. Quinn Fabrat was currently chasing
Rachel Cherry through an empty "McKinky High."
Unless it was in the heat of a smackdown, the real
Quinn would never do that. There was no way was no
way Quinn would follow Berry and then have a civil
conversation with her and then- wait a minute. Holy
shit! This wasn't an extended love letter. This was Q
and RuPaul doing some very Brittana things against a
wall in a classroom. Santana quickly flipped through
some other chapters to see if they were all like this.
When it was very clear that they were, she paused
and sat agape. After five or so seconds passed by,
her mouth finally closed before reopening only to let
out a bellyaching laugh.

This was absolutely hilarious to her. She seriously


wanted to send a copy of this to Quinn. She couldn't
decide what would be funnier: Quinn's face after
finding out it was about her and Rachel, or Little Miss
Chastity being exposed to porn about herself in
general. Actually, she'd like to see everyone's
reaction to this. It was just so…damaging really. She
quickly stopped laughing and thought about what she
was holding. In the wrong hands or taken out of
context, this was a gleeking time bomb ready to go
off.

Santana looked up when she heard shuffling in the


doorway. Puck froze when he realized what she was
holding. There were so many things she wanted to
say to him right now. Instead, she just held up the
book and arched an eyebrow. He dropped his
dampened towel to the floor with a sigh.

November 29, 2010

Jacob Ben Israel tossed his bag out of the dumpster


before pulling himself out of the giant, steel box. One
day they'll all be sorry for doing this to him. One day
he'll take over the world and marry Rachel Berry.
Then they'll all be sorry. He pulled off old lettuce from
his hoody, and headed into his school. He whimpered
out a sigh when it was clear he waited too long in the
dumpster for the jocks to disappear. First period had
already started. He hurried to his classroom, but
never got there as he was blindly pulled into an empty
one. Threatening to tell his story of being bullied to
the world, he hoped to scare off who he assumed to
be the same football players that had already
attacked him this morning. Instead he turned around
only to find a very bored looking Santana Lopez.

She shut the only door and faced him fully. He put on
his best charming smile. "Come to finally stop denying
the sexual attraction between us."

"Okay, I think I just threw up a little bit in my stomach."


She shook away the thought before approaching her
prey.

Jacob held up his hands as she trapped him between


her and a desk. "I have no problem hitting a woman if
she's attacking me." He warned in his nasally tone.

She rolled her eyes. "Look Jewfro, I'm not gonna try
and shave your head again. I just want to have a
conversation." She sent him an all-knowing smile
before taking a step back.

"A conversation about what?" He stood up straight


against the desk. "Any damming gleecrets you feel
like sharing?"

She smirked and headed over to the teacher's desk.


"Something like that." She turned back around holding
a stack of paper. "I have a proposition for you."

"Could you say that once again but slower?"

She dropped the stack down on the nearest desk, and


Jacob jumped at the loud thud it left. His fear
continued, and he gulped as Santana hunted him
down again. He closed his eyes, fully prepared for her
to hit him in the face. When nothing happened, he let
his eyelids part. Then he had the sickening thought of
that's what she was waiting for and quickly shut his
eyes again.

"Stop wincing!" She demanded. He did as was asked


and opened his eyes, trying to regain composure.
"The only way this is going to work is if you stop
talking, got it?" He nodded. "Good." She went to pick
up the papers again. "I think you'll find this as
enjoyable as I do."

"What is it?" He asked; she glared; he apologized.

"It's many things." She paused. "And like I said, it's


entertaining. So much so in fact that I think people
would be willing to pay for it given the right
advertising."

He raised his hand and she gave a nod, allowing him


to speak. "Why come to me with it? Whatever it is."

"Because you have a knack for putting glee stuff on


your blog, and people actually read it. And I want
everyone to read this."

"And you want me to put this on my blog?" She


nodded and refrained from throwing an insult at his
dumb question. "So it's about the glee club?"

"Sort of." She grinned cunningly. "It's more just a story


based off true events of a very secret romance. One
that involves your precious Berry." His eyes lit up, and
he held out his hands for the papers. "Not so fast."
She shot him down. "First, I need to ensure that this
entire plan stays between us and only us."

"Of course."

"I mean no one. Not even if Sylvester threatens you."

"I said okay." He held out his hands again, she just
yanked the papers out of reach.

"Second, I need to know if your blog is at all affiliated


with McKinley." There was no way she was going to
get in trouble over this thing.

"No." He shook his head. "I mean, I generally divulge


things that happen with people in the school, but it's
not the school's blog. It's my blog."

"Great." She let out another smirk. "Then let's get


started." She finally passed him the book.

November 30, 2010

Rachel's morning had been quite the puzzle so far.


Normally her peers found it fit to insult her directly to
her face. Today, however, was much different. For the
first time, people seemed to be making fun of her by
whispering behind her back. All morning she'd heard
squashed giggling or slight gasps only to look at the
culprit and have them turn away. There was also
plenty of pointing. She had begun to wonder if
someone had chosen to stick one of those childish
"Kick Me!" signs on her back. (She had already
checked if something was on her face.) What else
could it be?

She approached Mercedes and Tina by the Asian


girl's locker to find out. "Good morning. I was
wondering if you both could assist me in something."
They nodded slowly which was to be expected since
no one was ever eager when it came to helping her. "I
was wondering if you perhaps noticed something
written on my back or if there was something else
wrong with me that I'm not aware of." Rachel became
confused when Tina and Mercedes shared a long
glance. She cleared her throat to regain their
attention.

"Um…well, there's nothing on you." Tina gave a small


shrug.

"Yeah, uh…we probably shouldn't be the ones telling


you this." Mercedes continued.

"Tell me what?" She demanded, and they shared


another glance with each other. Did they not
understand that she did not have the patience for
this?

"Look, just go to Jacob's blog." Mercedes explained.


Of course in Rachel's opinion it wasn't much of an
explanation.

Tina nodded. "Yeah, you won't miss it."

"Miss what?" Rachel and then rolled her eyes when


they simply walked away. Well if it was something on
Jacob's blog then it probably was more entirely false
tales of the two of them. Jacob had a knack for telling
his readers that they were doing disturbingly dirty
things together. Actually, based on the lewd
comments she had received from some of the football
players earlier, it made sense. Perhaps her puzzle
had been solved.

Rachel headed to library. As luck would have it, this


was her only free period aside from lunch. She sat
down at the first open computer she saw in order to
find out just exactly what Jacob decided to say this
time. Afterward, she'd go find him and threaten to
send Noah after him again. It may have been an
empty threat as she's never actually sat Noah down
and talked to him about this, but it was enough to
scare Jacob away for a while. She signed on with her
school username and quickly went online to Jacob's
blog. It wasn't foreign to her. She's been to his blog
several times. He was the only form of press at
McKinley, and she needed all the practice she can get
for her future lifestyle. Reading what he writes about
her or glee seemed like the right thing to do. It didn't
matter that she never liked anything he wrote.
She scrolled down the page until she found
something with her name attached to it. She stopped
only three entries down when she saw a name very
similar to her own. Whatever it is was posted last
night.

The Adventures of Rachel Cherry and Quinn Fabrat:


Chapter One

Go behind glee, and read the brand new story based


entirely off of true events.

Rachel frowned. It wasn't terribly hard to decipher


which New Directions' members this was going to be
about. She had no idea how this was going to be
based off real life experience. She had no recollection
of any adventures she and Quinn had been on. Aside
from their mutual ties to Finn and Noah, they had
nothing in common except for glee club. Any
adventure they shared through glee was generally
shared right along with the other ten members and
Mr. Schue. Rachel clicked on the link at the bottom of
the entry to see just what 'adventures' had been
written about.

The link led her to a new page with the start of the
first chapter. It didn't seem to be anything special.
Rachel Cherry and Quinn Fabrat were in Rachel's
room discussing Mr. Shooter's new glee assignment.
Neither girl seemed to be fond of the assignment, and
Rachel Cherry suggested an alternative. Apparently
Quinn Fabrat didn't like this very much because she
shoved Rachel Cherry against the wall. Before
anything else happened, the website was telling her
to click on the "Buy Now" button if she wanted to read
the rest.

Rachel tapped her fingers on the desk before moving


the mouse over the button. It was the common 'check
out' pages online telling her the rest of the chapter
cost $4.95. She didn't like the idea of paying to read a
story where she was undoubtedly going to be
murdered by the embodiment of Quinn Fabray, but it
was only five dollars. Plus, she did have that
emergency credit card her fathers had given her two
years ago. If new glee costumes constituted as an
emergency then this had to fit the bill as well. She
entered in the numbers she had memorized
(knowledge she may need in an actual emergency
one day) and purchased Chapter One.

She found her spot where the preview had left off and
continued reading. She always imagined if any of the
cheerios were to kill her that it'd be an embarrassing
death. Since Rachel Cherry and Quinn Fabrat were
alone, she didn't really think any of her hypotheses
would be correct. When no death came over the next
few lines, she began to question if that was what
Quinn Fabrat was set to do. The blonde character
wasn't being violent at all. She actually seemed to be
being nice. (Clearly this wasn't art imitating life.)
Strangely, she was "gently" touching Rachel Cherry.
Her hand was softly moving down and– this was most
definitely not safe for work (school).

Rachel gasped and quickly minimized the page


before looking around the mostly empty library. When
it was clear no one was watching her, she restored
the screen but shrunk it to a much smaller size.
Getting comfortable in her chair once more, she
reread what she had just read to make sure she
hadn't misread and Holy Streisand she didn't. This-
this was porn. It wasn't the first time she had been
depicted in this manner. There were Quinn's ever-
clever drawings that still line the walls of the
bathroom, but this was slightly different. For starters,
she wasn't alone this time; she was with one of the
most popular people in school. Granted, Quinn wasn't
as 'pure' as she once was because of her fall last
year, but she was back on top now. This was a prank
far beyond a simple drawing.

She scrolled to the bottom of the page to see if there


was any mention of an author. There wasn't. She
really didn't want to jump to conclusions and think
Jacob himself did this. She read his blog entries, and
she highly doubted he was able to write all of this. Not
to mention throwing Quinn with her instead of himself
made very little sense. She scrolled back through the
page to see if there was anything to indicate who may
have written it. There was nothing. Nothing but a fake
her and a fake Quinn doing very inappropriate things
with each other. Things she was desperately trying
not to read about. It was just so hard not to. How
could one not stare at a car crash or someone
streaking? It was impossible. Plus, and more
importantly, it was a story about herself.

Honors English wasn't easy for Rachel that day. Aside


from glee and lunch, this was the only period
throughout the day that she shared with Quinn.
Considering she had just spent the period before this
not reading about the two of them having imaginary
sex, it was a tad awkward. When she arrived to class,
she hurriedly tried to sit in an open seat furthest away
from the blonde. (Come to think of it, this wasn't
different than any other day in class.) Things went
perfectly fine during their teacher's lesson. It was
halfway through the period when the older women
told the class to get an early start on their reading
assignment. It was when she was trying to read The
Crucible that Rachel's mind began to wander.

She let her eyes gaze around the room, landing on


one of the classroom's solid walls. A wall identical to
the wall from the story she had read last period.
Great. Now she'd never be able to look at a wall the
same way again. She sighed. She really shouldn't
have read it. She knew before she began that she
should have closed out of the page. It was a terribly
dumb decision because now she was looking at a wall
during the middle of her English class and thinking of
what it would be like to be trapped against it. And not
only trapped against it, but trapped against it by Quinn
Fabray who also just happened to be sitting in this
class. This was an entirely messed up situation she
put herself in.

Granted, she would probably never have sex against


a wall in real life, especially not with Quinn, but it was
thrilling to think about. It gave her a pleasant little knot
in the pit of her stomach just imagining it. She
supposed she would be having these same urges
regardless of who the unknown author decided to pair
her with. It didn't so much have to do with Quinn; it
was more just the idea of herself coming undone
against a wall. Actually, Quinn being present in the
story made her question certain things. Not the
expected things like how someone wrote about them
in this manner considering Quinn's hate for Rachel,
but she was questioning things like positioning.

Every time Rachel had thought about what sex was


like, she always imagined herself with a boy. (He
male lead was constantly changing.) Boys were
bigger and much stronger. Quinn was relatively her
size; she was just slightly taller. In the story, Quinn
had her pressed against the wall so that they were
eyelevel. She couldn't see how having one leg
wrapped around Quinn could give her enough
leverage to stand a couple of inches taller. The only
way any of it seemed possible was if Quinn had a
vast amount of force behind her every move. She
glanced over at the blonde a few rows ahead. She
didn't doubt that Quinn could be quite forceful if she
desired to be. Rachel squirmed in her seat. She really
had to stop thinking about this. Witch hunts. She
should be focusing on witch hunts.

Quinn stood at her locker and desperately tried to


remember why she stopped at it. There had to be a
reason otherwise she wouldn't have stopped. Let's
see. She had History next, but she already had her
textbook and notebook…so why did she stop at her
locker? Uggh. She slammed her locker and forgot
about whatever it was she forgot. She wanted this day
to end. It had been weird and long. She really just
wanted to get through her last two classes and glee
so it could all end.

Quinn rounded a corner to be met with a surprised


and then smiling Rachel Berry. Correction. She
wanted this day to end now. Like, right now. Before-

"Hello Quinn. I thought we should perhaps talk."

-that.

Quinn sighed. "Talk about what?"

"I thought that would've been obvious." She answered


lightly with that Rachel-Berry's-better-than-you pride
playing in the background.

Sometimes Quinn truly hated this girl.


"I thought we should come up with some sort of
solution." Rachel continued on all while giving Quinn
what seemed to be an impression of a once-over;
because there was no way she was actually giving
her a once-over. "I feel if we don't put a stop to this
now then…" She trailed off with the oddest, confused
expression on her face. "Quinn, how much taller than
me would you say you were?"

Quinn blinked at the question. "What?"

Rachel ignored her reply and opted for putting her


man-hands on Quinn's shoulders. She then stood on
her tippy-toes until they were eye level. Quinn quickly
looked around to see if passer-bys were looking at
them, and of course they were. Just as she was going
to push the normally shorter girl away, she spoke.

"This is somewhat uncomfortable." Rachel muttered.

"Somewhat?"

Rachel had the decency to clear her throat bashfully


before stepping down and back. "Sorry. I suppose in
our current circumstances that wasn't the most
appropriate behavior of me."

"What circumstances are you talking about? In fact


what is this conversation even about?"

Rachel observed Quinn for a moment, and it occurred


to her that the other girl didn't know anything about
the story of them. She had just assumed one of
Quinn's friends or many followers would have told her
by now. "Quinn, how involved are you with Jacob Ben
Israel's blog?" She began to break the news slowly.

"I used to leave insults on his blog before I became a


story on his blog. Why?"

"Oh." Rachel took a deep breath before explaining.


"Now before I tell you anything, I'd like you to bear in
mind that you shouldn't blame the messenger.
Especially when the messenger also happens to be a
victim of the crime." She took another breath before
leaning in to whisper the message. "Jacob's blog is
currently presenting a novel of pornography about the
two of us." Rachel stood back and waited for Quinn's
response.

"No." The blonde answered simply.

Rachel frowned. "No?"

"Yes, there is no way you just said that. It just didn't


happen. This entire day hasn't happened."

"Okay." Rachel responded slowly. "Except that it has.


And there really is a story about us having sex
online."

"Yeah, I already heard that part." Quinn pinched the


bridge of her nose. Her morning's headache just
doubled in size. First her mother thought four am was
an appropriate time to try and learn how to make eggs
benedict. Then Sam had been nauseatingly sweet
today rather than his normal, cute sweetness; almost
as if he had been compensating for something. The
rest of the school had clearly been whispering about
her all day which now of course made sense because
Rachel –of all people– was standing in front of her
saying that there was a pornographic novel floating
around about the two of them. Just…Hasn't karma
caught up with her life yet? She's not that bad of a
person.

"It's actually quite thorough." Rachel continued.


"Whoever wrote it seems to have extensive
knowledge on the female anatomy. Though, I can't
judge how accurate the sex is considering I myself
have no experience."

Quinn's eyes snapped open, and she lowered her


hand. "You've read it?"

"Uhhh…only partially. And to be fair, I didn't know it


was going to be NC-17 when I purchased it. The
sneak preview was terribly misleading."

"What do you mean purchased? Does he have a


newsstand now or something?"

"No, at least I hope not." Rachel shook her head. "It


costs $4.95 online to read the entire chapter. Based
solely on how many people have given me weird
looks today, I'd say he's making a nice profit."

"Then can't we sue him?" Quinn tried to find some


humor. Rachel didn't understand this concept.

"Ah, I've already thought about that. Legally I don't


think we could actually do anything considering
they're not really us; they're just characters. The
author doesn't use our real names and the description
is general enough to fit anyone who remotely looks
like us." She paused. "I do however think we can
scare Jacob from publishing anything further by using
my fathers' connections to the ACLU."

Quinn leaned her back against the wall for a moment,


letting the situation sink in. How does something like
this even happen? It felt more like a dream. A very
odd dream. Rachel, Quinn, and pornographic were
three things that really didn't belong together. She
turned back to her counterpart. "Okay. Let me just get
this straight. Jacob Ben Israel is writing a
pornographic story about characters based on you
and me, and then he's posting it to his blog for five
dollars a hit where people are actually buying it?"

"Well, I'd say that's stripping away a lot of the detail,


but yes. And also, as of now, there is no author."

"I see. Excuse me."


Rachel frowned as she watched the other girl walk
past her. She briefly wondered if she should follow
before realizing that would be best. After all, the
whole point to finding Quinn was to come up with a
way to end the story. Rachel followed the cheerio all
the way to what she recognized as the computer lab
Jacob usually used. She arrived just in time to see
Quinn all but throwing him from his chair.

Jacob stumbled before turning to face the both of


them. "Ohhhh, I've been expecting this." He said
nervously and took a few step backward. "Just so you
both know, harming me in any way can lead to
expulsion a-and people who don't graduate high
school-"

"You're going to take the story off right now, and


you're not going to write another word of it." Quinn
ordered before he could get out another word.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Sounds more like you won't." Quinn advanced on


him.

"I'm sorry Quinn Fabray, but the person who told me


to post the book scares me much more than you do."

"So you're not the author?" Rachel interrupted.


"No of course not." He answered. "If it were my story,
I would be the one to ravish you against a wall." He
turned to Quinn. "And I'd actually have the equipment
for the job."

She frowned at his intended insult. "You do know


none of it's true, right?"

"Deny it all you like, but the cat's out of the bag. Your
affair is out for everyone to know about."

"It's not true!" Quinn snapped.

"That's not what my blog says." He grinned and


turned back to his fellow Jew. "I always knew you had
a dirty side."

Rachel refrained from slapping him and calmly


continued her questioning. "If you didn't write it who
did?"

"I don't know." He confessed. "It was just given to me.


They didn't say who wrote it."

Quinn took another step forward. "Given to you by


who?"

"I won't tell." He walked around the perimeter of the


room until he got to the door. "The truth shall only
come out once I've died."
Quinn glared at him. "That can easily be arranged."
He darted out of the room. She took a few deep
breaths to rid herself of her anger.

"Quinn." Rachel broke the silence. "We need to find a


way to stop all of this."

"Yes we do, but today I really just need to go home."


Quinn headed to her history class before stopping in
the hall. The New Deal Packet. That's what she had
needed from her locker. With a sigh, she headed back
in the opposite direction to retrieve it. Well at least
now she had an excuse why she was late.

Glee was weird. No one could look at Rachel or


Quinn without wearing a blush. Well, except for
Brittany who seemed to be clueless, and Santana
who clearly had a smirk on. Quinn watched Rachel
look around and fidget in her seat before she stood up
and walked to the center of the floor.

"My fellow glee teammates, as I'm sure you're all


aware, there is a story about Quinn and myself
floating around on the internet. I would just like to
make assurances that it is entirely not true."

Rachel's 'assurances' continued on for a few


moments in which they mysteriously presented
themselves as a rant. Everyone tried not to look her in
the eye while Santana snickered, and Quinn seriously
contemplated how much trouble she would get in if
she happened to accidentally punch Rachel right now.
Seriously. Did the girl actually have a brain
malfunction that kept her from knowing when to shut
up? Everyone in this room –no– in the world should
know she would never touch Rachel Berry in that
way. There was no reason for Rachel to be standing
up there, defending the situation. In fact, her standing
up there made it seem like there was a reason.

Luckily Mr. Schuester walked in right around the time


Quinn remembered that it was only a three day
suspension for a punch being thrown. "Okay guys-
er…Rachel please take a seat." She huffed but did as
was asked and reclaimed her seat next to Finn.
"Okay, so Sectionals are on Friday and we need to
start preparing."

"But we're still short one member." Mercedes


interrupted.

"Yeah with Kurt gone, we can't even compete." Artie


continued.

"I agree." Rachel nodded. "We cannot properly


prepare our choreography in any group numbers if
we're short one member."

The rest of the group chimed in with their worries and


ideas until there was nothing but a bunch of side
arguments going on. Will sighed. They really did need
to find another member. He just had no idea about
how to go about it. If worse came to worse, they'd just
have to use Jacob Ben Israel again. Yeah, no. He
definitely needed another option.

PART TWO

December 01, 2010

It made no sense how an inanimate object could


mock her, but it was. Rachel awoke at her scheduled
time and already went through her morning routine.
Now her laptop was sitting on her desk and mocking
her.

She had done everything in her power not to look for


a new chapter last night. It hadn't been too hard
considering she had to read twice as many pages of
The Crucible than anyone else probably had. It wasn't
hard not to read anything on Jacob's blog last night
because she had plenty of distractions. However, now
she had a half an hour to kill before she had to leave
for school. Her fathers had already left for work, and
she was alone in her house for the next thirty minutes
with nothing to do but be stared at by a computer.

She walked over to her desk and turned it on. It was


simple. She'd just go to Jacob's blog and see if
another chapter was posted; she wouldn't actually
read it. No, she couldn't read pornography in the
morning (or any time for that matter). Yesterday at
school had been a fluke and an accident. She
wouldn't do it again today. Besides, this book had
already distracted her far too much. She should be
putting her energy into Sectionals. As it was, this book
was already holding back her performance.

Since Mr. Schuester once again saw it fit to ruin her


life and not give her a solo of any kind, she was
reduced to being a background performer. A walking
stick could do what she had to do on Friday.
Absolutely no thought was required. This meant her
brain was free to think about other things which had
not been working out too well for her. She could
accidentally look at a wall or something while on
stage and lose all control of what her body was
feeling. She could mess up. On stage! She was
Rachel Berry, and Rachel Berry did not mess up on
stage. Except that she already has once –okay fine,
twice– in rehearsal.

No one else noticed of course, but she did. Stupid


walls. Not to mention there was Quinn who was also a
constant reminder of the dirty things forever stored in
her mind. Her fathers never should have taught her
association skills. Uggh. She thought only boys had
this problem. Girls were supposed to have control
over their hormonal urges. It was genetic law. Girls
went to college to get more knowledge. Boys went to
Jupiter to get more stupider. Not the other way
around.

Streisand, she needed this book to disappear. One


chapter, now two as her computer was showing her,
was more than enough. The only thing she could think
of to get Jacob to stop posting would be to give him
another pair of her underwear, but she promised
herself she'd never do that again. The only other
option would be to find the author and try and get
them to stop writing it, but she had no way of finding
out who that was. The only link to the author was the
story, and she just agreed not to read any more of it.

Rachel allowed herself to read the harmless preview


before placing the curser over the "Buy Now" button.
The only way to end the story was to find the author,
and the only way to find the author was to read the
story. Rachel clicked the mouse. She was willing to
make the sacrifice because she really needed this
story to end because she really needed to stop
thinking about walls and sex and Quinn Fabray.

Quinn shut her locker door and was met with the sight
of Rachel Berry standing in its wake. Lovely. It was
becoming habitual. "What do you want?" She asked
the shorter girl.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you a question." She


explained. "As I was reading the newest chapter it
became clear that-"

"Why were you reading more of this?"

Rachel looked as if she just faltered. If only Quinn


was so lucky. "As I was going to eventually explain
had you not rudely interrupted, I was looking for clues
on who the author might be. Whether you
acknowledge it or not, the story itself is the only thing
we have going for this investigation."

"Actually, that's not true."

"You have other options?"

"Yes. I figure we can threaten Jewfro until he tells us


who gave him the book. Then we can threaten that
person until they tell us who's writing it. And then we
can threaten them until they stop writing it."

"I guess that could work, but can I ask you my


question first?"

"If you must." Quinn sighed.

"Okay." Rachel smiled, trying to ignore the other girl's


attitude. She always had to have an attitude. "Do you
by any chance have a couch lined with stuffed
animals in your room?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes. She had no idea where


Rachel was going with this. "Maybe. Why?"

"Because in chapter two, Rachel Cherry and Quinn


Fabrat-"
"Those are the original names they gave us?"

"Yes, and we attend McKinky High." Rachel rolled her


eyes. "Anyway, they were having sex in your room,
and there were quite a few descriptions of the room.
This leads me to believe that the person writing the
book has been in your room."

Quinn bit her lip to keep from doing something. She


didn't know what. Now she was just angrier and
uncomfortable with the fact that she personally knew
who was writing this filth. Her body was just itching to
give off a reaction. There were only a handful of
people she allowed into her room. Plenty of people
had been in her house, but only a few made it to her
room.

As she began to go through the names, she spotted


her original target walking through the halls. Plan A
would have to do. "Come on." She gave Rachel a tug
and continued down the hall. Quinn increased her
pace until she was close enough to grab Jacob Ben
Israel by the back of his collar. She dragged him as
best she could against his incessant fighting. She was
able to pull him into the bathroom just as he was
trying to take off his shirt to get away.

Rachel entered the bathroom just in time to see Quinn


address the room's occupants.

"Out!" She ordered them all and because the name


Quinn Fabray still had merit, each girl left quickly.
Only Lauren Zizes took her time.

"Be gentle bringing him into your sexual adventures.


He's always been over-eager." The heavy set girl
warned the two glee members before exiting.

Quinn ignored her and turned to feast on Jacob. "You


are going to tell us everything you know right now.
Otherwise I'm going straight to Miss Sylvester so she
can get you expelled for making her head cheerio's
life a living hell."

"Miss Sylvester isn't principal anymore. She no longer


has that type of power." He backed away as Quinn
began to step forward. He seriously needed stop
getting himself in these situations. "Besides, if she did
anything to hurt my stay at McKinley because of this
book, she'd also be hurting her cheerios."

Quinn frowned at the statement. "What does that


mean?"

"It means if I go down, I'm taking the cheerios with


me."

"Look, maybe we all just need to calm down." Two


sets of eyes snapped to Rachel. The tiny diva focused
on Jacob's. "We don't need to go to Coach Sylvester
or even Principal Figgins. I can call my daddy's
contact at The ACLU and go straight to a Lima Police
Department. Technically because Quinn and I are
both minors, who's ever writing this is writing child
pornography. Since that you are affiliated, we can get
you labeled and arrested as a sex offender."

Quinn smirked at Rachel's threat until Jacob's voice


was once more being heard. "Think again. My partner
and I went over every angle before publishing it.
Since both of us are also minors, you can't do
anything about it."

Rachel let her own quasi-smirk adorn her features.


"Actually because people who are not minors have
access to it, we can still get you arrested. You may
not be labeled, but I'm sure there's some law against
this." She turned to Quinn. "Wouldn't you say?"

The blonde nodded. "Definitely."

Rachel lost the smile and turned back to the blogger.


"I however don't exactly want to go through all that, so
perhaps you can just tell us who your partner is. We
already know the person who wrote it is probably
close to Quinn. Just tell us what we want to know."

He stood up straight and leered at Rachel. "I will for a


kiss."

"No." Quinn answered sternly, crossing her arms.

He turned back to the cheerleader. "Then I have no


reason to tell you. I don't care if you have me
arrested. I too have connections to certain groups,
and there is no chance that I'd go to prison for this."
Rachel sighed that was probably true. "Face it." He
continued. "You're both powerless. There's nothing
you can do to make me tell you."

Said cheerleader arched an eyebrow. "I've got four


toilets that say otherwise."

"Quinn, isn't that taking it a little far?" Rachel stepped


forward.

"Nope."

Jacob once again ghosted a room's perimeter intent


on escaping. "I recognize this routine. It's good
cop/bad cop. Well I'm not going to fall for it. I know
you have no intention of actually harming me."

Quinn humored him and allowed him to skirt past


them before once again grabbing onto his collar. She
violently threw him through one of the opened stall
doors, and shoved him to his knees in front of the
toilet.

"Last chance." She enforced her warning by grabbing


the back of his neck. "Do you want to keep the
glasses on or off?" When there was no response, she
began to move his head towards the bowl.
"Alright! Alright! I'll tell you!" She pulled him back and
he fell to his behind. "It was Santana. Santana gave
me the book." He moved so he was sitting against the
stall's wall. Rachel shared a glance with Quinn
through the doorway upon this new information. Glee
was going to be interesting today.

Quinn looked back down at Jacob. "I want to know


everything."

He nodded. "Santana came to me on Monday and


showed me the book. She told me about your hidden
relationship with Rachel and then told me how she
wanted to publish the book that was based on it. She
never said who wrote it, but I can tell you whoever did
wrote a stack of chapters."

"Keep going."

"There's not much else to say. We had one of the tech


guys set up the website for us that morning, and then
Santana made me sign some sort of a contract. I get
10% of all profits for publishing it. Whoever the author
is gets 30%, and Santana gets the rest." He sighed.
"That's it. That's all I know."

Quinn walked out of the stall, allowing its door to fall


into Jacob's limp form. "What period is it?" Quinn
asked Rachel.

Rachel frowned at her calm demeanor given what


they were just told, but answered anyway. "Third."

Quinn grinned for a moment. Perfect. This had


worked out perfectly. She knew that Santana had
Spanish 2 with Mr. Schuester right now. During the
first week of school Brittany had forgotten her
schedule and got lost. Like any good friends, Quinn
and Santana escorted her through the school until
she recognized her classroom. On the way back to
their own classes, Santana had bragged that she had
Spanish with Mr. Schue and it was a complete joke
since she was already fluent. Mr. Schue had proven
several times last year that her had a soft spot for
Quinn. She could take care of this whole situation
right now.

Leaving Jacob in the wrong gender's bathroom, Quinn


headed out with Rachel right behind her.

"Quinn, you weren't really going to push his head into


a toilet were you?" Rachel doubled her steps in order
to catch up.

"Sure."

"Quinn." Rachel scolded. "That is completely


unacceptable. Jacob may not be my favorite person,
but I would never attempt to drown him."

She rolled her eyes. "Calm down, I was just trying to


scare him. Think about it. If it was you what would you
prefer: Being arrested or getting a swirlie?"

Rachel weighed both options. "I may see your point."


They walked a few more steps. "Where are we
going?"

"To end this."

Rachel silently followed Quinn the rest of the way until


they reached what she recognized as Mr. Schuester's
room. He looked up from his desk as they came to his
door; a surprised smiled graced his face. "Rachel,
Quinn. What can I do for you?"

As Rachel was about to greet her trusted her teacher,


Quinn ignored him and chose to walk straight back to
Santana's desk.

"I know it was you." She looked down at the other girl.

Santana didn't look impressed. "Wow it took Jewfro a


whole two days to squeal like the pig he is. I thought
you would've gotten it out of him sooner."

Quinn ignored her air of indifference. "You're going to


stop posting them today."

"Or you'll what? Give me another throwdown in the


hall." She rolled her eyes. "Please."

Quinn grinned. "No, I'm not that stupid. And I'm not
treating this like it's a little prank." She leaned over
Santana's desk. "I'll come after Brittany." She
whispered before pulling away and heading back to
the front of the room. She smiled sweetly at her
clearly confused teacher. "Sorry Mr. Schue. I just had
to tell Santana something."

With that she left the room, pulling a frowning Rachel


with her.

Quinn was losing her touch. This much was clear to


Santana after last period. She knew the blonde
cheerleader would never actually do something to
Brittany. She was one of the few people in the world
Quinn didn't have a problem with. Of course, Brittany
was also one of the few things Santana cared about
which meant she was one of the few targets that
could hurt Santana. But no one ever aimed for
Brittany unless they were suicidal or out of other
options. This meant Quinn was done. All Santana had
to do was drive in the final dagger, and they'd be
square again. Either that or Santana would be back
on top.

She let out a pleasant sigh before putting on her bitch


face and approaching the current head cheerio. She
quickly spun Quinn from her locker and pushed the
girl into the rows of metal. Quinn, unsurprisingly, put
on her own bitch face before shoving Santana right
back.
"You don't fool me Tubbers. You're nowhere near a
big enough bitch to do anything to Brittany."

Quinn cocked her head. "Takes one to know one."

Santana let out a hollow laugh that was more just an


aggravated exhale. "You know, I was going to go
easy on you; just do the expected thing and tell you to
leave B alone. But you're just always making
comments."

"I'm always the one making comments?" Quinn shook


her head with a smile. "Wow."

Santana smirked. "Well then listen to this one. Your


boyfriend and two bumbling ex-boyfriends are the
ones responsible for your favorite book." Santana's
smile grew as Quinn's fell. "That's right. Puck, Finn,
and Finn 2.0 sat down for weeks writing stories where
you just fuck the hell out of Rachel Berry. That's my
favorite part by the way; that it's Treasure-Trail."

"Well it's not like they could've used you. You're like
Puck, you'll sleep with anyone. That takes away the
perverted fantasy."

"Keep talking, Q. Just keep talking." Santana warned


before leaving the blonde with her thoughts. She'd get
Quinn to shut up. She'll make sure of it.

As Quinn closed her locker after the final class of the


day, a strip of gold caught her eye. This had been
about the tenth time it's happened since Santana told
her who wrote the book this morning. She was once
again thinking about Sam. As of yesterday's glee
practice, she was singing their opening number at
Sectionals with him. This idea wasn't sitting too well
with her anymore. Actually, the idea of Sam in general
wasn't sitting too well with her anymore.

When she had first met him, he quoted Dr. Seuss,


spoke in Na'vi, and did poor impressions of Matthew
McConaughey. He was absolutely harmless and
completely sweet. He truly was the cutest boy in
school, and he was doing wonders for curing her
reputation. They had finally got to the point where he
had earned her as his girlfriend and now this. Now he
wrote a book (incidentally with the only other two boys
she's ever dated) about her and Rachel having sex.
Whereas that was Santana's favorite part, it was what
was worst for Quinn.

She could handle porn being written about her…


maybe, but not porn being written about her and
Rachel Berry. Together. There was always something
about the other girl that infuriated Quinn; some
underlying tension between the two of them that just
made Quinn want to snap. The tiny songstress could
cause her to do the most irrational of things like
producing her own Rachel pornography for instance.
Even if Rachel ignored her insults or teasing she still
somehow managed to drive Quinn crazy. In fact,
Rachel ignoring her actually spurred her on more.
Uggh. Why did they have to write it about her and
Rachel? They could've made it about her and one of
them. She still would've been mad, but at least it
wouldn't have involved Rachel.

Quinn was stopped from walking any further to glee


by Becky Jackson. Well this could only mean one
thing.

"Coach wants to see you in her office." Becky told her


before quickly walking away.

Of course she did. Because that was the one thing


missing from Quinn's day: A conference call with Sue
Sylvester. Quinn shook her head and walked past the
choir room. Less than two minutes later, she was
entering Sue's office. "You wanted to see me?"

"Q, sit down." Sue ordered, and Quinn did as she was
told because, well, it was Sue Sylvester. "Someone
had the pleasure of showing me Jacob Ben Israel's
blog last period. I must say, I was quite disturbed by
some of the things I read you doing with that glee
reprobate. So much so that I'm having trouble looking
at you right now and forgetting what I read. It's like the
words have been scorched into my retinas."

"Coach, I can explain."

"No need. I'm demoting you to the bottom of the


pyramid effective immediately. That way you can
learn to have a little self-respect when on your knees."

Quinn shuddered and tried to ignore the implications


of just what Quinn Fabrat was doing on her knees.
"Miss Sylvester that's not fair."

"No, what's not fair is me taking the risk of making an


underclassman my head cheerio only to watch her get
knocked up in the back of a Winnebago. Now after
I've given you a second chance, you choose to waste
it by incorporating yourself into deviant plotlines that
can only be blamed on Will Schuester's be-yourself
campaign."

"But the story's not even true."

"It's written down on the internet; therefore everyone


will believe it." Sue comfortably leaned back in her
chair. "Santana will take your spot. Now take your
overused hands and get out of my office."

Quinn auto-piloted out of the room. At this rate, she


should've just stayed home and watched General
Hospital with her mother.

Rachel bounced her leg up and down as she told


herself for the fiftieth time since she had seen Quinn
that morning to stop thinking about the book and the
blonde. Based on the random thoughts that had had
entered her mind today and the uncontrollable surges
coasting through her body, if she didn't know any
better she'd say she was developing a little obsessive,
emotionless crush on the cheerio. And that was just
absolutely ridiculous. For one, a person cannot
develop physical feelings for someone else because
of an amateur's book. For two, it was Quinn Fabray.
What was so great about Quinn Fabray? Unless you
were into that pretty blonde who has beautiful eyes
and a nice smile look, Quinn didn't really have
anything going for her. Sure, she was intelligent, had
musical talents, and proved to be able to preserver
through troubling times, but other than that: Nothing.
For example, glee had started five minutes ago and
Quinn had yet to show up. Tardiness was a terribly
unattractive quality to possess.

Somewhere around the time Noah was speaking


about his closeted tryst with their newest member,
Lauren Zizes, Quinn finally decided to attend practice.
Subtle would not be a word chosen to describe her
entrance. Storming straight past her teacher and the
odd couple on the floor, Quinn addressed Santana.

"You went to Miss Sylvester and got me demoted."


She accused sharply. "I know it was you who told her
about the book."

Santana played it nonchalant. "I may have mentioned


it."

Mr. Schue grabbed Quinn around the waist as she


began to charge, probably to do something violent.
Rachel tried to remind herself that this also was
unattractive.

"That's it!" Will shouted gaining everyone's attention,


including Lauren who seemed to be enjoying this side
of the glee club. "You two have been at this all day,
and it's going to stop. Sectionals are in two days, and
we need to be a team." Their instructor actually
instructed before sitting Quinn in an empty chair
across the room from Santana. "If we don't perform
together we minds well just stay home. This means
there will be no more fights." He looked to Quinn who
was focusing intently on a distant spot on the floor.
"There will be no more arguments for solos." This time
he looked to Finn and Rachel who were both ready to
defend themselves. "And we will all give Lauren a
New Directions welcome and help her with the
choreography."

"And Cadburry Eggs." Lauren reminded as she and


Puck took their seats.

"Right." Mr. Schue supplied and focused on the


blonde who caused all this commotion. "Quinn, I need
to talk to you and Sam about your number. I was
thinking you two could-"

"I'm not singing with him." Quinn interrupted, eyes still


trained on the floor.
Mr. Schue, caught off guard, frowned. "What?"

"I said I'm not singing with him."

Now it was Sam's turn to frown as he leaned on the


edge of his chair to talk to his girlfriend. "Did I do
something?" Quinn simply ignored him.

Will sighed. With everything that was going on with


Emma, he was simply too tired to deal with their
childlike antics. "Quinn, yours and Sam's voices work
together. You're singing and that's final."

"No." She responded, finally shifting her eyes to him.

"Quinn, don't you think that's a little selfish? You'd be


letting your entire team down." He challenged with the
guilt trip.

It missed its mark. "I'm still not singing with him."

"I'll take her place." Rachel loudly volunteered from


her seat, gaining their attention. "I'm sure I can get my
voice to meld beautifully with Sam's. I've achieved in
doing so with Finn."

Her boyfriend frowned. "Is that an insult?"

She smiled and patted his knee. "Don't be silly."

Quinn put on a faux smile and turned back to her


teacher. "See, everything worked out. Rachel takes
my spot, and I'll take hers."

Will surrendered and held up his hands. "If that's what


you really want to do then it's fine by me. Sam, you'll
have to get Rachel caught up."

"I can assure you Mr. Schuester that I'm already


prepared." Rachel informed. "I treat everyone's
performances as if I was an understudy should the
opportunity present itself as it has today."

"That's great, Rachel." Mr. Schue smiled and planned


to go talk to Lauren before Mercedes had to have her
say. He couldn't win.

"Why is it that Rachel automatically gets the solo? I


could blend with white boy just as easily."

Mr. Schue was about to respond, but Quinn beat him


to it.

"Because it's my number, and I'm giving it to Rachel."


She snapped at her friend and turned to look at the
floor once more before shame could creep up on her.

"Careful Q. Saying things like that might get you


kicked off the squad completely."

Quinn took a deep breath and gripped the sides of her


chair, willing herself not to turn around and look at her
fellow cheerio.

"Coolest club ever." Lauren Zizes spoke from her


seat.

Rehearsals did not go smoothly. Sam was too


depressed and confused to actually get into his
performance with Rachel. Finn was too distracted by
them to do what he was supposed to be doing.
Lauren clearly didn't care about show choir at all, and
was probably only there for Puck. This resulted in
Puck being torn between either avoiding her or
pleasing her because she "saved his life." Mercedes
was angry for once again being shoved in the back.
Quinn and Santana almost came to blows every five
minutes like clockwork. Tina and Artie were angry
with Brittany and Mike who really seemed to be the
only one's having a good time.

Quinn swears they all gave Mr. Schuester some gray


hairs today. He was probably happier that rehearsal
was finally coming to an end than they were. Quinn
sighed. She felt bad. She knew she was the cause of
a lot of his stress today, but Damn It, Janet! she was
just so pissed off. She honestly thinks she could kill
Santana right now. The ball was back in Quinn's
court, and it was once again her move in their twisted
relationship. The only problem was she was at a
disadvantage. Any checker piece she moved,
Santana was primed to jump. She really didn't see
how she could come back in this game. If she was
willing to face reality she'd realize that Santana had
already won. This did nothing but piss her off further.
She couldn't do anything!

"Quinn, could we maybe talk?"

She turned from watching her teammates leave the


auditorium to look at Sam. She could do something
about him though.

"Look, I'm really sorry for whatever it is I did." He


continued but received no response. "Okay, attempt
number two. Maybe it's nothing I did. Does this have
anything to do with whatever happened between you
and Santana? Can I do anything to help?"

"You want to help me?" He nodded. "Then leave me


alone." She glared; he sighed.

"Fine. I'm not going to talk to you when you're like


this." He shook his head before heading up the stairs
and to the exit.

"I think you were a little hard on him." A familiar voice


said from behind her on stage.

Quinn turned around to face Rachel. "Why are you


still here?"

"Vocal warm-ups. My neighbors have complained that


I've gotten too loud as of late so I've been staying
after every other day."

"It was rhetorical."

"It was still a question, and all questions can be


answered."

"Yeah, that's not true."

"Just because every answer hasn't been found,


doesn't mean they're not out there."

Quinn clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and


counted to five. Rachel was one of the few people she
wasn't mad at right now. Just because she didn't
particularly like the girl, doesn't mean she was going
to take the day's anger out on her.

"Quinn." Rachel interrupted her peace. "If you want


my advice-"

"I don't."

"-you should forgive Sam for whatever he's done to


make you angry."

"No I shouldn't."

"Granted, I don't know him too well, and for what I do


know, I just find him to be an awfully annoying
person-"
"Pot meet kettle."

"-but from what I've witnessed, he seems to make you


happy. He seems to treat you nicely, and based on
his lack of performance today, he must really care
about you. Stop being so stubborn and cold and just
forgive him. You'll feel refreshed."

Quinn's eyes snapped open. "Are you done?"

"Yes, I believe I've said everything I want to say to


you at this time."

"Good. Because Sam wrote the book." Quinn smirked


as she watched the information soak into Rachel. She
watched as Rachel's previous smile vanished, and for
a second, she thought she rendered her little sponge
speechless. Until Rachel spoke of course.

"Well are you sure? Did he confess to doing so?"

"No, actually. Santana told me."

"Oh, well if Santana told you, then isn't it very possible


that it's not true, and she's only trying to get a rise out
of you?"

"I know her well enough to know she wasn't lying


when she told me. Besides, Santana likes using the
truth as a weapon."
"Well then she must be mistaken." Rachel continued
to argue. "I find it very improbable that someone with
Dyslexia could produce this story. I mean, it's not
exactly what I'd call literature, but it's strong writing. I
don't see how Sam could've achieved this on his
own."

"Oh I never said he wrote it alone." Quinn grinned


evilly, stepping forward. "Brace yourself, Berry
because Sam's ingenious co-authors are Finn and
Puck. And the reason it's not as bad as it should be is
because Santana's there to edit it."

"No. No, Finn wouldn't. Noah maybe, but not Finn."

"Well, he did." Quinn tilted her head before walking off


stage, hell bent on just getting home already.

December 02, 2010

Quinn was lying. Either that or she was wrong. Those


were the two conclusions Rachel had come to last
night and then again this morning. She didn't want to
believe that Finn helped publish this book. Still, Finn
has been known to act somewhat immaturely and
make somewhat dumb decisions at times. Plus,
despite his sweet and earnest nature, he had
manipulated her after finding out Quinn was pregnant.
She couldn't overlook any of this. She wanted to, but
like Finn's large frame, she honestly couldn't even if
she tried.

Besides, at least now she knew who to blame for


distracting her from everything. And yes, she was still
partially responsible considering in some warped
cycle, the more she told herself not the think about
the story then the more she did, but it was their fault.
They were the ones to create something for her not to
think about in the first place. Like right now for
instance. She had been staring at the choir room's
piano for ten minutes when she really should've been
reading over songs. Why? Because last night's
chapter (which she really had no reason for reading
other than to read it) had her doing some ungodly
things to who was meant to be Quinn Fabray on that
piano. Chapter Three was the most troubling one yet
because in a recent study, it was concluded that she
finds Rachel Cherry doing things to a domineering
Quinn Fabrat twice as exhilarating as the reverse
scenario.

"Umph." She whimpered and dropped her head into


her hands.

"We need to talk." A voice interrupted the otherwise


silent and empty choir room. Rachel looked up. If it
was anyone other than Quinn, she would've been
angry for having to move the sheet music she was
thoroughly working on during her free period.

"Okay."
Quinn continued her entrance until she was standing
right in front of Rachel's chair. "You can't tell anyone
what I told you yesterday. You can't tell anyone who
wrote the book. And you definitely can't talk to Finn
about it."

"What I choose to discuss with Finn is none of your


business." Rachel stood up and crossed the room to
put some much needed distance between them. She
made sure to avoid the piano and chose to stand
where the band normally stood.

Quinn turned around and faced her. "It is in this case."

Rachel sighed. "Quinn, I-"

"Just hear me out." Quinn stepped forward until she


was –oh great– standing right in front of Rachel again.
Rachel nodded and Quinn continued her train of
thought, but Rachel found herself having a hard time
listening. Instead she focusing on important matters
like how Quinn gripped her hip at intervals between
sentences. Or how the tip of her nose-

Wait. No. Bad thoughts. Thoughts-that-shouldn't-be-


being-thought thoughts. Conversation. There was a
conversation going on right in front of her.

"-until we destroy Finn and Sam. And maybe Puck


too, but I don't really care about him."
"Right." Rachel smiled until Quinn's last statement
caught up with her. "Wait, what?"

"Okay did you not just hear a word I said?"

"…I heard every word. But just because I heard every


word doesn't mean I agree with every word." Rachel
gave a sharp nod. She figured this was a fair
assessment. She and Quinn rarely agreed on
anything.

Quinn looked at her like she was a simpleton which


for once didn't bother her because she felt like one.
"How can you not agree? We can't let them get away
with writing this book and then giving it to Santana."
She paused. "Rachel, they gave it to Santana."

Rachel pursed her lips and saw Quinn's point. They


gave it to Santana. That was actually worse than
writing the book to begin with.

"I'm asking you not to tell him you know." Quinn


sighed. "I just need some time to come up with how
I'm going to get even with them."

"Okay. Though I do not entirely agree with this and


am never one who seeks revenge, I'll hold off on
talking to Finn until we devise a plan."

"We?"
"Yes, we." Rachel annunciated. "It isn't just your
boyfriend who's responsible here, Quinn. I'd like for
Finn to know what he did was unacceptable."

"Fine. Then we'll come up with a plan. Just no crack


houses, Berry." Quinn smirked before retreating out of
the door.

"It was inactive!" Rachel called out after her. She


crossed the room, returning to her long forgotten
sheet music and grinned. This might all turn out
alright after all. She and Quinn could teach the three
boys never to do something like this again, and they
could each get their diligent boyfriends back. Plus, if
whatever plan they come up with happened to allow
Rachel to notice more of Quinn's quirks, then that'd
be okay too.

Rachel waited by Finn's car after school just like she


did on most days. A few minutes later, Finn greeted
her like he did on most days. He greeted her with his
Finn smile before unlocking his car and throwing his
stuff inside. He greeted her as if he didn't write and
publish a book about her and his ex-girlfriend having
rather graphic sex together. Granted, it was a book
she was somewhat enjoying –erm– for educational
purposes but still. It was offensive. It was offensive to
her and Quinn a-and women in general. She felt like
finding the hardcopy jus to hit him over the head with
it. And then perhaps thank him –erm– for the
educational purposes that expanded her already
increased intellect.

She really did need to think about this though. On the


one hand, every logical instinct was telling her to talk
to Finn about this and work through this new problem
in their relationship. On the other hand, Quinn had
asked her to do something rather than just telling her
to. Besides, she needed to be thinking about
Sectionals here anyway. It was only one day away,
and there was no reason to put a hindrance on their
performance by having a discussion about the book.
There was no reason to stir in anymore drama than
there already was. She could wait.

"Are you okay?" Finn quickly glanced at her before


looking back to the road. "You're being quiet which is
kinda weird."

She chose to give him a nod as an answer. He


seemed to accept this. Was she okay? She couldn't
stop reading a story about her having sex in obscure
ways with someone who hated her. A story that was
written by her boyfriend, ex-'boyfriend', and their
friend. It was published by her stalker, messing with
her stage performance, causing her to lose certain
inhibitions, and if she could be frank, keeping her
turned on all day. Yet, she couldn't stop reading it. So
honestly, no. She probably wasn't okay. Actually, she
was beginning to think she needed help. She was
turned on right now because she was thinking about
being turned on.

She turned to glare at her boyfriend. Thanks to him,


she now fully believed in the ongoing problem in the
world that was teenaged hormones. Just look at him
sitting there driving without a care in the world while
she was sitting here suffering. That didn't seem fair at
all. Of course, then again, maybe she could use him
in this situation. Well, here go some more of her
inhibitions.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come over to your house today?"

Finn gave her another Finn smile. "Sure, Rach."

This was not what he had been expecting when


Rachel asked him if she could come over. Finn
thought they would do what they always did when she
came over. He thought they were just going to talk,
maybe rehearse some songs, and then make-out on
his bed. This is why he was so surprised when the
minute they got in his room Rachel was pulling him
against a wall. Not that he was complaining or
anything.

Likewise, the other player on the field also happened


to be somewhat shocked by her actions. She had
planned on coming over her to take relish in Finn's
kisses as she normally did. But gosh darn it; she had
been wondering what it was like to be trapped against
a wall since Tuesday. So far, it wasn't exactly what
she had been expecting. Because Finn was so much
taller than her, he had to bend to connect their lips.
This meant there was no warm body pressed against
hers. And there was absolutely no friction between an
animal sweater and a cheerio's uniform…um and
Finn's clothes. This wasn't like the story at all. The
only way she could think of to change any this would
be if he picked her up, but she wasn't about to ask
him to do so.

Thankfully after a few more attempts, Finn seemed to


be uncomfortable too. He led them to his bed where
they typically did this sort of a thing. He gently guided
her down to the mattress and placed his form over
hers. He then went into his Finn routine that by now
Rachel was more than familiar with. First he would
kiss her softly on the mouth, then he'd move on to her
neck, and finally he'd grope her in the most
respectable of ways. She generally liked all of this,
but today she was enjoying it far more than she
normally did. For once, she really wished his hand
was under her shirt. Usually when Finn touched her
like this her heart swelled at the loving gestures they
were exchanging. Right now, however, her body was
swelling in other places.

"Finn, touch me."


He pulled back with a frown. "But I am touching you."

Rachel sighed. Sometimes his simplicity really did


stop being endearing. She removed his hand from her
breast and guided it down to where she wanted it. "No
Finn. Touch me."

His eyes widened a fraction. "Oh. Well are-are you


sure?"

"Yes Finn. I'm sure." She sent him a reassuring smile.


He returned it with a loving one of his own before
leaning down to kiss her again. He moved his lips
from hers to her jaw line and back down to her neck.
Rachel tightly shut her eyes and allowed her other
senses to take over. She allowed herself to feel his
fingers slip under the trim of her panties. She gasped
at the feelings being evoked by just him sliding over
her wetness. She was even too taken in the moment
to sit back and recognize that this was her first real
sexual encounter with another person.

Finn ghosted his fingertips over her clit causing her to


jerk into him. And there was that friction she had been
missing earlier. He repeated this action a few more
times before finally slipping a digit inside of her.
Rachel moaned. This felt so good, and it was so
wrong. Here she was practically begging for her
boyfriend's fingers inside of her all because of a book.
A book he co-wrote where his ex-girlfriend did the
same thing to her. She needed therapy, but she'd
worry about that later because right now all she
needed was for Finn to do something. Anything. As it
was, he was doing nothing. His finger resided where it
was and wriggled every so often, but that was it.
Clearly, he didn't pen this part of the book.

Just as she was beginning to question if he had even


read his book, he finally began to move his hand the
way she needed it to move. All was feeling
increasingly good until a voice intruded on them from
downstairs. Apparently Finn's mother needed some
help bringing the groceries in from the car. Never had
Rachel seen either of them move so fast. In a fraction
of a second, Finn was off his bed, wiping his hand on
his pants while she was now sitting straight up against
his headboard desperately trying to smooth down her
clothes. You know, just on the off chance that Carole
learned how to teleport upstairs recently.

Finn poked his head out of his door to yell that he'd be
right down before softly shutting it once again. He
turned to face Rachel. "Can you go downstairs and
tell her I'm in the bathroom? I need to…Well, I just
need a minute."

"Sure." She agreed meekly and quickly left the room


that was suffocating them both with embarrassment.
Brightside, sex was now the furthest thing from her
mind. Mrs. Hummel coming home with groceries was
a guaranteed way to rid her of all thoughts sexual.
December 03, 2010

They had tied. Had it not been with The Warblers, she
probably would be throwing a diva's tantrum right
now. However, since it was with Kurt's new team, she
was quite happy. It seemed wrong if Kurt was not at
Regionals with them. And okay, he'll be the
competition, and she didn't exactly want to tie again
but at least he'd be there. They had come to an
understanding and were friends now. And friends
were happy for friends regardless of the situation.
Plus, it wasn't like she was the only one who felt this
way. All of New Directions was supporting him. Over
all, Sectionals actually went nicely.

She wasn't distracted by any walls or pianos or a


certain blonde, and her performance with Sam went
well. He was a little gloomy for her taste, but Mike and
Brittany were able to hide every few, small mistakes
that were made tonight. The only problem she found
herself having was with Finn. After yesterday, he
became her shadow. It would've been cute if she
didn't feel so shameful. Poor Finn seemed so
enthusiastic about these new developments in their
relationship when in reality, they really had nothing to
do with him. She had no one to blame this on but
herself, and she was going to feel horrible about this
until something occurred to her as she was going to
sleep last night. Neither Finn nor Sam showed any
remorse for writing the book. (She didn't expect any
regret from Noah.)

Both her and Quinn's beaus were acting as if they had


no memory of writing the story. It wasn't like they were
both oblivious to the fact that it was published. The
entire school, including some of the faculty, seemed
to know about The Adventures of Rachel Cherry and
Quinn Fabrat. All day at school she (and Quinn) was
still receiving comments and looks. She was actually
alarmed by how many people appeared to believe the
"based on true events" disclaimer. Finn and Sam
didn't seem to feel bad about any of this. Had she had
the patience or audacity, she would've published her
own X-rated book about them. She could easily just
go to Kurt for 'plot' advice if she got stuck. However,
Rachel was better than that. She wouldn't stoop to
their level. And more importantly, that didn't seem like
enough, and she doubted Quinn would disagree. No,
Rachel had come up with a different plan. She just
didn't think her partner in crime was going to like it.

Quinn tuned Mr. Schuester out as he gave them their


congratulations speech. After the news of Miss
Pillsbury becoming Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell, he didn't
seem to be too into it so why should she? She had
played along. She had stopped thinking and jumped
around on stage during "Dog Days Are Over." She
was thrilled that they earned a ticket to Regionals, but
that doesn't mean she was going to listen to Mr.
Schue give an inspirational speech about how their
own dog days were over. Besides, for four certain
glee clubbers, their dog days were just beginning.
Quinn wasn't sure what she was going to do to them
yet, but she had all weekend to come up with
something. Then she and Rachel (apparently) can get
their well disserved revenge.

Quinn stopped from exiting the auditorium with her


teammates when she felt a soft tug on her elbow. She
looked from the hand up to the owner and found
Rachel.

"I need to talk to you." The brunette said, and Quinn


allowed herself to be pulled into the top row of seats.

"I think I've come up with a plan." Rachel explained.

"Okay."

"We give them what they clearly want."

"You do know the definition of vengeance, right?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's reverse psychology. We


give them what they want and they're happy until they
realize that they don't really want it at all."

"And what exactly do you think they want?"

"You and I together."

Quinn replayed what Rachel just said and the serious


manner in which she said it before laughing the first
time all week. And she laughed hard. "You're nuts.
You want you and me to-" She stopped talking to let
out another laugh.

Rachel crossed her arms not seeing what was so


amusing. "Well do you have a better idea?"

Quinn stopped laughing and caught her breath.


"Thanks for that." Quinn shook her head and stood
up, giggling once more.

Rachel got up right after her. "Quinn, if you would just


listen to my reasoning I think you'll find it to be a
workable idea."

"How?" Quinn challenged. "Rachel, we can barely


stand to be in the same room together as it is, and
you actually want us to pretend to be together in a
room together?"

"Yes. As proven over the last couple of days we can


stand to be in the same room, and in this enemy of
my enemy scenario, we've been working quite well
together."

"Yeah, against the likes of Jewfro." She disputed.

"At least watch the PowerPoint presentation before


giving an informed decision. Besides, I figure it'd only
have to be for about a week. I bet it will only take a
couple of days for Finn and Sam to break." Rachel
continued before Quinn had a chance to decline. "I
won't leave you alone until you do."

"Fine. I'll watch your stupid PowerPoint presentation


so I can give you an informed no." Quinn glared.

Rachel only smiled. "Great."

Quinn shook her head a followed the other girl out of


the auditorium. As pathetic as it was this was the only
good thing that's happened to her all week. So she
was going to watch this presentation, hold in her
laughter, tell Rachel no, and then laugh all the way
home about the idea of ever fake-dating Rachel
Berry.

PART THREE

December 06, 2010

She was fake-dating Rachel Berry. And she wasn't


laughing.

On Friday after glee, Rachel brought her to an empty


classroom in order to present her the PowerPoint.
Quinn was well aware of Rachel's infamous
PowerPoint presentations, having sat through several
over the years. They were always long, wordy, and
boring. This one, predictably, didn't disappoint. Given
the material and detailed explanations on how and
why the plan would work, it was equal parts
awkward/equal parts amusing. She did as she had
prepared and held in her laughter, but after a while
she didn't need to. Quinn had to admit; after being
further informed on Rachel's plan, it actually seemed
quite executable. It was better than anything she had
attempted to think up, and more importantly, it would
burn Finn and Sam. Sure, that still left Puck and
Santana but baby steps. Two at a time was fine as
long as this was all taken care of eventually.

Quinn needed things to go back. She needed to be


back on top. When on top no one cared. No one pitied
her; no one questioned when she was mean; no one
minded if she kept them at a distance. When she was
on top people watched her, but they never paid any
attention to her. They weren't able to look past the
red, glaring uniform. It was nice. It was safe.

"Now remember, Quinn." Rachel interrupted her


thoughts. "We are to behave as if we were in a
committed, romantic relationship."

Of course, there were some downsides to this whole


thing. Like she'd have to be near Rachel, and be near
Rachel.

"I suggest we only do simple, loving gestures like


holding hands. I don't see any reason why we should
take it beyond that." Rachel continued, and Quinn
once again found herself questioning why Rachel
seemed so damn excited about this whole thing.

"Yeah, that's not going to be a problem."

Quinn turned off her ears as Rachel continued to talk.


She already knew everything that was going to be
said. After the PowerPoint, Quinn had agreed to
spend the weekend with Rachel hypothetically
planning everything out. If she liked what they came
up with then she'd go through with this. They had
spent the last two days coming up with a plausible
back-story to their fake relationship and answers to
questions they're bound to be asked. They had
memorized every possible response and decided that
glee's weekly Monday morning practice would be the
ideal time to 'come out.' Although, now that Monday
morning has finally arrived, Quinn didn't understand
why they had decided this. This was a horrible idea.
In about three minutes, she'd be known as Rachel
Berry's girlfriend.

"Quinn, this is the part where you take my hand."

"Huh?"

"Quinn, take my hand." Rachel held out her hand.


Quinn grimaced before reaching out to take the hand,
but then pausing, pulling back, and trying once again.
She then repeated the cycle. Rachel, having enough
of this, just grabbed Quinn's hand herself.
They walked into glee hand-in-hand earning more
than a few looks. They chose not to respond to any of
them and instead just took their seats in the front row.
Quinn held back her laughter at the rest of the club's
faces. Even Mr. Schue was giving them an odd look.
Rachel must have been amused as well.

"Did you plan on actually starting practice Mr.


Schue?" The brunette asked their instructor. "Just
because we've gotten through Sectionals doesn't
mean we can afford to start slacking."

"Right." He nodded and started the morning meeting


with a familiar Schuester pep-talk on unity.

Quinn found herself not listening to the man once


again and instead focused on everyone else. She
guaranteed no one else was listening to Mr. Schue
either. They were too busy observing her and Rachel.
Even Brittany seemed to notice these new
developments. This was fun.

She leaned over and whispered into Rachel's ear.


"When I pull away, giggle."

Rachel grinned before doing what was asked. Mr.


Schue stopped talking to look at them again, and
apparently this was all Finn could take.

"Okay, what's wrong with you two?" The tall boy


addressed them and their weirdness this morning.
"What's wrong with us?" Quinn played dumb. "I don't
think there's anything wrong with us." She turned to
Rachel. "Do you think there's anything wrong with
us?"

"No, I don't think there's anything wrong with us."


Rachel looked to Finn. "There's nothing wrong with
us."

"But-but, then why are you holding hands and stuff?"


He gestured frantically at them.

"Well Finn, Quinn and I are holding hands why most


people in a relationship would be holding hands."

"Relationship?"

"Oh my god." Santana interrupted from her spot. "This


is what-" She laughed. "Jesus Q, this is what you
came up with? You plan on getting back on top by
dating RuPaul?"

"Don't call Rachel that." Quinn snapped.

"You're the one who came up with it." She reminded.


"And now you expect us to believe you're dating
what? Dating her?"

"We are dating, Santana." Rachel told her, and before


Santana could retort, Tina spoke.
"But what about that speech you gave last week
about how we shouldn't believe anything the book
says?" The shy girl questioned her.

"Quinn and I both thought we could remain keeping


everything a secret. But as it appears now, the book
won't be stopping, and there's really nothing we can
do."

"So then that book's true?" Artie asked them.

"Not exactly." Quinn clarified.

"Yes, we can assure everyone here that we have not


had sex in the choir room or on top of the piano."
Rachel assured and saw their piano man remove his
hands from the instrument out of the corner of her
eyes. "No Brad, I said it's not true. We're a little more
civilized than that. We do not have sex on random
surfaces in the middle of a room where anyone could
walk in."

"Okay, can we please stop talking about this?"


Mercedes jumped in. "It's bad enough I still have the
first chapter stored in my mind thanks to Mike."

"What do you mean thanks to Mike?" Quinn


questioned.

"Mike was the one to buy the chapter we all read."


Tina explained for her. "It does really stay with you."

"Hey, I think you can all afford to buy your own


chapters." Everyone frowned at Puck. "I'm just
saying." He shrugged.

Mike turned back to Rachel and Quinn. "I swear I


didn't know what it was going to be."

"I don't think anyone knew what it was going to be."


Lauren spoke.

"What is this book you guys are talking about


anyway?" Will chuckled at his students. Whatever it
was had them pretty worked up.

"Nothing." They all quickly answered him. He held up


his hands and decided to stay out of this one.

"Look, this is really…" Mercedes trailed off, continuing


the conversation amongst the teens. "As much as I
hate to agree with Satan, you two in a relationship is
completely out of nowhere. It's pretty hard to believe. I
mean how long have you been together anyway?"

"Since Independence Day." Rachel grinned out the


practiced reply.

"Yeah but I discovered I had feelings for her after


Jesse egged her." Quinn told her friend. "If you
remember correctly, I was really upset that whole
week."

Mercedes frowned. "I just thought it was because of


Puck and the baby."

"That was a part of it."

"Wait, wait." Finn interrupted, perplexed. "I don't- How


have you been dating Quinn since July-"

"They're not dating." Santana sighed, exasperated.

"-when we've been dating all summer?" Finn finished.

"Yeah, and we're kinda dating now too." Sam


reminded Quinn.

She just glared at both of them. "Does the term gay


beard mean anything to either of you?" They sat back
a little in their chairs. "I mean think, Sam. I thought
you were gay on our first date. I wanted us to help
each other out. I thought we could've mutually
benefited from a non-relationship."

"You thought he was gay too?" Mercedes laughed a


little laugh. "So did Kurt."

Sam ignored this and just kept talking to Quinn. "But


even after I told you I wasn't, you still went out with
me again."
"Yes, because you made it clear that you wouldn't
judge me or pressure me. I figured it'd be easier to be
with you than say Puck for instance." She
enlightened.

"That's probably true." Puck nodded in agreement.

"This is ridiculous!" Santana snapped at the group. "I


can't believe you're all entertaining this idea." She
looked down at Rachel and Quinn. "You two are
ridiculous."

"I think they're cute." Brittany disagreed with a smile


and then looked up at Santana. "See San, and you
said two girls couldn't be cute together." Santana, if
possible, seemed to blush.

"Cute?" Puck interjected. "Look, I don't care if it's true


or not. This is super hot. Seriously, if two ever wanted
to have a threesome." He leered at the newest
'couple.'

"Oh please." Santana rolled her eyes; previous


embarrassment gone. "They don't even have sex."

"We do with each other." Quinn grinned; Santana


scoffed.

"But none of this makes any sense." Finn spoke


again. "You guys aren't gay. I mean Quinn, we dated.
You were pregnant. You slept with Puck."
"Yes, and that was lapse in judgment that led to a
beautiful, little life." Rachel smiled.

"Besides, that was way before I figured out how I felt


about her." Quinn added.

Finn looked back at Rachel. "But then how do you


explain last week when we, you know?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to spend time


with your boyfriend while being consumed by
thoughts about your secret girlfriend?"

"Yes." Everyone snapped their attention to Brittany.

Rachel was the first one to get back on track. "I'm


sorry, Finn."

He stood from his chair and irately looked at Quinn.


"Fine. Then I think you should know Rachel's basically
been cheating on you with me."

"Actually, it's more the other way around considering I


know I've gotten further with her than you have."
Quinn smirked. "Isn't that how cheating is
determined?"

"Usually." Puck and Santana both answered and then


looked at each other.
Finn just wiped his hands on the entire situation and
headed for the nearest exit. This was like a
nightmare.

Will sighed. Why were his kids always storming out? It


made no sense. Where did they even go?

"See guys, this is just what I was talking about." He


regained control over the practice. "We need to be
more unified."

There was a reason why Rachel wasn't someone to


usually seek revenge. Attacking someone when her
spotlight wasn't in jeopardy made her feel reasonably
guilty. Even in this case when Finn was clearly in the
wrong she felt bad watching him storm out. She had
hurt him, and more so, she had used him. Had he
have done the same to her she would lock herself in
her room to give devastating performances of some
Celine Dion or Phil Collins.

"That was a lot more fun than I expected it to be."


Quinn smiled as she leaned on the locker next to
Rachel's.

"Fun?" Rachel stopped the process of going through


her things to look over at her 'girlfriend.' "No Quinn.
Fun is achieving a High F whilst underwater-"

"How is that even possible?"


"-hurting your dim though devoted boyfriend is not
fun."

Quinn popped off the lockers. "Devoted? Devoted


boyfriends don't lie and write sex books about their
girlfriends."

"I haven't forgotten what Finn's done."

"Then try and remember harder because you're acting


like we just punched a saint. And believe me Berry,
Finn's anything but a saint."

"I know that, but I acted selfishly with him last week
which I already regret and now I just hurt him again.
I'm sorry that I don't lack a conscience like you."

"Okay one: You don't know the first thing about me so


don't make the mistake of thinking that you do. And
two: this whole thing was your idea. Either commit to
it or stop wasting my time."

Rachel groaned as the other girl strutted away.


Perfect. She's put Quinn in defense mode. Why did
she have to have such a knack for doing that?

There was no way Quinn was dating Rachel. Too


many of their conversations made mention of how
much she didn't like glee's leader. Sam doubted this
was just her uber secret way of covering up that she
actually liked the other girl. He was sure that the two
just got Jacob to tell them that Puck had given him the
book. Then they somehow got Puck to tell them that
he and Finn helped write it. Based on what happened
Friday and how Quinn didn't talk to him all weekend,
he knew she knew. Rachel and Quinn suddenly
"dating" was just a revenge tactic or something. He
didn't know Rachel all that well, but at this point he
wouldn't put much past Quinn.

He needed to talk to her before this got any more out


of hand. It was never supposed to be like this anyway.
When Puck told Sam and Finn that he gave the book
to Jacob so they could all make some easy cash,
neither boy was all that excited but they agreed. It
was simple way to make some money that they'd
probably just spend on their girlfriends no less, and
that'd be it. Since coming to McKinley, Sam has
learned that eventually this was all going to be
forgotten and replaced by something new. It wasn't
that big of a deal because people didn't really seem to
have long attention spans here.

Sam found Quinn at their usual lunch table. He


walked over to join his girlfriend (ex-girlfriend?) and
took a seat. "You're dating Rachel?"

She took a sip of her Vitaminwater before answering.


"Yes."

"Quinn, you hate Rachel."


"No, I care about Rachel. Who I hate is whoever was
disgusting enough to write the book currently on
Jacob's about my relationship with her." She arched
an eyebrow, trying to end this now before it had to go
on any longer. "I mean, who would do something like
that? Who actually sat down and thought 'hey, this is
a good idea'?"

"Well I'm sure they don't think that anymore. I'm sure
they're real sorry."

She gaped at him. "Sorry? No, they can't just be sorry


and pretend it never happened. They wrote a dirty
book about me and Rachel. They wrote porn about
me and my girlfriend, and you think an apology will
take care of it?"

"Fine. If I find whoever wrote it I'll tell them not to


apologize. I hope you and Rachel are happy." Sam
shook his head and walked over to Finn's table so
they could have a conversation. He gave it to the end
of the week before Quinn got sick of Rachel and quit
doing what she was doing. Then they could all sit
down and talk about this like normal people-beings.
He wasn't going to play her games. He was so tired of
playing her games.

Quinn watched him walk away before productively


stabbing her salad. She really didn't want to believe
that Sam was dumb enough to challenge her. If he
was that meant she kept moving laterally between
guys.

"Hi." Quinn looked up from her lunch tray to find a


rather timid looking Rachel Berry. How was it that
fake-dating Rachel Berry was an upgrade in
significant others? A total downgrade socially, but as
far as upper brain function went…God, this was
pathetically sad.

She rolled her eyes at the girl standing in front of her.


"Well are you going to stand there all period or sit
down?" Rachel immediately complied and took a seat
across from Quinn. "Berry, this is never going to work
if you're afraid of me."

"Well I'm sorry Quinn, but I have every reason to fear


you and not one reason to trust you other than your
thirst for vengeance on Sam which by statement
alone should speak volumes on this alliance." Rachel
pushed her lunch box over on the table and brought
her backpack to its previous place. "I've given thought
to what you said this morning, and you're right. Other
than the common knowledge that you're Christian, a
cheerleader, attractive, and have had a baby, I don't
know much about you. I'd like to though; if only for this
week. Because, to respond to your second complaint,
I am committed to this. I think getting to know my
supposed girlfriend of five months would most likely
enrich our ploy." Rachel pulled out a notebook before
placing her bag on the floor. "So I've come up with a
list of questions to ask you. It will be like Twenty
Questions except I only have seventeen and it's not to
guess a specific object."

Quinn let everything sink in before answering. "This is


stupid. You can't get to know someone through
Twenty Questions."

"Seventeen and I wouldn't be getting to know you. I'd


be learning things that pertain to you which would one
day, theoretically, help me to get to know you."

"That's the same thing."

"No it's not. Would you just answer the questions?


This shouldn't be so difficult. Children are playing this
game."

"Fine. I'll answer your questions, and I guarantee by


the end of it you still won't know me."'

"I agree, but I will have learned things about you."


Rachel harshly flipped through her notebook until she
got to her list of questions.

"Will you just ask your damn questions?"

"There's no need to snap at me."

"Berry-"

"Question number one: What is your favorite food?"


Quinn took a calming breath and rolled her neck so
she could get through this ridiculous Rachel Berry
segment. "Bacon. Though, I never actually liked it
before I was pregnant." She shook her head slightly
as she watched Rachel briskly copy down her reply.

"Okay, question number two: What's your favorite


color?"

"Are all your questions going to be this stimulating?


And yellow."

Rachel looked up from the notebook to glare at her.


"Knowing someone's favorite color can prove to be
very valuable."

"Of course it can." Quinn took a bite of her now


shredded salad.

"There is really no need for sarcasm, Quinn. What if I


were to buy you a present? Wrapping it in your
favorite color would be a nice gesture on my part. It's
common psychology. Colors have an effect on human
response. For instance, red makes people hungry.
That's why most fast food chains put red in their
titles."

"So what you're saying is every time I or someone


wearing a letterman jacket walks down the hall,
people get hungry?" Quinn chuckled. "Well that would
explain certain looks I tend to get."

"I can assure you that no one is looking at you in that


manner because they want a burger."

"I know. It was a joke. You should be careful Berry.


That's the second compliment you've given me since
sitting down."

"Quinn, just because you are incapable of giving me a


compliment doesn't mean I can't give you one."
Rachel told her before returning to her questions.
"Now, question num-"

"I've given you a compliment before."

Rachel looked back up. "No you haven't. I would've


remembered."

"Then check again Mr. Memory because I distinctly


remember telling you I liked the shoes you had for
gym class in the sixth grade."

"First of all, you just insulted me while trying to prove


that you can give me a compliment. Second of all,
middle school doesn't count as no one knew what
they were doing."

"First of all," Quinn mocked, "Mr. Memory is a


character from The 39 Steps. Second, it does so
count."
"What's The 39 Steps?"

"If I told you it'd ruin the movie for you."

"Oh." Rachel frowned before scribbling down the


film's title. "I told everyone that I had an allergy to
latex and that every day I was fighting and testing
battle in the sixth grade."

"I know. I remember. That's why I put that rubber


band ball in your cubby."

"Quinn, that could've killed me."

"How? We all knew you were lying."

"But you couldn't have been certain. You know what?


Never mind. My point is, was that nothing we did
when we were eleven should count now."

"Alright, then I guess I was lying when I said I liked


your shoes."

Rachel shook her head and tried to get back to the


point of this conversation. "Question number three:
Who's your favorite parent?"

"My mom."

"Quinn." Rachel stared at her.


"What? Was that not a sufficient enough answer for
you?"

"That is one of the most complex questions on my list.


I put you in a false sense of comfort with the first two
so I could attack you with the third. And you answered
it as if it was a simple question."

"It was a simple question."

"Fine. Then why is your mother your favorite parent?"

Quinn tapped Rachel's notebook. "That's not on your


list."

"Well I'm adding it."

"Then I veto it."

"Quinn, you cannot veto a question in Twenty


Questions."

"Yes you can. It's like in Truth or Dare when you


change your mind and no longer want truth, you get a
dare."

"Would you like me to give you a dare?"

"Funny, but we're not playing Truth or Dare. We're


playing Twenty Questions."
"Yes, but with seventeen questions. Therefore, I
should be able to add three."

"And since that this came up in the middle of the


game, I should be able to veto all of them."

Rachel sighed. This girl was insufferable. "Question


number four: What are you dreams?"

Quinn frowned before answering. "I thought that


would've been obvious. To get out of Lima."

"No, I believe that would be a goal which is what


question number five is. I'm asking you what your
dreams are."

"Oh. Then I guess I don't have dreams."

"Everyone has dreams."

"Well I don't." She paused. "At least not anymore."

"Quinn, that's terrible. When I asked Finn this, he said


his dream was to meet Tom Brady and even that's
more acceptable than what you're saying."

"Why? It completely destroys you when your dreams


don't come true, and they rarely come true. Why
would I want to do that to myself?" Quinn expressed
and Rachel simply shut her note book. "What are you
doing? That was four questions."

"I think I can infer the rest of your answers based on


your last one." She explained though she still found
this all very upsetting. Quinn's apparent cynicism was
in a league of its own. Dreams are so highly
important. She has no idea what she would do or how
she would behave if her Broadway future wasn't
constantly on her mind. She would be at a complete
loss. She didn't see how Quinn didn't have her own.

December 08, 2010

Rachel was beginning to have second thoughts about


her plan. It seemed like such a good idea when she
came up with it. She told Quinn it would probably only
take a week. Rachel assumed Finn and Sam would
be confused and hurt on Monday and then confess to
their crimes on Tuesday. Now the week was halfway
over and nothing had happened yet. Yes, there were
still two days left to keep within the timeframe, but she
really didn't see that happening. Neither boy seemed
upset after Monday. In fact, they seemed so upright
she even stopped feeling guilty when looking at Finn.
This all meant that the plan wasn't accomplishing her
first task behind coming up with it. Truthfully, this
wouldn't have bothered her if it would've at least
accomplished her second task. And now she's 0 for 2.

Her second task was to try and get a handle on these


uncontrollable urges she's been having. By throwing
what she desires in her face she would no doubt stop
desiring it. Now yes, she knows it sounds like this is
all just a clever ruse to be near Quinn –ah– but no.
See, it all had a purpose behind it. This would most
definitely help get rid of certain thoughts and
daydreams. It hasn't yet, bu-but it will. And, hey, it's
already helped her stop reading the book. She
couldn't very well be around Quinn when having spent
her nights reading the book. That would've been rude.
Not to mention chapter five was basically a recreation
of chapter one just in a new location. Wall sex could
only be intriguing for so long. She couldn't deal with it
becoming a theme. She happened to like a little
variety.

Neither of her goals has been met, and so far the only
thing this plan seemed to achieve was letting
everyone in the school know that she and Quinn were
'dating.' The news spread quickly over the last three
days, and oddly enough, most people believed it.
(Even most of the glee club was coming around to the
idea though they were still wary.) All this resulted in
was an increase in chapter sales. Rachel will admit;
this was somewhat of a backfire. Quinn didn't seem to
care about any of this though. She seemed content
with only focusing on Sam, Santana, and hanging out
at Rachel's house. Because, yes, that was one of the
few good things that has developed in result of the
plan. It was decided Monday at lunch that they should
spend time together outside of school. So far it wasn't
anything special. Quinn would drive them to Rachel's,
they'd do their homework, they'd argue over their
homework, and eventually Quinn would drive home.
Still, it was something for Rachel to look forward to
after glee was over each day, and that wasn't typically
the case.

December 10, 2010

Rachel loved holding Quinn's hand. This was a


problem and yet another backfire. She was supposed
to be ridding herself of thoughts about Quinn, Quinn's
hands, and what Quinn could do to her with those
hands.

"They have no right to be doing this."

"Mmm?" Rachel looked up from their joined hands


with an unsatisfied pout.

Quinn didn't notice as she was looking down the hall.


"Finn and Sam. It's Friday and they still haven't
caved."

"I know. Do you think we overlooked the very


possibility that they're both stupid enough to believe
what we're telling them?"

"No. I can't speak for Finn, but I'm sure Sam knows
what we're doing. He pretty much made that clear on
Monday."
"Quinn!"

She looked at Rachel. "What?"

"You didn't see this as important information that you


should share with me?"

"No?"

"Quinn, this is a partnership. When valuable


information comes along we need to make sure we
both know it." Rachel told her. Quinn didn't seem too
interested in this. "I've been trying to figure out why
they haven't been more flustered by us. Now I find out
it's because they have admitted to knowing that we're
lying."

"They haven't admitted anything. That's the problem. I


gave Sam the perfect opportunity to admit to writing
the book, and instead he had the nerve to challenge
me. He wished us happiness."

"So what? They're trying to get us to come clean


before they do?"

"That'd be my guess."

"Well we can't have that. That will compromise the


entire plan."

"Compromise? That will beat the plan."


"Right. Well come on." Rachel began to pull Quinn
down the hall. "Put on your best couple face."

Quinn rolled her eyes but tried to cheer herself up


before arriving down the hall in front of Finn and Sam.
Both boys straightened up as they approached. She
had a feeling this was going to be the dumbest
conversation she's ever had. And that includes the
one she had with Brittany about the benefits of
swallowing Skittles instead of chewing them.

"We were wondering if we could have a conversation


with you both." Rachel began. Finn and Sam shared a
glance before answering.

"Sure. That'd be fine." Finn nodded.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay with our
relationship."

Finn inhaled. "Yeah. We're fine with it."

"Good because I don't want any tussle in glee. And


we'd also like to remain friends with each of you.
Right?" She squeezed Quinn's hand.

"Sure." She responded with nowhere near as much


enthusiasm as Rachel was looking for.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Finn agreed.


"We talked about it and we just really want you two to
be happy." Sam grinned at them.

"Hmm. Well then maybe you could help us find who


wrote the book." Quinn mused. "Because see that's
making us really unhappy."

"Oh. Well we haven't heard anything." Sam shrugged.

"But we'll let you know if we do." Finn added.

"Yeah, you do that." Quinn stared them down and had


to be yanked away by Rachel.

They walked further down the hall before Rachel


spoke. "Calm down, Quinn. Being this angry will do
nothing to help our cause."

"Calm down?" Quinn snapped at her. "Rachel, this is


a disaster."

"Yes, I know. I just think you need to cool off."

Quinn just shook her head and they continued to walk


down the hall until they were hit with tangible brain
freeze. Rachel couldn't appreciate this type of irony.
They opened their eyes to find the normal jocks
walking past.

Quinn followed after them. "What the hell? Are you


both too stupid see this uniform?" No one slushied a
cheerio. The only time an exception was ever made to
this rule was when Quinn was pregnant, but that was
it. Even being in glee didn't earn this treatment.
Brittany and Santana have yet to be slushied, and for
the brief time Kurt and Mercedes were cheerios last
year, they weren't either.

"You're the one who went all Ellen." Azimio turned


around and told her.

"Yeah, and Ellen with that." Karofsky waved his hand


in Rachel's direction.

Rachel crossed her arms. "Is she really the only


lesbian either of you could come up with? There are
several gay icons that would-"

"Whatever." Karofsky interrupted. "You just prove that


everyone in glee is gay." He said and walked down
the hall with Thing 2.

Rachel wiped her face after they were out of sight and
followed Quinn into the bathroom. "You know the
joke's on them because since Kurt left no one in glee
is actually gay. Except maybe Brittany and Santana,
but I still really haven't figured out their relationship."

"Neither have they." Quinn closed her eyes and


allowed gravity to let the slushie go where it wanted.
She didn't even care right now. She was alone in a
bathroom with Rachel Berry covered in slushie. There
was nothing to make this moment positive. "How did
this happen? I went from being head cheerleader to
getting slushied within two weeks. Why are Finn and
Sam being so stubborn? They're the ones who did
something wrong. Now I'm stuck in a fake relationship
with you, and even if this does work I've still got
Santana to take care of. Which I actually have no way
of doing."

"I'm sorry this is troubling you so, Quinn. We can quit


if you'd like." Rachel offered.

"What? No." Quinn's eyes snapped open. She wasn't


going to quit. Fabrays don't quit. Plus, she was driven
now. She really had nothing left to lose. Neither of
them did. That gave them all the power. "It's Finn and
Sam. They're wet noodles. We're going to win this,
Berry. It's just going to be a little bit harder than I
originally thought. Then I'll come up with some way to
knock Santana down on my own."

She'd have to. Quinn was throwing herself into this


game fully. If Finn and Sam wanted to join Santana in
trying to beat her at checkers then she and Rachel
would just have to start playing chess. They don't
want to make claim to their book then they'll just lose
their girlfriends until they decide otherwise. She
wasn't looking forward to keeping this pretense up
with Rachel, but she was going to play this game until
everyone else lost.
December 14, 2010

Brittany still believed in Santa Clause, and in a unique


twist, Finn loved Christmas. Both of these facts were
found out on Monday, and since then they've all been
helping Finn decorate and Artie keep hope alive for
Brittany. Personally, if this was all Quinn was going to
have to deal with in her final week of school before
winter break then she wasn't about to complain. She
really needed a break. If that meant she had to go to
the mall and sit on Santa then she'd do so.

"Quinn, what are you going to ask Santa?"

Quinn looked down to the girl resting against her in


line. "I don't really think it matters." She told her.

Rachel turned around to face her fully. "Of course it


does. When I was researching this earlier-"

"You were researching how to sit on Santa's lap?"

"I'm Jewish, Quinn. I've never had to do this before."

"That doesn't explain why you had to research


anything." Rachel looked at her for a moment before
folding her arms and turning back around. The girl
was just so damn hyper-sensitive. Quinn sighed
before nudging her in the back. "What are you going
ask him?"
Rachel looked over her shoulder. "I thought it didn't
matter?"

"Okay fine. Don't tell me. You won't get what you ask
for, but okay don't tell me." Quinn told her
offhandedly.

Rachel turned back around as they moved up in line.


"You're bluffing. Nowhere did I read that telling
someone else what you're going to ask for will ensure
that you get it."

Quinn smirked as they were now at the front of the


line. "Well if you're willing to take that risk."

Rachel hesitated but nodded curtly. "I am." She


walked over to the man in a red suit.

Quinn shook her head with a grin as she watched


Rachel formally introduce herself to Santa Clause.
She then seemed to enter into an extended
conversation with the older gentleman. Whether
Quinn liked her or not, she really couldn't deny that
Rachel Berry was certainly one of kind. And anyway,
she supposes Rachel isn't all that bad. She was still
pretty annoying and they could find a way to argue
about anything, but Rachel was a worthy adversary.
They've seemed to have built up a stable rapport with
each other. And dare she think it but she actually liked
spending time with Rachel. Only sometimes though.
Very, very few times. Hardly ever really.

"Your girlfriend is holding up the whole mall." Sam


voiced from behind her. Oh great, him.

"Yes, but she's by far the cutest person I've ever been
with." Quinn told him flippantly as Rachel finally
stepped down. Sam sighed before Quinn took her
turn.

December 17, 2010

Being Jewish, Rachel had never paid much attention


to the notion of Christmas Miracles. Sue Sylvester
doing something nice and Artie being able to 'walk'
had altered her perception. Now if she could get what
she asked for she'd never overlook them again. A
Jewish girl getting her Christmas wish granted was
like a stop sign wrapped in caution tape surrounded
by lights residing in a nudist colony. She couldn't not
see it.

"Hey, ready to go?" Quinn gained Rachel's attention


as she entered the choir room.

"Yes." Rachel nodded, but then paused her exit. "No.


Quinn I wanted to ask you something."

Quinn came back into the room. "Okay."

"Well I was just curious as to what your plans were for


over the break."

"Um, my sister and her husband are coming home in


for Christmas Day, but that's it I think. Why?"

"Then in that case, I was wondering if you'd perhaps


like to spend some time at my house? I've rented a
few classic horror titles from Netflix for us to watch."

Quinn frowned, bemused. "Why did rent horror films


around Christmas?"

Rachel furrowed her own brow. "Because you made


mention of The 39 Steps which I rented and was
surprised to find that it was a Hitchcock Classic. I just
assumed you had an affinity for old horror films."

"Not really. More just old movies in general."

"Oh." Rachel looked down.

"But horror classics are fine too."

Rachel perked back up. "So then you'll come over?"

"Yeah."

Rachel grinned. She was a stop sign in a nudist


colony.

December 24, 2010


Quinn has had a surprisingly good break so far. Most
of this week was spent avoiding her own home.
Because Mercedes had been busy with her own
family, for the most part Quinn had been at Rachel's
house. They had finished the first three horror
classics Rachel had rented on Monday. Somehow,
Rachel seemed to have three new classic titles every
day since. They were just there waiting to be
watched. Quinn would then thoroughly enjoy herself
while Rachel criticized random parts in the films. It
was nice, but getting Rachel to fall in love with old
movies wasn't the best part of her break. No, that was
Sue Sylvester. Or to be more accurate, the lack of
Sue Sylvester.

For the first time since becoming a cheerio, Miss


Sylvester had given them their entire two week break
off. There were threats about not putting on any
holiday weight, but there were no practices
scheduled. Apparently Sue's Christmas Spirit wasn't
dying anytime soon. This was reinforced when she
contacted all of their homes this morning and
threatened them into going to Mr. Schuester's home
tonight. They all called each other and agreed that
this was weird but decided to go anyway. It was Mr.
Schuester. Miss Pillsbury just married the dentist
recently, and none of them wanted him to have a poor
Christmas Eve.

Thus far, the party hadn't exactly been swinging


(considering it was their teacher's house that made
sense), but it had been fun. The first hour or so had
been spent exchanging gifts, past holiday stories, and
singing some more group Christmas numbers.
Currently, Mr. Schue and Miss Sylvester were having
a conversation with Mercedes. Brittany and Artie were
having couple-time near the couch while Santana
seethed watching them from across the room. The
rest of the group was busy trying to sing a song line
by line between them. And Quinn was standing
against a wall observing all of this while Rachel
securely fell asleep on her.

"This was a nice thing for Miss Sylvester to do."


Rachel mumbled out against Quinn's shoulder. "I
don't celebrate, but I'd contend that no one should be
alone on Christmas Eve."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Quinn, are you alright? You seemed plagued."

Quinn let out a laugh. "How would you know that?


Your eyes are closed."

"They haven't been closed all night."

Quinn watched Puck try to pick up Mike before


answering Rachel's previous question. "My dad came
back home for Christmas earlier."
"And this isn't a good thing?"

"No Rachel, this isn't a good thing. That's why I


decided to come here."

"Well I for one am glad you attended Mr. Schuester's


surprise holiday bash."

Quinn frowned. "That sounds like a television special.


I think it's time to go."

"No, I don't want to make you go home if that's not


where you want to be."

"Rachel you're falling asleep. Standing up."

"I am not." Rachel pulled away and tried to stand on


her own to prove her point. Tried being the key word.

"It's fine. Just let me take you home."

Rachel yawned. "If you insist."

Quinn pulled them away from the wall. "Do you know
how much time we'd save if you would just agree with
me?"

"I'm the one who doesn't agree with you? You argue
everything I say."

"Yes, but I wouldn't have to if you'd just agree with


me." Quinn pulled them through the room and they
bid farewells to their teachers before heading to the
bedroom to get their coats.

Quinn put on her cheerios jacket as Rachel found


hers. She giggled as the other girl got suited up. "I
can't believe you have mittens."

"There is nothing wrong with keeping your hands


warm." Rachel defended, and Quinn just continued to
laugh until someone else entered the room. Both girls
lost their happy mood as they watched Santana come
in.

"I've got to hand it to you two. You sure know how to


put on a good show." The head cheerio said.

Quinn looked away. She really didn't want to have to


deal with her tonight. "Okay, whatever this is going to
be, can it just wait until after break?"

Santana ignored her. "You two have got the entire


school believing that you're actually dating."

"Maybe that's because we are dating." Rachel spoke.

"I don't buy that for a second."

"No one's asking you to." Quinn told her and began to
pull Rachel towards the door. She stopped, however,
when Santana stepped in front of them. Quinn sighed.
"Look, we all know you're only in here because
Brittany's still dating Artie and has left you alone. So
why don't you go take it out on one of them?"

"You're one to talk." Santana sneered. "You're


spending all your time with a fake girlfriend."

"Once again, Quinn and I are really dating."

Santana shifted her focus to Rachel. "Fine, fine. You


two are really dating." She rolled her eyes. "Then tell
me what you want your combo-name to be: Tubbles
or Stubbers?"

"At least we have someone to make a portmanteau


with."

"Is that really what you think, Berry?"

"Let's just go." Quinn pulled Rachel around Santana


and got them to the door.

"You mean your girlfriend hasn't told you that I could


probably have one of those port-things with Finn?"
Santana once again stopped them from leaving.

Rachel turned back around. "Finn is free to do what


he wants. I no longer have any ties to him." Quinn
dropped her head against the doorframe; she already
knew what was coming.
"Then I guess there's no harm in telling you that I
slept with Finn last year and he's been lying to you
ever since." Santana smirked, Rachel's face fell, and
Quinn didn't move. "By the way, based on your
reactions it's clear that you could care less about each
other." Santana added one more blow before leaving.
Quinn bit her lip as she watched a dejected Rachel sit
on the edge of Mr. Schue's bed. Maybe Quinn could
just talk Artie into dumping Brittany. That way
Santana could stop being satanic.

Rachel looked up at her. "Are you the only one who


knows?"

"Um…by knows do you mean-"

"Quinn."

"I think it's safe to say now everyone knows." Quinn


sat down next to her and continued to speak to fill the
silence. "I think it was Brittany who told me, though it
might have been Puck."

"And none of you thought to tell me?"

"It's not exactly easy to tell. And no one really-"

"Cared?" Rachel supplied.

"That's not-"
Rachel turned away from Quinn. "He led me to
believe that everything we experienced with each
other would be the first time either of us was
experiencing it. When in reality, those events already
took place with Santana for him. You I could
understand, but Santana?"

"He only lied to you so he wouldn't hurt you. Other


people have lied for a lot less."

"Why are you defending him?"

"I don't know." Though, she expected it had


something to do with the fact that Rachel looked so
broken.

"Can you just take me home now?"

"Sure." Quinn nodded. This was going to be long drive


home.

December 27, 2010

So help her God, she was concerned about Rachel


Berry.

Quinn hadn't talked to her non-lover since dropping


her off Friday night. Rachel hadn't answered one of
Quinn's calls all weekend. She was sure she would
get some type of Jewish lecture after sending Rachel
a Merry Christmas text, but nothing. Rachel Berry did
not ignore her callers. There was always some sad
desperation when Rachel answered her calls. One
ring then two before she would give her never-
changing greeting. Rachel suddenly not answering
may have been causing Quinn to worry. But only a
little. Just enough to go check and see if Rachel was
alright. It's not like she was coming up with irrational
scenarios or anything. Besides, if some random,
hypothetical scenario was true someone surely
would've contacted her, right? Exactly. That's why
Quinn decided to wait it out and give Rachel two days
of space before coming over mid Monday morning.

She rang the Berrys' doorbell and waited. Because


she tended to be a patient person, she threw in some
knocks as well. Thankfully after about a minute or so,
the door opened, and Quinn was united with an
unkempt Rachel. Never had she seen Rachel look
non-presentable, but here she was in sweatpants and
a t-shirt all because of Finn Hudson. This was worse
than she thought.

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose." Rachel allowed her entrance and led


Quinn to a living room she was now rather familiar
with. Rachel sat down on her couch.

"I was worried. You haven't answered my calls."

"I know. I've been trying to process everything."


"And?"

"I think they'd be called Finntana."

"Or Sinn." Quinn joked. Rachel just stared at her.


"You're right. That's not funny."

"If you've come to make sure I'm alright as you can


see I'm fine. You don't have to stay."

Quinn joined her by sitting on the other end of the


couch. "That's not why I came over. Or at least it's not
the only reason I came over." She paused. "I thought I
should apologize. I could've told you I just didn't really
think about it. I don't- Empathy isn't an especially
strong trait of mine. I don't actually consider other
people too often. I don't really apologize either."

"I know. You don't have to."

"But I want to. Santana was wrong. I don't care less


about you. I mean, you don't mean the world to me or
anything. And I still don't like you all the time-"

"Is this your attempt at consoling me?"

"Fine." Quinn teasingly glared. "My point is I do care


about you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Well thank you, Quinn. That means a lot."


"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rachel was quiet awhile before responding. "I guess


I've been focusing on things I didn't expect to be
focusing on. It's just…it was Santana. She's a cheerio
and she's experienced. How could've I competed with
that?"

"Finn probably would've slept with anyone. It wouldn't


matter if he thought they were hot or not." Quinn
dismissed and the upon Rachel's look, closed her
eyes. "Okay, that sounded a lot worse than I wanted it
to. It was meant to insult Santana."

Rachel shook her head, observing her. "You are


exceptionally bad at this."

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Well maybe I would have


been more prepared had you answered any of my
calls."

"I'm sorry. I was just upset about many things." Like


Santana being Finn's first; Finn lying to her about
something so important; Quinn not telling her.

Logic had never been a frequent guest in Rachel's


life, but over the last few weeks he seemed to stop
coming over all together. This was Finn. She had
spent roughly a year pursuing him. She had assumed
they would still be together long after high school
ended. Yet, him sleeping with Santana wasn't
bothering her nearly as much as it should because
she was too busy focusing on the fact that Quinn
didn't tell her. This all should have been glaringly
obvious earlier. The only time she's ever been heavily
aroused was after reading about a make-believe her
and a make-believe Quinn together.

The simple fact was that she didn't care about the
book. And she was no longer thinking of the plan. She
just liked Quinn. Quinn Fabray. It was all so illogical
her head hurt.

January 03, 2011

Unfortunately, breaks are breaks, and they don't last


forever. Rachel, unlike most other McKinley students,
wasn't too upset about this. Regionals were coming
up in a couple of months, and she was determined to
start preparing New Directions this morning at their
meeting. As much as Rachel would like to stay home
and spend more time with Quinn, this needed to be
done. Besides, she had all the intention of spending
extra time with the blonde. That's why she asked her
daddy to drive her in earlier than he usually would on
Mondays. She figured she could have some time with
Quinn between her cheerios practice and glee.

As Rachel entered her school for the first time in two


weeks, she was presented with disarray. Random
cheerios were huddled together all looking rather
flushed. She scanned the halls looking for the only
one she was interested in looking at. She found her
waiting by Rachel's locker.

"Quinn, what's wrong with all the cheerios?"

"Miss S-Sylvester's good mood finally w-wore off.


Today was our f-first practice after break. We've been
outside s-since 5:30." Quinn answered, teeth
chattering.

"Is she insane? It's freezing out."

"I know. I c-can't really feel anything."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the thought of Sue Sylvester


before wrapping her jacket around Quinn. "You sound
like Tina pre-glee. Doesn't that woman know the risks
of being exposed to such cold temperatures? You
could all be fighting hypothermia or frostbite or the
flu."

"S-she said something about how only the weak s-


succumb to the common cold."

"She makes me not want to complain about Mr.


Schuester." She began rubbing Quinn's arms, trying
to warm the other girl.

"W-why? W-what he'd do?"


"Nothing, but I generally find myself making
complaints on his teaching methods. I'm sure there
will be something I won't approve of in this morning's
meeting."

"Brightside, I now don't mind being on the bottom of


the pyramid." Quinn sniffled. "Santana pretty much
froze up there all alone. She kept yelling in the locker
room about how much it takes for a hot Latina to turn
that purple."

"Are you getting any warmer?"

"A little."

"Then come on. We should get to glee." Rachel gave


her a tug, and Quinn handed the jacket back to her.
After a small dispute how she should keep it on, the
blonde won and Rachel tried to stuff it in her
helplessly small locker. They then walked to the choir
room and found no one but Santana sitting under a
blanket on the top row of chairs while Brittany did
jumping jacks.

"Quinn, I'm jumping to get warm. You should try it. S


won't do it." Brittany told them as they walked past
her.

"Yeah because I'm under a blanket. One with a lot of


room, so stop jumping and get up here." Santana told
her.
"But this is fun."

"Great, then I'm taking your place." Quinn pulled


Rachel up the risers.

"Uh, I don't think so." Santana said simply.

Quinn glared. "After everything you've done over the


last month, you owe me this much."

Santana rolled her eyes but pulled back the blanket.


"Fine, just don't accidentally squash me with your fat
ass."

"I'll try." Quinn spoke dryly and sat down next to her;
Rachel sitting on Quinn's left. "You're hogging it." She
gave a yank on the blanket.

Santana tugged back. "Well I should considering I


was the one smart enough to bring a blanket."

"I'm so happy you two are talking again." Brittany


smiled, still jumping.

Santana narrowed her eyes on what was going on to


her left. "What do you think you're doing?"

Quinn paused from bringing Rachel's hand to her lap


and looked at Santana. "What does it look like? I'm
holding Rachel's hand."
"Fine, but that hand better not start doing something
Rachel Cherry's would do." Santana warned.

Rachel swallowed, remembering just what Rachel


Cherry's hand would be doing. "Actually, I need my
hand."

Quinn frowned and released her hand. "Oh."

Rachel cleared her throat before opening up her book


of music. "So, um, what do you think about doing a
song from RENT for Regionals?"

"Nu-uh Berry." Santana immediately denied. "We're


not doing anything from Broadgay. You saw who the
judges were last year. I doubt any of them even knew
what a play was let alone have actually seen one."

"Santana, Olivia Newton John is famous for being in


an adaptation of a beloved Broadway Musical.
Furthermore-"

"Who cares? That's only one out of four, and that's


only if we get the same judges. We need to do
popular music."

"Journey has its fame." Rachel argued.

"Yeah, but Vocal Adrenaline did Queen and everyone


knows Freddie tops the man-chick from Journey."
"Steve Perry was not a, as you put it, man-chick. He
was a very talented vocalist. Do you honestly think I
would've agreed to do Classic Rock if he wasn't?"

"Whatever. We just need to do something to top last


year, and it starts by picking better music."

"So are you suggesting be sing a Queen melody this


year because I might actually…" Rachel began
flipping through her sheet music.

"No." Santana halted her search. "What we need to


do is call Kurt and find out what the Patron Saints of
Gays are doing, and you can go spy on Vocal
Adrenaline again. Then we can pick something better
than them."

"Santana, we are not doing that again."

"Not doing what again?" A new voice entered the


conversation and all four girls in the room looked to
see Mercedes, Tina, and Mike entering the room.

"Spying on Vocal Adrenaline apparently." Quinn


answered.

Mercedes nodded and addressed the bouncing


blonde in the room. "And what are you doing?"

"Jumping. It's fun."


"Really?" Mike grinned.

"Uh-huh." Brittany nodded causing Mike to join her in


her jumping.

"I'm so glad I'm not a morning person." Tina shook her


head and sat down next to Mercedes.

"Right?" Mercedes chuckled before turning around to


the three girls sitting above them. "So why aren't we
spying on the automatons this year?"

"Because we have no need to." Rachel answered


before anyone else could. "We are accomplished and
should have confidence. Showing that we do will
enhance our stage performance."

"So you want us to lie?" Tina questioned.

"What? No-"

"Look, just because we're supposed to have


confidence doesn't mean we do." Mercedes
interrupted.

"Yeah, especially since you gave them a new lead


singer this year." Santana reminded.

"And not just any lead singer, but one that's as good
as you are." Tina continued.
Santana smirked. "Better and less annoying."

Quinn rolled her eyes at the other three before turning


to Rachel. "Don't listen to them. You're better than
she is. Besides, she can't ride any rides." She tried to
lighten the moment.

Rachel, however, just panicked. "Quinn, I can't ride all


the rides."

"Hey, why are we all under blankets?" Artie gained


everyone's attention as he entered the room along
with the rest of the club sans Mr. Schue.

"Artie!" Brittany greeted her boyfriend by skipping over


to him. Mike shrugged and took a seat next to his own
girlfriend resulting in Mercedes and Tina turning
around for a new conversation.

Santana stared at a blonde with her wheelchair bound


boyfriend before taking solace in something else.
"Wow Hudson, looking good." Quinn wanted to punch
her.

Finn frowned but still blushed before sitting down.


"Thanks."

Quinn opted to forgo physical violence and went with


the classic verbal attack. Subtle but effective. "Hmph.
You know Brittany and Artie seem like a really good
couple don't they?" She asked Rachel.

Rachel nodded. "Yes, they seem to suit each other


quite nicely." Santana death-glared the two and
ripped the blanket off of Quinn before choosing a new
seat next to Finn.

She turned to her left. "Sorry."

"I'm fine."

"Rachel."

"Really, Quinn." She reassured.

Quinn didn't believe her. She was pretty upset last


week. There was no way that suddenly changed.
"Well, do you still need your hand?"

Rachel playfully shook her head before giving her


hand back over to Quinn.

Jacob held out his tape recorder and tried to continue


his interview with one Quinn Fabray. He followed her
after her last class and through the halls to her locker
desperately trying to get a quote. So far he hadn't had
much luck.

"Rumor has it that you and Rachel are still glee's


power couple. Has that caused any rifts amongst New
Directions?" He asked her.
Quinn shrugged. "I don't know."

"I think everyone wants to know who's the top and


who's the bottom?"

"Sure. Whatever."

He sighed. Absolutely none of this could be used. He


glanced over his shoulder to check if anything's
changed with what had been distracting the cheerio.
Nope, nothing. His Rachel was still talking to
gleemates Tina Cohen-Chang and Mercedes Jones.
Though he, himself loved to watch Rachel Berry, this
wasn't that special. It was nowhere near special
enough for Quinn not to be chasing him away with
Sylvester trained comments.

"Quinn Fabray, you've lost your edge."

Quinn finally snapped her attention to the blogger.


"Huh?"

He shook his head, and she watched him walk past


her before turning back around to be met with an
approaching Rachel.

"Hey." Quinn greeted. "What was that about?" She


gestured down the hall where her three glee
teammates were just having a conversation.
"I was trying to reiterate my point from this morning
that we do not need to focus on the competition. We
only need to focus on ourselves. We have the talent
to win, Quinn."

"We basically traded Kurt for Lauren Zizes. I think it's


going to take a little more to convince them we're
going to win."

"Well then I could use some help. We can't have any


doubt going into Regionals."

"Okay."

"Good." Rachel linked her hand with Quinn's and


began to walk them down the hall. "Why were you
talking to Jacob Ben Israel?"

"I think he was interviewing me." Quinn adjusted her


cheerios duffle on her shoulder. "What are you doing
today?"

Rachel immediately brightened at this question.


"Since that my daddy doesn't need to return to his job
until tomorrow, he's picking me up so he can take me
to the new vegetarian restaurant opening on Wayne
Street. I think it will be top quality and suit my vegan
diet."

"That's nice."
Rachel grinned in response. It stayed on her face until
they rounded a corner and she was hit with frozen,
colored slush. Rachel sputtered and wiped her eyes
while Quinn gaped at Dave Karofsky.

"One today." He looked at Rachel and then shifted his


piercing gaze to Quinn. "One tomorrow."

They watched him walk away, and Quinn tugged on


Rachel. "Come on. I've got some stuff in my bag."

She led her into the nearest bathroom so Rachel


could get cleaned up for her father. Quinn stared at
the slushie chunks residing in Rachel's hair. That was
one of the few pros about abiding to Miss Sylvester's
ponytail rule. Still, that didn't mean she didn't mind
getting slushied, and if Karofsky came at her
tomorrow they were going to have a real problem.
He'll be yet another person on her list. She just
wished she had thought of doing something before
today. This was only the second time either of them
had been slushied since the initial one a couple of
weeks ago. She just thought they stopped.

Quinn pulled out a towel from her bag. "I'm sorry


about this."

"Why? You weren't the one to throw it." Rachel spoke


quietly.

"No, but I used to laugh when this happened to you.


And I used to tell people to do this to you. Not to
mention, as your fake-girlfriend, I feel like I should be
saying something to him."

"Apology accepted, and that's not necessary. Saying


something won't cause anything to change." She
knew that by now.

"Then I should do something."

"You don't have to. And for the record, I think you've
been a great fake-girlfriend this past month." Rachel
sent her a smile.

"Well you haven't been too bad yourself." Quinn


returned it as she observed the sticky drink coating
Rachel's face. "Close your eyes."

Those eyes slightly widened. "What?"

"You've got slushie- Just close your eyes."

Quinn stepped forward as Rachel did as was asked


and shut her eyes. She gently wiped the slush from
her lids and tried to brush some more from her bangs.
She wanted to laugh as she cleaned off the rest of
Rachel's features. The girl was just so tiny and
soaking wet and honestly, kind of adorable. Finn was
an idiot for being so impatient and giving in to
Santana's charms.
"Can I open them now?" Rachel asked.

"Yes."

She opened her eyes and looked into soft hazel. Such
soft hazel. "Groceries." She suddenly uttered.

Quinn blinked, confused by the randomly stated word.


"What?"

"I just remembered that I have to get home to unpack


some groceries." Rachel answered as slowly as her
brain seemed to be working.

"Okay. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Well do you need any help?"

"I said I was fine."

"I meant with unpacking the groceries."

"Oh." Of course she did. "Well thank you but I think


that this is a task I can accomplish on my own."
Rachel nodded to herself and left a puzzled Quinn in
the restroom. She'd be fine. She just needed to keep
thinking about things like Mrs. Hummel carrying
heavy, plastic bags and Finn putting meat in the
freezer. Stupid soft hazel.
PART FOUR

January 04, 2011

At one time, Quinn Fabray had been someone to


pride herself on war tactics. She was formidable
within the walls of William McKinley High School. No
one challenged her, and if they did they lost the
challenge. Then along came Rachel Berry and her
ideals and her damn glee club. She had ruined
Quinn's tactics and had stolen one of her main
defense systems by convincing Finn that he had
talent. Everything had gone downhill from there until
now, at a year and a half later, when Quinn had no
war tactics, no defenses, and was retreating from
Dave Karofsky. She was also fake-dating the girl that
unintentionally put all of this into play, but that wasn't
the point.

It hadn't been the best of mornings for the once


formidable. It was clear that Karofsky's threat was to
hold up, and so far Quinn had been ducking into
classrooms and taking different routes. It was all so
pathetic she almost felt like asking him to slushie her.
But what else was she to do? She couldn't yell at him
because he wasn't afraid of her. The only ties she had
to her name were glee and cheerios, but glee was
useless and he obviously didn't care about the
cheerios rules. The only other form of defense she
could use would be a boyfriend, and she didn't have
one of those. All she had was Rachel, and she didn't
even seem to have her today.

While Quinn had been avoiding Karofsky, Rachel had


basically been avoiding her. Though Rachel has
denied that every time they had talked today. She just
keeps saying something about a hectic schedule.
This, of course, was a lie as Rachel always claimed to
have a hectic schedule. Which, actually, over time
Quinn has come to learn is nothing but your common
Berry exaggeration. No, something was up, and it
resulted in Quinn being alone at her locker stealthily
watching if a cup carrying a meathead on its back was
coming at her.

"I thought you'd be interested in knowing it's officially


over."

Quinn shut her locker. She would've rather dealt with


the meathead carrying cup. She slowly turned around
to face Santana. "What?"

"That's right Q. You can officially stop 'dating' Berry."

"Again, what?"

"Jacob posted the last chapter this morning. The


book's over." Santana explained. "Your boytoys
refused to write any more so it's over. Now you and
Berry can put us all out of misery and quit the
charade."
"It's not a charade."

"Right. Of course it's not. It's why you two are always
kissing and going on dates."

"Have you ever kissed Brittany? Outside of a locker


room? In front of people? In front of the glee club?"
She challenged; Santana remained silent. "Yeah,
didn't think so. We're already getting slushied, and if
people don't attack us they're only going to make
disgusting comments."

"Yeah but there's a difference. You claim to be dating


Berry. I was never dating Britt. Sex isn't dating."

Wow. It took a whole minute for Santana's creed to


come into a conversation about Brittany. "If it isn't
dating then why do you get so pissed every time Puck
flirts with someone else in glee? Or why do you spend
every practice shooting death-glares at Artie? Face it,
you like her. Just admit it so you can stop making
everyone else's life crap. It's Brittany. She follows you
around like a lost little puppy. It's not like she won't
pick you over him?"

"Tell ya what Q. I'll admit to 'having feelings' for B or


whatever you think I have if you admit you're not
really dating the dwarf."

"I'm not having this conversation with you again."


Quinn sighed before walking away or at least
attempting to. She knew damn well this wasn't over.
God, was this really what it felt like for someone to
chase after you with an unwanted, hostile
conversation? She should apologize to Rachel for
past deeds. She wasn't going to, but she probably
should.

"It's just a little convenient, isn't it?" Santana


continued, walking beside her. "For you and Berry to
all of a sudden be dating right after the book was
released. Come on Q. I know you."

"We were together before the book." Quinn rehashed


the story.

"Yeah and what? You just told Finn, Puck, and Spam
about you and Berry?" Santana picked up her pace
until she was standing in front of Quinn being very
roadblocky. "You forget I know who wrote it."

"Oh trust me. I haven't forgotten your involvement."

Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn's meaningless


warning. "Oh please. You should be thanking me. If
you are really dating her then at least the book gives
you something to think about when she's going down
on you. Because we both know you're not thinking
about her."

Quinn looked away for a moment before composing


herself. "Except I haven't read it."

"Still?" Santana glowered. "That was one of the main


reasons I had Jacob post this thing."

"Why would I ever have to pay to read porn about


myself? Especially after I found out who the money
would be going to?"

"Well if that's your problem I still have the originals."

"That's not the- I have no desire to read the book."

Santana smirked. "Why? Afraid you'll want to


consummate your fauxmance?"

"You're so gross."

"You're so prude."

They glared at each other before going their separate


ways. Quinn continued to keep her eyes peeled for
the only two people she had been looking for all day.
As luck (or perhaps unluck) would have it, they were
both in the next hall over. Karofsky was further down
the hall walking with a slushie cup, but that was true
50% of the time anyway. Still, she didn't want to take
the risk, and thankfully Rachel was closer. She
surprised Rachel by yanking her away from the
bulletin board she was reading. Amidst admissions of
owning a rape whistle, Quinn managed to pull Rachel
into an empty classroom. Once there, Quinn quickly
shut the door, and Rachel recognized her 'attacker.'

Rachel watched as Quinn peeked out of the door.


She had no idea what the blonde was looking at. If
her body was listening to her she'd move over to take
look for herself or she'd at least move away, but of
course it wasn't. It was in the exact position it wanted
to be in. It was being held to a wall under Quinn
Fabray. Okay, fine. Next to Quinn Fabray, but that
was more than close enough for her annoying, non-
listening body. This was massively unwanted. She
had already been avoiding Quinn today in order to
come up with ways to avoid possible situations such
as this. Turns out the idea of groceries didn't go all
that far. She even did the unthinkable and went
shopping with her fathers in order to obtain more
material but nothing. Now she was alone in an empty
room with Quinn and a wall and had absolutely no
resistance.

She needed to focus on something else. "Quinn, why


have you dragged me in here?"

Quinn shut the classroom door and looked at Rachel.


"Karofsky's down the hall, and like I was trying to tell
you earlier before I knew you were avoiding me-"

"I'm not. I already told you, I have a very frenetic


schedule today. And I don't like this, Quinn. You
shouldn't be running away from him."
"I'm not. I just have a frenetic schedule and have no
time to deal with him." She mocked. "I'm sorry I don't
feel like taking a slushie to the face."

"I'm not running away from you. I just have a lot to do


today. I truly do. So much so that I don't even have
the time to tell you all I have to do."

"Whatever." She turned to peek out of the door again.

Rachel sighed. Why couldn't Quinn be a little dumber


or gullible or something? It wasn't fair that she didn't
believe Rachel's feeble lies. What happened to her
interest in the dimwitted like Finn or even Noah?
Granted, this didn't fit Jesse's profile, but look how
that turned out. Well, that's it. If she made it out of this
alive she was only going to date those dumb enough
to believe everything she said. Of course, that would
mean excluding Quinn which just seemed to defeat
the purpose of everything. None of this was fair.

Why couldn't Quinn have massive flaws? Oh sure,


she had plenty of tiny, little flaws, but Rachel could
overlook those. Why couldn't she be an axe-murder or
have two left hands or excessive back hair? (Of
course, if she did have two left hands could she even
be an axe-murderer?) Why did she have to appear so
flawless and perfect to Rachel? She shouldn't. She
was absolutely horrible to Rachel; more so than
anyone else. Oh, but no. Because Quinn's been so
nice over the past month, Rachel was able to
completely forget about all that. Instead, she was
focusing on things like the soft column of Quinn's
neck. She had no appreciation for the vampire craze
her culture was stuck in, but she could sympathize
with all those loons now. Rachel really wanted to bite
her.

Quinn shut the door and turned towards her. "You


know I know you're not busy, right?"

Rachel nodded. "I'm sorry. I just needed a day to think


about some things."

"Is this about Finn? Can I do anything to help? Can I


do anything to him?"

Rachel laughed a little. She quite enjoyed the thought


of Quinn doing something to him. "No, and it's not
about Finn."

"Is it about Santana?"

"No, it's not about Santana or anything of the sort."

"Okay, well speaking of Santana, you should be on


the lookout because I may have just put her on
another war path."

"Quinn, must you continue to try and set her off?"


"She started it." Quinn explained and Rachel looked
ready to go into lecture mode. "Well she did. She
came over and told me the book was over and that
we could quit our relationship. And then she had the
nerve to ask why we never kiss or why we ne-"

"Why don't we?" Crap. She really needed to learn


how to not speak sometimes.

"What?"

"Kiss. Our false relationship has been out to everyone


for a month now. That's far longer than I had originally
anticipated to say the least."

"Because we have nothing to prove to Santana or


anyone else. We're doing this because of Finn and
Sam. And honestly, I'm not comfortable with the idea.
We're not actually dating, Rachel. Kissing should be
saved for someone you're dating or plan on dating."
Wait. That was hypocritical. "Unless you're like
drunk." Or feel fat. She silently added. "I mean are
you- Do you want us to-"

"No. It was nothing but a general inquiry."

"I just don't think it's necessary."

"You've made your point." Rachel ended the


discussion. "Is he still out there or are we going to
remain here through lunch?"
Quinn opened the door to check if the coast was
clear. It was. Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and led
her out of the room. As they exited the vacant room
they were greeted with a various degree of looks.

"This is another reason." Quinn sent free glares out


for everyone. "Could you imagine this school if we
actually kissed in front of them?"

"Quinn, it's not that bad." Though, she did find it


somewhat annoying and intrusive.

"Be honest." Quinn faced her. "You don't have the


urge to smack all of these people?"

"Slightly, but that's only because my need for violent


tendencies have increased since I've begun spending
time with you."

"That's funny because I think I've developed some


tolerance."

"Really?"

"Just with you."

"How is it that you manage to say something nice and


insult me all at once?"

Quinn laughed. "It's a talent."


January 05, 2011

Santana had it coming. She had done more than


enough over the past month to earn retaliation from
Quinn, but today was the last straw. Quinn was taking
action now because there was absolutely no reason
Santana had to keep this up. She had gotten her
revenge and received the cheerios. She had made
plenty of people miserable because she could. She
should be done. There was absolutely no reason for
her to leave a chapter of the story in Quinn's locker. It
was just too much, and Quinn had done such a good
job ignoring this story. She didn't need it placed at her
fingertips.

After throwing out the printed chapter that she refused


to open (not that she wanted to or was the least bit
curious), she had an idea. She knew how she was
going to finally counter attack Santana. And yes, it
wasn't exactly the kind of revenge she originally had it
mind. It was just going to pester her for a while. It
wasn't going to hurt her like Quinn had originally
wanted. And in the long run it would probably make
her happy because it was giving her something she
wanted, but it was giving her something that would
ensure her staying the hell away from Quinn and
Rachel.

Quinn found phase one of her plan staring at her


reflection in the trophy case. Brittany always liked
doing that. She said the trophies were like funhouse
mirrors or something. Quinn instilled some extra
patience within herself before walking over. She never
exactly liked having one-on-one conversations with
her friend. It always seemed to result in some sort of
a headache. "Brittany, you're just the person I wanted
to talk to." She greeted.

"I can't help you get back on top of the pyramid. S


said I shouldn't help you." She told her immediately.

"No, it's not about cheerios. I wanted to talk about you


and Artie."

Brittany smiled dreamily. "He's the greatest


boyfriend."

"That's nice. You should dump him."

Brittany dropped her smile and went with a frown.


"What?"

"Well yeah. I mean do you really think he's completely


over Tina? Besides, Santana wants to be with you."

"No she doesn't. She just wants to sleep with Puck


and now Finn." Now she traded in her frown for a
pout.

"That's not true. I was talking to her yesterday, and


she doesn't want anything to do with Puck. And Finn's
too busy still liking Rachel to even notice Santana."

"Aw. Quinn, are you jealous?"

"What? No. He's just an idiot who should stay away


from her."

"It's funny how you used to be jealous of her and now


you're jealous of him."

"I'm not- Brittany, we're talking about you and


Santana."

"But there is no me and Santana."

"Yes there is. Santana was just telling me how much


she missed you."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"But why did she tell you and not me?"

"Because if she told you she'd look weak."

"That's true. Maybe I should tell S that I miss her


instead."

"Yes, you should."


"But I don't want to hurt Artie."

"Just tell him the truth and he'll be fine." She advised.
"It's not like you'll be with him forever anyway. You're
a great cheerleader and a great dancer. He literally
can't keep up with you."

"Quinn, that's mean."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong. And who would you rather


be with, really?"

Brittany thought about it. "Santana."

"Good, then you should try and get her back."

"Okay, but how?"

"Well, I don't think you should come on too strong. Do


simple things, like singing her a song. We all know
you're the best singer in glee. I'm sure she'd really
enjoy it."

Brittany nodded. "I am the best."

"Right but remember, Santana's stubborn so you can't


give up until she gives in."

"I won't. Thanks Quinn." Brittany grinned. "Hey maybe


when this is all over we can go on a double date with
you and Rachel."
That'd go well. "…Sure. I'll see you later."

Quinn left her fellow blonde intent on finding phase


two. She found him a little ways down the hall talking
up some other cheerio. She grabbed him by the arm
and pulled him away until they were alone in a
forgotten corner of the hallway.

"Puck, we need to have a conversation."

"Me? You wanna talk to me? That's different." He


joked and earned himself a small smile. It was true
she hadn't been exactly been yearning to speak with
him at all this year.

"I need a favor." She told him and lost her smile upon
his Puckerman leer. "Stop thinking what you're
thinking. I'm serious."

Puck sobered and put on his concerned face. "Alright.


What's up Baby-mama?"

"I need you to stay away from Santana, and stop


doing whatever it is you do with her." She explained.

"What? No way. I'm not going to-"

"You owe me." She cut him off. "I know you wrote the
book, and Rachel and I can get you arrested or
labeled or something. I wasn't really listening to her
completely, but I know we can do something to you."

"Whoa. Calm down, and just so you know, I didn't


write it alone. Finn and Sam-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't care." She waved off. "The


point is you owe me, and I'm here to collect."

"Fine. I'll try, but come on Babe. You can't just expect
me to give away guaranteed sex with Santana
forever."

"Please. I know who I'm talking to. It'd just be for like
two weeks."

"Til next Friday." He countered.

"Fine."

"So you gonna tell me why I'm losing some


Puckerman love?" He prolonged their rare
conversation.

"Because I'm trying to get her and Brittany together."

"What? Oh come on. That leaves three straight girls in


glee, and they don't even count. Tina's with Mike.
Lauren's cool but she kinda scares me. And I already
tried again with Sweet Chocolate, but she turned me
down."
"Wonder why." She said flatly.

Rachel Berry wanted Quinn Fabray. Therefore, she


planned on getting her. Yesterday, Rachel had tried to
come up with ways to control herself and the
situations she seemed to keep putting herself in. She
wanted to avoid impossibly close proximity with
Quinn. Then late last night she had a different thought
and realized she didn't have to avoid anything. Would
it really be that bad to escalade a few things with
Quinn? Uh, no. Not in the slightest. So now it was
very simple what she had to do.

Rachel had to convince Quinn that they could make


their fake relationship real even though Quinn's never
showed any romantic interest in her. (Don't look at her
like that. Everyone knows aside from her future career
plans she's never been a rational thinker.) It's not that
unlikely. Quinn could fall for her. It wasn't impossible.
If someone would have told her a week before the
book came out that she would develop feelings for
Quinn Fabray she would've laughed at them. Okay,
well she wouldn't have laughed, but she would've
disputed their statement and questioned their sanity.
But look at her now. So no, it wasn't impossible.

It had been concluded that today's glee practice


would be the perfect time to begin her quest for
Quinn. She had planned a sweet serenade that was
sure to go over well until two separate obstacles
stood in her way. The first one was Brittany.
Apparently Rachel wasn't the only one who had
planned to sing to someone today. The jovial blonde
was giving a clearly unprepared though passionate
performance for Santana. Everyone was enjoying
themselves save for Artie who seemed a little upset
and Santana who seemed a little uncomfortable.
Rachel probably would've been pouting, but Quinn
was happily encouraging Brittany, and, well, Santana
was uncomfortable. This was never a bad thing.
Besides, she had no problem following Brittany.
Rachel was the most talented person in this room;
she could follow any of them. She would've too if it
wasn't for her second obstacle.

Mr. Schuester took control over the room and led


everyone in the usual applause once Brittany was
finished. He then told them all the, or what he thought
was, good news. Of course, Rachel found this to be
potentially bad news. She was all for New Directions
performing in assemblies (extra practice was always
valuable), but she had to question his motives. Glee
was fragile right now, and the only reason he seemed
to sign them up for Monday's assembly because was
because Miss Pillsbury-Howell suggested it. Also, it
didn't even make sense. It was an anti-drug
assembly. There was no way this could go well.

January 11, 2011

The assembly did not go well on Monday. Quinn was


vaguely aware of this fact. She may have spent that
period focusing on other things. And those other
things she had been focusing on knew entirely too
well that the assembly was a disaster. They were
booed, had things thrown at them, and because the
idea of sex wasn't involved, those boos never became
misplaced cheers. No, Rachel knew this needed to be
fixed as soon as possible. The glee club's confidence
was already down since Kurt left and they tied at
Sectionals. Yesterday really didn't help the situation.
Lauren was even talking about quitting which they
couldn't afford to have happen. Despite the fact that
she had no singing talents, she was a twelfth body
that integrated rather smoothly into the group. So
Rachel decided a pep talk was in order. That was
what leaders did after all. Now it was just a matter of
getting them to listen to her. She really hoped Finn
would play the role of her co-lead and joined her,
though she doubted he would.

Rachel played with her favorite blonde's hand and


waited for Mr. Schuester's speech to be finished. It
was just his assignment-of-the-week speech so it
shouldn't take that long. Once he was finished, she
asked for the floor and he happily encouraged her.
This was the tricky part. It was clear none of her
fellow glee clubbers were looking forward to whatever
it was they thought she was going to say.

"In light of yesterday's events, I think it's prominent for


New Directions to make some changes." Rachel
began.
"Here we go." Santana complained.

"How surprising. You don't like something." Artie


glared at her. (He's been doing that a lot lately.)

"She dumped you. Get over it." Santana told him.

"San, you said you'd be nice to Artie." Brittany


reminded and Santana bit back her next comment for
the boy.

"Whipped." Puck smirked.

"Screw you Puckerman." Santana had no reason to


be nice to him.

"In a week."

"What?"

"Excuse me, but I was going to say something."


Rachel interrupted.

"When are you not?" Mercedes sighed.

"Generally when she's singing." Sam answered.

Lauren frowned in thought. "They do seem to be the


only two things she does."
"You're forgetting her manipulations of the Asian
community." Mike added.

"It was one time." Tina defended against his love of all
things Asian.

"Still."

"Will you all shut up?" Everyone snapped their


attention to Quinn who spent the last minute or so
having to watch Rachel deflate before her. It was not
an enjoyable sight, and it was happening all because
the glee club kept interrupting her with rude
comments. Plus, it wasn't helping her conscience that
she used to do the same. "New rule. When Rachel
has something to say, you're going to let her say it. I
don't care if you find her annoying or disagree. You
can argue with her when she's finished. You're all
quick to point out the awful things she's pulled, but
you never say anything about the good." She turned
to Mr. Schue. "And you just let us get away with it."

"Okay, I don't even care if you're a real couple or not.


You two are the worst couple in glee history." Santana
leaned back in her chair. "God, now we have to deal
with Berry having finally someone to defend her?"

"I used to defend her." Finn argued.

"Name one time." Santana demanded.


"I used to defend her all the time when I was with
Quinn."

"That doesn't count." She corrected. "I said couples. It


doesn't count if you weren't with Berry at the time."

"Whatever. I was a good boyfriend, and I'd still be


being a good boyfriend if this whole thing wasn't so
stupid." Finn jerked forward when Sam kicked his
chair. "Well I would. I'm a good boyfriend, right?" He
asked the girl who should still probably be his
girlfriend but received no response. "Rachel?" He
frowned when she once again didn't answer him.

"Hey genius." Quinn gained his attention. "She knows


you slept with Santana."

Finn looked to Rachel who was looking down and


then back to Quinn again. "Figures you would've told
her. You always hated my relationship with her."

"Uh, actually I told her." Santana informed. "I thought


that would've been obvious after I warned you at your
mother's wedding."

Finn looked back to the only person in the room he


cared about at the moment. "Look Rachel, I know I
should've told you and I'm really sorry about that, but I
didn't want to hurt you."

"So instead, you thought it would be better if I found


out from Santana?" Rachel asked him.

"I just didn't think you should be hurt over it. It meant
nothing, and felt horrible afterwards. Besides, you
were with Jesse at the time. It wasn't like we were
even together. You can be mad that I lied, but the rest
shouldn't really matter."

"It doesn't matter." She shrugged. "If it mattered I


would've confronted you after I found out. I'm with
Quinn. What you do or who you chose to have
relations with is no longer my concern."

"But you're not even really dating her. This is crap,


Rachel." He complained.

Brittany frowned at Finn. "But if they're not dating then


why is Quinn jealous of you?"

"I am not jealous of Finn." Quinn snapped.

"I smell sexual frustration." Lauren mused, and before


Quinn could turn her wrath onto her, Mercedes
interrupted.

"Okay, can Rachel maybe say what she wanted to


say because I'd rather listen to that than this?"

"Seconded." Tina agreed.

"Well, all I was going to say, Santana, was that we


need to be more unified." Rachel dialed down the
original speech she had planned. "I know we all
secretly roll our eyes when Mr. Schuester gives these
sorts of speeches, but it's true. I think it's high time
glee stopped being so distant. We're supposed to be
a team."

"Rachel's right." Finn agreed and did indeed take on


his leader role. "We're supposed to win this year, and
we're going to."

Mr. Schue stepped forward. "I'm glad you all feel this
way because this is the only way we're going to get to
New York and compete for Nationals."

Rachel nodded and retook her seat. She allowed Mr.


Schue to take over again, and hopefully this time
everyone was listening to what he had to say. Of
course, that was a little hypocritical of her considering
she wasn't actually listening, but damn it, she didn't
need to listen. She was focusing on other things.
Quinn-things.

Rachel leaned over to place a small kiss to Quinn's


cheek. "Thank you."

Quinn smiled as she observed Rachel pull back. She


just looked so bashful and adorable, and Quinn really
wanted that look to remain on her face. Rachel Berry
should always look this, and Quinn wanted to be the
one to make it happen. Just look at her. Dark brown
eyes; a rosy red blush; soft lips as her cheek was
confirming. She'd bet they'd be soft in other places
too. And why was she against this whole kissing thing
anyway? Oh, right; because they weren't dating, and
she wasn't drunk. Nor did she feel fat. It also made
her uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. And it was
weird. Really weird…really, really…something.

-SMACK-

Normally, Quinn wouldn't enjoy a spiral notebook


being thrown at her head. In this instance, she was
more than okay with the wakeup call. Still, she wasn't
going to let who undoubtedly threw it know this. She
and Rachel both turned around to look at the culprit.

"Do you want me to go blind?" Santana heckled.

Quinn flung the notebook back. "Only if it's painful."

Mr. Schue sighed at the scene. Maybe this whole


concept could apply to everyone but those two.

January 19, 2011

For the first time since they've begun spending time


together, Quinn had finally invited Rachel over. She
only did this because it was also the first time in
weeks that her house was going to be empty for most
of the day. Her mother was, in her words, "going out
with the girls" today. Since her father had come back
home to "repent for his sins," he's been trying to get
back in both of their good graces. Therefore, they
were both being provided with nice allowances. So,
hopefully this going-out-with-the-girls thing would be
happening a lot. This house was suffocating when
more than one Fabray was home.

"Quinn, pause it."

Quinn frowned. It had taken them twenty minutes of


arguing in her room before they even decided on a
movie to watch, and now Rachel wanted to stop it.
They had only been watching it for five minutes.
"What?" She asked tightly after pausing the DVD.

Rachel nodded towards the screen. "That's Humphrey


Bogart."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well he starred opposite of Ingrid Bergman in


Casablanca. She was in Notorious with Cary Grant.
He's worked with Katharine Hepburn in The
Philadelphia Story who has of course worked with
Spencer Tracy, and he debuted with Bogart in Up the
River." Rachel put on a thousand-watt smile. "Don't
you see? It's six degrees of Humphrey Bogart. It's six
degrees of filmography. Oh this gives me so many
ideas."

"Okay, I don't think that's what six degrees of


separation is, and we haven't even watched all of
those movies."

"I've been researching." She offered a quick


explanation, and Quinn could see her head
formulating something. This generally wasn't good.
"Do you have any paper I could write on?"

"Yes. Why?"

"New glee assignment. We take the same concept


only use artists. Quinn, this will do wonders for mash-
ups. Imagine a mash-up of six songs rather than two.
And with twelve members, we can have two groups
and everyone will choose one song that will connect
to someone else's until they all connect."

"I don't see how any of that would work, but there's
paper over there." Quinn pointed over to her shelves
that held plenty of things Rachel could have a ball
writing on. She watched as Rachel crossed her room
a pick up a notebook and pen. She got that Berry
concentration on her face and- Hey, wait a minute.

"Not that one." Quinn quickly jumped off the couch


and ripped the notebook from Rachel's hands.

After getting over the initial shock of Quinn's actions,


Rachel smiled. "Quinn, do you keep a diary?"

Quinn frowned. "What? No. Who still keeps a diary?"


"Well then what is it? And more importantly, why don't
you want me to see it?"

"It's nothing, and you wouldn't like it."

"You don't expect me to just let this go do you?"

"Yes."

"Well I cannot do that."

"That's not my problem."

"Quinn."

"What?"

"Let me see it."

"Rachel, please. Trust me, it's not-"

Quinn stopped her plead as Rachel simply snatched it


out of her hands. And how did that even happen?
"Give it back." Quinn forcefully grasped for it, but
Rachel held it out of her reach. This went on for a few
minutes until Quinn finally gave up on the freakishly
resistant girl. Fine. If Rachel wanted to read it then
that was her own poor choice.

"Okay, just before you open it, you should know most
of it was done during my first few weeks of
pregnancy, and I was still getting accustomed to the
hormones." Quinn warned.

Rachel narrowed her eyes and wondered just what


was in this composition notebook. "Alright."

Quinn looked away as Rachel finally opened it. She


didn't see this going over well. Most of the book was
basically a shrine to her previous hate for Rachel.
Insulting sketches and vicious words amongst other
things. Rachel's face displayed all this as she flipped
through the pages.

"Is the whole book about me?" Rachel spoke in a


hushed tone.

"No, the second half really has nothing to do with you.


There's even chemistry notes in there somewhere."
Quinn answered, though it was all a moot point.

"I wasn't aware that you ever thought of me this


much."

"I didn't." Quinn shrugged. "I just hated you that


much."

"So I can see. 100 Reasons to Hate Rachel Berry."


She read from the page she had just flipped to.

Quinn grabbed the notebook. "And I think that's


enough of that." She shut it and returned it back on
her shelf before going to sit back on her couch.

Rachel waited until Quinn sat down to pull the book


back out. "Reason #1: She's loud. Well that's not a
terribly original reason to 'hate' me." Quinn sighed and
let her head fall to the back of the couch. "Reason #2:
She speaks in paragraphs. I most certainly do not. I
simply provide factual responses using a slightly
heightened vocabulary." Quinn shot her a look. "Okay,
so it may be true, but it's no reason to hate someone."

"Did you miss the part about pregnancy hormones?


None of it's going to be rational."

"Reason #3: She wears knee socks. KNEE SOCKS!"


Rachel gasped. "Quinn, there is nothing wrong with
knee socks. They are stylish and practical enough to
keep your legs warm in cold weather." She shook her
head before reading further. "Reason #4: She's trying
to steal Finn with her man-hands. Well that's at least a
legitimate reason. Reason #5: She doesn't have man-
hands. So you do recognize that my hands are hardly
masculine?"

"Can you please just stop reading that?"

She looked over at Quinn. The other girl was


practically pleading with her, and as a good friend she
should oblige. Except that she kind of wanted to keep
reading. Maybe Quinn wanted her to stop reading
because she was embarrassed. She was blushing
after all. Maybe if Rachel just silently read it Quinn
wouldn't mind. Rachel glanced back down at the rest
of the list.

Reason #6: She's not gross. At all.

Reason #7: She's TOO talented.

She wondered if Quinn knew these could be taken as


compliments.

Reason #8: She's going to get out of Lima and come


back to rub it into all of our faces.

She would never do that. She'd acknowledge the fact,


but she never actually come back to enforce it.

Reason #9: She's right about my cheerios uniform not


fitting.

Reason #10: She's nice to me for absolutely no


reason.

Reason #11: Puck sang to her the other day.

Reason #12: Finn really likes her.

Rachel turned the page over to see if that's where the


rest of the list resided.
"There are only twelve reasons."

"I know. I never finished." Quinn explained. "But there


is a really offensive drawing on the next page that
should compensate."

Rachel put the book in its home and went back over
to the couch. "I'm sorry, Quinn." She sat down.

"I thought I would be the one apologizing in this


situation."

"Clearly you were upset over my involvement with


Finn and Noah too. I won't apologize for the time I
spent with Noah because at the time I wasn't aware
that you two had a previous relationship."

"It was hardly a relationship."

Rachel ignored her. "However, I am going to


apologize for Finn. I acted selfishly when it came to
him all while I thought he was who got you pregnant. I
should have apologized earlier. It's just I've never felt
remorseful until now. I never took your feelings into
consideration."

"I was horrible to you. As proven." She gestured to


her book shelf. "I don't blame you. And I'm not mad
about it anymore. I haven't been for a while. You
could probably thank Sam for that."
"Well at least he was good for something."

Quinn laughed. "I think you're the only person in the


school who doesn't like him. You know, most people
find him adorable."

"Yes, but I'm smarter than everyone else." Rachel


held her head high. "He makes up his own words and
according to Finn, is highly obsessed with his own
body. That is not adorable."

"If you're so smart then why Finn? How is it that he


gets to be with you?"

"Are you saying Finn doesn't deserve me?"

"No." Quinn paused. "Despite the fact that he's brain


dead, Finn's a good guy. And for the most part he was
a good boyfriend. He deserves to be happy. I just
think you deserve someone better."

"I want someone better."

"Good. You should." Quinn turned away to play the


film.

Terminally oblivious. Rachel had finally found a


Quinn-flaw that she couldn't overlook. This needed to
change.

"Quinn?"
"Yeah?"

"What are you doing this Saturday afternoon?"

January 22, 2011

Rachel was nervous. She had never introduced a


significant other to her fathers before. And yes,
technically, Quinn wasn't a significant other, but she
was significant. Either way, this was a brand new
situation. Her dads had only met Finn in passing, and
that seemed to go nicely. Neither man was
particularly impressed, and they would later complain
that he was too tall for her but the initial meeting went
well. As far as Jesse and Noah went, well, there was
never time for them to meet Jesse, and they didn't
even know about Noah. Quinn was a first, and Rachel
wanted this to go perfectly. She needed it to.

Since Quinn had been coming over to her house


more and more, Rachel only found it appropriate to
tell her fathers about this. She had been talking about
the blonde quite a lot over the last few weeks. She
hasn't outright told them about her feelings for Quinn
nor has she talked about her like a friend, but
because of her enthusiasm while talking about Quinn
she was sure they put it all together. The Berrys were
not a subtle clan. She wasn't sure where there opinion
was on this new development or Quinn in general
though they had to be pleased that she was officially
introducing them to someone. This is why it needed to
be perfect, and she needed to prep all parties
involved.

Rachel ran down stairs to answer her ringing doorbell.


Apparently Quinn did not get this memo. "Why are
you wearing that?"

Quinn frowned and looked down at herself. "What's


wrong with my cheerios uniform?"

"Well nothing when you're wearing it at school, but


you never seem to take it off."

"So you want me to take it off?"

Yes, but for entirely different reasons that have


nothing to do with the situation. "No, I would like you
to change. I'm sorry, but it just isn't proper attire for
today. Honestly Quinn, does Miss Sylvester have a
rule that doesn't allow her cheerios to wear anything
else?"

"Yes and she has spies." Quinn nodded. "And I really


don't feel like running one hundred suicides in the
middle of January."

Rachel didn't doubt any of this. She held out her


hand. "Come one. I believe I have some clothes that
could fit you."
"Actually, I've got something in my car."

"Did you anticipate this?"

"No. I keep a bag of clothes in my car."

"Oh."

"I'll be right back." Quinn went to retrieve the bag that


had basically gotten her through last year. Or at least
until she had to go out and buy maternity wear. She
came back inside and used Rachel's bathroom to
change into something a little more civilian (according
to Sue Sylvester).

Rachel waited for Quinn to finish and join her in her


room. She was pleased with Quinn's selection when
she finally did. However, she didn't waste time
admiring a Quinn-with-hair-down as she had to
prepare the other girl before her fathers returned
home. "We need to go over a few things. First
impressions can prove to be greatly important."

Quinn chuckled. "Rachel, I'm meeting your parents.


I'm not interviewing at Yale. Why are you so
nervous?"

"I've never introduced anyone to my fathers before. I


don't exactly bring a lot of friends over, and I need this
to go well."
"Any reason why it wouldn't?"

Rachel looked on incredulous. "There is an infinity


amount of reasons. The dinner could burn. You could
be allergic to one of the dishes. There could be a fire.
What if we lose power? What if a war starts? Or-"

Quinn stepped forward and grabbed Rachel's flailing


arms. "Any logical reasons?"

"What if they don't like you? What if you don't like


them? Quinn, the first time I told them anything about
you was right after I met you in the sixth grade and
you tripped me on purpose. Neither of my fathers
encourage bullying. My dad might ignore this, but
there's no way my daddy's just going to let this go. He
had a mini-fit when I told them who my new friend
was weeks ago. He's very protective of me."

"So then I'll apologize to them. I probably should


anyway."

"Okay, just don't bring it up if they don't first. And


when in doubt follow my lead."

"Rachel, you need to calm down otherwise this whole


night is going to be a disaster."

"Calm, Quinn? How can I be calm? How are you


calm? This was a rash idea on my part. Have you
ever done this before? Because I think there's plenty
of room for error."

"Seriously, relax. I've met plenty of people's parents


before."

"And they all went well?"

Quinn thought it over. Brittany's parents liked her, but


they liked everyone. Santana's parents were
nonexistent. Finn's mom accepted her until the lie
came out. Puck's mom really couldn't stand her.
Mercedes' parents took her in, but she didn't have a
relationship with either of them. Kurt's dad she met
while he was in a coma. She and Sam never reached
that point, and her own parents threw her out…That
wasn't too good of a track record. This probably
wasn't go to go well either.

"Quinn!"

"Um…most of them went well."

"Most? How many is 'most'? What type of odds are


we dealing with here?"

Quinn opened her mouth to attempt to give a


reassuring reply, but was cut off as Rachel's parents
arrived back home. They knew this because they
could clearly hear the two men arguing downstairs.
This really wasn't a good sign.
"Why are they yelling?" Quinn asked their only
daughter. Only. Yeah, no Quinn was screwed.

"They do that sometimes. Typically over mundane


dilemmas." Rachel explained. "Ready?"

Quinn looked at her. Was she serious? "Well not


anymore."

Rachel took a deep breath and grabbed Quinn's


hand. "Come on."

The two girls descended the stairs, and once the


came into view the older men got distracted form their
argument.

"You must be Quinn." The taller one of Rachel's


fathers greeted with a grin. Maybe they were
panicking for nothing.

"Yes. Hi." She waved as Rachel pulled them all the


way down the stairs.

"Quinn, this is my dad, Frank Berry." Rachel


introduced her to the man.

He offered his hand for her to shake which she did.


"It's nice to meet you Mr. Berry."

He gave her another welcoming smile. "You can call


me Frank."
"And this is my daddy, Leonard Berry." Rachel
dragged her attention over to the shorter of the two
who wore glasses.

He made attempt to shake her hand and simply said,


"You can call me Mr. Berry," before going into his
kitchen.

No. This was not going to go well either.

To put it politely, dinner was an experience. Most of it


went smoothly; there were just a few moments to
avoid looking back on. Though she got along with
Frank Berry, Quinn got the impression Leonard Berry
didn't like her very much. And unlike Rachel said, he
really didn't warm up to her. There had been the
moment when he had asked her what she planned on
doing after high school, and since she absolutely no
idea, she decided to tell him about the time her
parents told her to be a lawyer. Rachel had made a
light comment about how Quinn should consider it
based on her need to argue everything. Mr. Berry
didn't seem to like that quality too much. Then, not but
a few minutes later, he bluntly asked Quinn what her
intentions with Rachel were. She then lost all
eloquence and almost choked. No, no. Literally. Like,
on her food. He had surprised her with the question,
and it was at that moment that her brain chose to stop
working. When it picked up again, she had dumbly
answered that they were friends and she intended to
stay her friend. She blamed Rachel for this. There
was no reason she had to infect Quinn with her
anxiety.

Rachel walked Quinn out to her car, also relieved the


evening was over. Her daddy had embarrassed her
several times and they'd be having a talk about his
behavior late, but right now she just needed to see
Quinn out. She watched as the cheerleader put away
her duffle bag and shut her car's trunk. "Quinn, may I
ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why do you keep a bag of clothes in your car?"

Quinn took a moment before answering. "It's been in


there since my parents kicked me out. I just haven't
found a reason to unpack it yet."

Rachel had no response for that. This was horrible.


She hated being speechless, but she was. So instead
she just grabbed Quinn's hand, kissed her knuckles,
and pulled her in for a hug. She wasn't exactly sure
how Quinn would react to this so she was grateful
when she felt a hand move to the small of her back.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Quinn asked quietly.

"I've got piano lessons in the morning, and then I'm


free. Why?"
"Because I'd really like to spend the day with you."

"Okay." Rachel sighed pleasantly. That idea sounded


wonderful. Maybe they could just do this all day
tomorrow and the day after that. No, that probably
wouldn't go over too well at school. They'd certainly
get some reactions out of glee. She giggled into
Quinn's shoulder. "Imagine if Finn or Sam could see
us right now. Or even Santana for that matter." She
laughed again but got nothing out of Quinn. Rachel
pulled out of the hug to check on the blonde. "Quinn?
Are you okay?"

She nodded. "It's nothing. I just…I guess I forgot there


was a plan for a second. I forgot that…Well-"

"There was a reason behind all this?"

"Yeah." Quinn just stared at Rachel for a few


moments before brushing some of her bangs out of
the way to place a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you
tomorrow."

Rachel watched Quinn get in her car and drive away.


Well that was that. Her daddy was just going to have
to get accustomed to the fact that Quinn Fabray
wasn't going anywhere.

January 25, 2011


Puck sat in the auditorium and watched yet another
glee cub performance. This time it was Tina, Rachel,
and Mercedes singing some chick song he's never
heard before. Glee's been doing this a lot lately.
They've all been paring up in random groups weekly
so they can get 'unified' or whatever. It sounded
stupid, but he had to agree for the most part. Coach
Beiste said the same thing for the football team, and
this was the first winning season they've ever had.
Still though; this song really blew. The only people
who seemed to be enjoying it were the girls and Mr.
Schue. Q had a particular shy smile on her face. He
smirked. She was so screwing Berry. He's been
meaning to find out more about this. Now seemed like
a good time. Maybe he could even drown out this
damn song.

Puck moved down the row of seats and sat down next
to a secluded Quinn. "So you're dating Berry?"

She looked up as he sat down. "Where have you


been?"

"Come on Quinn. Be straight with me. Unless you


can't because you're all lesbo now."

She glared. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Yeah, you like her." He said simply. "It's cool though.


A little weird because I didn't believe you guys at first.
And it kinda sucks because she's the only other hot
Jew at this school and you're my baby-mama, but it's
cool. Especially if you take me up on that threesome
offer."

"Not a chance. Why don't you try Brittany and


Santana?"

"Are you kidding? I've been trying for two years." She
shook her head with a smile. Of course he did. "You
know Finn and Bieber are pretty upset about this
whole thing."

Quinn shrugged. "They did it to themselves."

"And with Artie still pissed about Brittany dumping


him, you've taken away all my bros." He continued.

"There's Mike." She pointed out.

"Yeah, and he doesn't like hanging out with them


anymore either."

"And like I said, it's their own fault." Err, besides Artie.

"Uh-huh, which is why you and Rachel can come find


me if they give you any crap. I got your back."

"You know, you're a really good guy sometimes Puck.


You should try that more often."

"That would kill my badassness."


Puck watched her roll her eyes and then send a smile
to the stage as the crap song finally finished. Rachel
of course returned it as Tina and Mike had a similar
exchange. Well this wasn't fair. Puck aimed his own
sly grin at Sweet Chocolate. She just looked wary and
then said something to Tina. Oh great. They were
probably gay together too. That left Lauren, and she
fucking scared him. Seriously. She could probably
beat him up. Though, their seven minutes in the
janitors' closet were weirdly awesome. Maybe…Nah.
She really scared him. Plus, it'd be spring soon, and
his pool cleaning business would pick back up.

January 27, 2011

Dave Karofsky couldn't win. His resolve finally broke


for a fateful second in that locker room. However, God
must have been on his side because when he wasn't
expelled, Kurt Hummel transferred. He had lost his
constant reminder, and he had lost the only person
who knew anything. He didn't have to think about the
possibility that he might be gay. It was freeing to have
all those weights lifted. Unfortunately, that feeling only
lasted a couple of weeks because soon a book came
out followed by Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. And
he hated it. He hated that he had two, new reminders.
He hated that no one cared they were dating. It wasn't
fair that no one other than the O-Line was giving them
hell for it. What gave them the right to walk around
McKinley happy together? At least Kurt seemed as
miserable as he was.

Karofsky was once again watching his two happy


reminders down the hall. It wasn't a new sight. They
were just holding hands and laughing about
something. Probably going to glee. That was another
thing he hated. Glee club. What the fuck? They all
always seemed so happy and comfortable doing
super gay things. Even Puckerman. How did none of
it faze them? And why did it have to faze him? He
glared as the reminders walked towards him. Of all
the times not to have a slushie. He decided to just
knock into the shorter one's shoulder. He figured it'd
give off the same effect. This probably wasn't
something he should've done because it resulted in
him having to deal with that annoying, chick crap.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Quinn Fabray


challenged him. "She's, like, the size of your leg."

"Whatever." He turned around and began to walk


away. He's never been a fan of Quinn's or any
cheerio for that matter. He was always able to see
through their crap and never had a reason to fall for
their flirting.

"No." She followed after him.

"Quinn." Rachel tried to pull them back where they


were originally heading. Well at least one of them was
smart.
"No. I'm tired of being slushied. I want to know if his
problem is with glee or just us." He heard Fabray
argue and still follow after him. He really didn't want to
deal with this. "So what is it?" She asked him. He
ignored her. "Oh I see. It's probably a bit of both. Or
maybe it's something else. Maybe it's the same
reason you went after Kurt."

That was it. He was done listening to all this shit. He


quickly turned and grabbed the cheerio by her upper
arms; pushing her into the lockers. Somewhere in his
mind he knew this wasn't exactly cool.

"Do you ever just shut up?" He gritted out. She had no
comeback. Probably because she was scared. She
looked scared, and so did her little girlfriend. Well look
at that, he thawed the ice queen.

He didn't get to revel in this fact any longer as


someone rammed into his side. It was enough force
to knock him away. He turned to lay into whoever it
was. It was Mike Chang. Great another gleek. What
the hell were all of their problems? He couldn't handle
this.

"So Kurt wasn't enough? Now you're going after


girls?" Chang accused. Karofsky had enough and lost
some more resolve only this time it was a punch that
met a face rather than a kiss. Why did he do that? He
was already fighting expulsion.
He looked from Mike who was grabbing his jaw, back
to his reminders who were grabbing each other, and
finally to the shocked faces of the hall. God, why
wouldn't they all just leave him alone? He hit the
nearest locker and left the hallway with a bang.

Not too many minutes later, Tina was holding an


icepack to Mike's jaw while Rachel was retelling the
story of the recent hallway squabble. No one in glee
was happy about this. Even Santana seemed to be on
their side.

"What's this guy's problem?" Finn complained.

"Who cares?" Puck sneered. "I just want to go Rambo


on his ass."

"Hey." Will stopped them there. "No one's going


'Rambo' on anyone okay? No come on, we've got
rehearsal."

"Besides, Mike already went all Bruce Lee." Artie


joked.

"Yeah, but now my face hurts." Mike told them but


then winced. "Ow."

"Don't talk." Tina advised and pressed the icepack


more securely.
"Guys, seriously." Mr. Schue tried again.

Mercedes frowned. "Maybe we can use this."

"What do you mean?" Tina asked her.

"Well he attacked Quinn. Maybe we can actually get


him expelled."

"Then Kurt would come back."

"Exactly."

"Except he didn't attack me." Quinn interrupted.

"I think there are bruises forming where he grabbed


you." Rachel rotated Quinn's arm. This was good
news if they could actually get Kurt back.

Quinn looked down to the same spot that was nothing


but fading red. "And I think you're overreacting."

"Quinn, Mercedes is right. I don't think neither


Principal Figgins nor The School Board would take
lightly to the idea of a football player assaulting a
cheerleader."

"Yes, except he didn't assault me."

"He grabbed you and held you to a locker."


"But I'm fine."

"Besides," Santana gained their attention, "You don't


even have proof, and it's Figgins. This school's faculty
is ridiculous." She looked to Mr. Schue. "No offense."

"Look, we're done talking about this. If you want to go


to Figgins we can, but there will be no fighting this
guy. Especially you Puck, you're still on probation."
Mr. Schue reminded. "Now right now, we need to start
talking mash-ups. Rachel and I have been working
out a new idea, and I think you'll all like it."

"I think we should go straight to Principal Figgins'


office tomorrow morning. We can go over what to say
this afternoon." Rachel began planning immediately
after they left glee.

Quinn bit her tongue and refrained from saying


anything cruel. She knew the moment the words
came out of Mercedes' mouth that this wasn't going to
be good for her. Rachel clearly had her hopes up, and
Quinn was going to have to crush them. It wasn't a
pleasant prospect.

"This needs to be done delicately. We need to


prepare a strong case for expulsion. It shouldn't be
too hard considering this is Karofsky's second
offense." Rachel continued.

"Okay, we need to talk." Quinn kept them from


walking any further and walked them over to the
barrier of the now empty hallway. "You need to stop.
We're not going to Figgins or The School Board or
anyone else you come up with."

"Quinn, I don't think you understand what this could


mean."

"No, I understand it Rachel, and it's not going to


happen."

"Alright, why isn't it going it going to happen?" Rachel


folded her arms and humored Quinn's apparent
decision.

"Have you at all stopped to think about how it would


go?" Quinn questioned.

"Well of course I've-"

"They'll ask why he bumped into you or why I


confronted him. And if we take this to the degree
you're talking about then parents will be brought in.
My parents can't ever know about us."

"Surely if we just explain to them that we're not


actually-"

"They're not your dads, Rachel. A technicality won't


matter." Besides, that really isn't even a technicality
anymore.
Rachel looked over at Quinn who just looked so
afflicted. As much as she wanted Kurt back, she
couldn't ask Quinn to do this if she didn't want to.
"Well okay then. We won't go to Figgins. I don't want
to cause you any unnecessary stress. I'm sure
Karofsky will make some other mistake, and if not
he's a senior so Kurt will be back next year anyway."

"I just can't. I can't be that person." She couldn't be


that selfless. Hell, she couldn't be selfless at all. She
was a selfish person. Everything she did was to
benefit herself. The only times she hasn't was when
she was pregnant. So really, that didn't even count.
She couldn't be that person for Rachel.

"Quinn, that's okay." Rachel looked up at her with one


of those optimistic smiles she tended to have.

Quinn decided it be better to stare at a poster on the


opposite wall. "No it's not."

"Yes it is. I'm sure everyone will understand your


reasoning. I'm sure if your parents were a little more
understanding themselves you wouldn't hesitate in
doing the right thing."

Quinn snapped her attention back to Rachel. "Why?"

"What?"
"Why are you so sure? Really, when have I ever
proven that I'd do otherwise?"

Rachel frowned. "Where is all this coming from? I just


told you that it was fine; that everything would be fine.
Why are you challenging me on this?"

"Because I don't care." She said pointedly. "This has


to do with Kurt and not me so I don't care. And I
should. And you should care that I don't."

"I would if it were true, but based solely on the fact


that we're having this conversation, I know that it's
not."

"And if it is? I'm not a very good person, Rachel. You


should know that better than anyone."

"I thought it was established that I didn't know you


then? Quinn, I know you now, and I think most of the
time you are a good person. I'm not going to fault you
for fretting that you might once again be thrown out of
you home."

Quinn sighed. "That's not what this is about."

"Okay, then what is this about? Because I must admit,


this entire conversation is throwing me for a loop."

"I know and I'm sorry." She shook her head and
cleared her doubts. "It's nothing. Come on, I'll take
you home."

Rachel halted her. "Quinn, don't do that; don't shut me


out. Something's obviously bothering you."

"It's not important." She denied.

Rachel remained silent and followed after Quinn.


Whatever it is was important and was generating a
distance. She knew this because Quinn didn't grab
her hand.

PART FIVE

January 28, 2011

Rachel was worried about Quinn, and because of her


concern, she decided it's be best to come in a little
early. She figured she could corner Quinn after her
cheerios practice. Something was wrong. Whatever
was on Quinn's mind yesterday obviously wasn't
going anywhere. After Quinn had taken Rachel home
yesterday, communication had ceased. This wasn't all
that unordinary. There had been a handful of days
where they would go their separate ways after school
and not talk again until the next morning. Still though,
Quinn typically found the time to send her quick texts
which was not the case last night. Because Rachel
was such a rational person, she was panicking.
Despite everything that has happened over the last
two months, she was still Rachel Berry and this was
still Quinn Fabray. A fact that she was very much
afraid has come to Quinn's attention. This compiled
with Quinn's insecurities on her parents wasn't looking
too good. She was quite fearful that Quinn might end
this over reasons she just doesn't know of. Hence the
panicking.

Rachel, as planned, found Quinn after her cheerios


practice. The blonde was just staring into her locker,
motionless. She looked worn out. "Quinn." She
greeted her confidant.

"Hey." She looked at her before returning to stare into


her locker.

"Was your cheerios practice grueling today?"

Quinn smiled. "Isn't it always?"

"With Sue Sylvester as your humble leader, I wouldn't


expect any less." They laughed until there was
silence. Rachel shut Quinn's locker. "I was hoping
you'd tell me what was bothering you yesterday."

Quinn, now having no choice but to look at Rachel,


turned to her right. "I already told you. It was nothing."

"Though my intelligence is sometime hindered by my


tunnel vision type goals, I am by no means a Finn."

"Then you should be smart enough to trust me when I


say it's nothing. Just drop this, Rachel."

"No." She said firmly. Quinn sighed, and Rachel


grabbed onto her to keep her from going anywhere.
"We were so close to…Please tell me what
happened." She looked up, hopeful. Quinn hated
when she did that. She had absolutely no shield for it.

"I just…" Quinn trailed off as something caught her


eye behind Rachel.

Rachel let go of Quinn and glanced behind her to see


what earned the blonde's attention. It was an
approaching Finn and Sam. Two people she suddenly
had the intention of murdering during the next five
minutes. It was okay. She had full confidence that a
jury would side with her given all the information.

"We're glad you're both here. We wanted to talk to


you guys about everything." Sam opened the
conversation.

"We thought maybe we should end this whole thing."


Finn continued. "Karofsky can't just attack you like
that."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we're just really sorry about


everything."

"Really sorry." Finn echoed. The girls shared a glace.


This was unbelievable.
Quinn was the one to speak first. "Are the two of you
serious right now? It's been two months. Two months
of being slushied because newsflash this Karofsky
problem isn't new. You've left us alone for two months
because you're both too stupid to do anything else."

"Not to mention before you even protested our


scheme, you co-wrote a pornographic novel about us
and handed it off to Santana." Rachel added. "Really,
what could've you possibly thought she was going to
do with it?"

Both boys looked utterly confused. "What does


Santana have to do with any of this?" Finn asked.

"You gave it to her. She went to Jacob. It was


published." Quinn spoke methodically. "Have you
each forgotten this?"

"Puck gave it to Jacob." Sam told her.

"No, Santana did."

"Then one of them is lying."

"Well, trust me, it's not Santana."

"Look, Puck never said anything about giving it to


Santana. He said he gave it to Jacob." Finn informed.
Quinn snapped her attention to the taller of the two.
"Well that's much better. What does it matter who
gave it to Jewfro?"

He frowned. "It doesn't. You just made it seem like it


did."

"I don't even care. I'm done with this conversation."


Quinn walked past all three of them. Sam looked
upset while Finn just shifted his focus to the only
reason he was there.

"Rachel, can we maybe-"

"Finn, I can't talk right now." She told him quickly


before chasing after Quinn. She caught up and
grabbed onto her elbow. "Quinn."

"I'm sorry, Rachel." She pulled her arm out of


Rachel's grasp. "I'll see you later."

Rachel stood still, watching her leave. This was


terrible. Finn and Sam had just given Quinn her
reason. Oh, they would definitely be slow and painful
murders.

January 31, 2011

Quinn had been relatively normal on Friday which had


surprised Rachel. She was sure Quinn was going to
avoid her throughout the day but she hadn't. She still
sat next to her in English and glee and at lunch. She
had still driven Rachel home after school. But that
was it. There had been no hand holding or contact of
any kind really. There was no attempt at continuing
their morning conversation. (There also was no
mention of Finn or Sam, but she was fine with that.)
Even over the weekend there was no avoidance.
They hadn't spent any time together as Quinn claimed
she was busy. Rachel was giving her the benefit of
doubt, however, since Quinn had made it a point to
text her several times over the last two days. No, in
Rachel's opinion everything was fine. At least until this
morning. Quinn had not showed up to glee's Monday
morning meeting nor had she attended her cheerios
practice according to Brittany. This was unacceptable.

Rachel wandered the halls, looking for her cheerio.


She wasn't going to jump to any conclusions. Quinn
may have contracted a cold over the weekend. They
did have rather low temperatures over the past two
days. Quinn might need soup. Rachel could bring her
soup. That would be a task well worth missing class
for. She wasn't one to condone unexcused absences
(obviously), but she'd be willing to make exception in
this instance. It was Quinn.

"What are you doing?" Quinn followed after what


appeared to be a spy-mode Rachel.

She jumped around. "Quinn, you're okay." Quinn


frowned so Rachel pulled out an elaboration. "You
weren't in glee this morning."

"Yeah, I just didn't feel too good this morning when I


woke up. I wasn't sure I was going to come in today."

"Well, I'm glad you were feeling up to it. I'd like to


talk."

"You should get that on a stamp."

Rachel was not amused. "Quinn."

"Alright, what would you like to talk about?"

"The weather."

"Is that sarcasm I hear?"

"Yes, you've infected me with it." Rachel grinned but


then went serious. "I thought we could maybe talk
about us. In light of recent events, we should work
through everything."

Quinn shrugged. "Okay. I think it's simple."

"Simple?"

"We don't have to do this anymore. Finn and Sam


finally confessed."

Rachel really wanted to scream at her. She wasn't


even giving a strong or impassioned counter
argument which was completely out of character for
Quinn. She loved winning arguments with Rachel. It
was actually absurd how far out of her way she went
to start them in the first place. "Quinn, why are you
doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything."

Rachel rolled her eyes. She was impossible. "Okay


fine. Then you should be aware that I plan on
repairing my relationship with Finn."

"I don't care what you do with Finn. Or anyone else for
that matter."

Absolutely, utterly, indisputably impossible. "I believe


I've changed my mind. I don't want to talk to you right
now." Rachel told her casually before heading to her
first class of the day.

She should've stayed home. She knew this, and it


wasn't even like she had to play sick. Her mother had
agreed to her pitch for a mother-daughter bonding
day. But no. She had chosen to do the mature thing
and go to school rather than just put off her problems
for another day. Her mother was disappointed of
course, but they had agreed to do something this
weekend. So now she was stuck with the very real
notion that Rachel Berry was going to be the death of
her. Maturity sucked.
"Q!"

Quinn stopped her journey to class upon hearing Sue


Sylvester's voice. She slowly turned around to be
approached by her coach. Her angry coach which,
well, actually was just her coach. Great. Okay, that's
it. First thing tomorrow she was starting a petition for
the world to leave her alone.

Sue towered over her. "I looked around our cheerios


practice this morning because I sensed we were
lacking in perversion. Then it came to my attention
that my once valuable head cheerio was absent."

How many signatures would she need exactly?

Quinn encouraged herself to zone out the rest of it by


focusing on a Titans banner across the hall. There
was no purpose in listening to this. Miss Sylvester
was simply going to say something incredibly
intimidating until it's dissected and you realize that it
doesn't even make sense. The older women had that
look on her face. She was no doubt either making
reference to a beastly animal or a medical anomaly.
Frankly, Quinn just didn't care. She hadn't been head
cheerio for a long time now. What was the worst thing
Miss Sylvester could do? Kick her off the squad? Oh
no. God forbid that happens. Then her reputation
might suffer. She might become known as the ex-
head cheerleader who's in glee, had a baby, and is
completely enamored with Rachel Berry. Oh hey, wait
a minute…!

Quinn watched Sue storm off, most likely saying


something else. Undoubtedly a threat. Well at least
she wasn't kicked off the squad. (She knew this
because Miss Sylvester didn't try to rip away her
uniform using only her hands.) She's probably going
to have to do one hundred laps barefoot outside or
one hundreds pushups with Santana standing on her
or something equally nuts. At any rate, that'd make
tomorrow morning exciting because there was no
other way that could happen. Dull, dull, dull. That was
her life right now. She shook her head and walked
quickly to Physics. She arrived just after the bell and
luckily her teacher didn't make that big of a deal. She
was just told to take her seat which she did next to
Mercedes, in front of Finn and Mike.

Class started as boring as they all do. They were still


talking about sound waves or light waves or
something. The way Quinn's notes started was the
epitome of her day. The tip of her pencil broke on the
first word she recorded. A massive petition. Quinn
ignored the silly idea of getting up to sharpen her
pencil and instead just pulled out another from her
binder.

"So I'm thinking of asking Rachel out."

"Really?"
Quinn listened to Finn and Mike talk in hushed tones
behind her. She had never in her life disliked Finn
Hudson before. Sure, she'd been annoyed with him
several times, but would it be too much trouble for him
to choke on air right now?

"Are you hearing that?" Mercedes leaned over and


whispered.

"Unfortunately." Quinn muttered.

"And you're just going to let him plan a date with your
girlfriend?"

"Rachel's not my girlfriend."

Mercedes sat back, surprised. "You broke up?"

Quinn inhaled sharply. "No. We were never really


dating." There was no point in continuing the lie
anymore.

"Okay, now I'm confused."

"It's a long story, but Finn, Sam, and Puck were the
ones who wrote the book and we were just messing
with them." She paused. "Well, not Puck."

"Uh-huh."
Quinn narrowed her eyes at the sly grin on Mercedes'
face. "What uh-huh?"

"Nothing. It's just you're telling me that you've spent


the last two months pretending to date Rachel over a
book that everyone's forgotten about?"

"Yes." She answered weakly causing Mercedes to let


out a laugh. Quinn glared. "It's not funny. None of this
is funny."

"So then Finn and Rachel becoming a power couple


again really shouldn't bother you."

"No, it doesn't." Quinn denied and returned to her


notes. Then she was forced to hear more of Finn. He
was busy whining about Rachel's veganism which
Quinn would admit was kind of problematic, but Finn
can't say these things. He doesn't count for anything.
He was just a cloud; a big, stupid cloud.

"No, I can't. There's so many things Rachel can't eat."


Finn continued his complaints.

Quinn turned around in her seat. "Rachel's not vegan


anymore." She told him.

Finn looked across the table at her. "What?"

"I talked her out of being so weird so now she eats


anything." She further explained.
His face lit up. "So then I can take her anywhere?"

"Yes, and because her dads are so lenient, they even


allow her to eat ham."

Finn faced Mike. "Maybe I can take her to Denny's for


breakfast tomorrow."

Quinn smirked and turned back around.

"Doesn't bother you huh?" Mercedes chuckled again.

"Shut up." She tried really hard to ignore her friend's


laughter and went back to her notes. She got to
somewhere around the Doppler Effect when this
pencil broke too. She stared at it for a moment.
Seriously? No, no. Seriously! Quinn tossed her
unworkable pencil to the floor before placing her head
on the desk. Mercedes –who was still laughing by the
way– just reached over to pat her back.

Finn was going to get his girlfriend back. He wasn't


exactly sure how, but it was going to happen. They
never should have broken up to begin with. This
whole thing she was doing with Quinn was ridiculous.
Yeah, he helped write a dirty book about them, but he
didn't give it to Jacob. Puck did; well actually Santana
did, apparently. And yeah okay, he also lied about his
virginity which probably would have hurt their
relationship whether they were together when she
found out or not. So there were problems between
him and Rachel that needed to be fixed before they
could get back to where they were. And he planned
on starting today.

"Rachel." Finn approached her by her locker at the


end of the day.

She turned to face him. "Finn. Hello."

"Can I ask you something?" She nodded in response.


"Good because I know a lot's happened and we're not
together anymore, but I thought maybe we could try
being friends. And maybe we could get breakfast
tomorrow at Denny's. But only as friends."

"Oh." She frowned. "Finn, I'm not sure Denny's serves


anything that is suitable for my diet."

Now he frowned. "But Quinn said you weren't vegan


anymore."

"Quinn said." She shook her head. She looked mad.


He really hoped it wasn't at him. "When Finn? When
did Quinn say this?"

Finn didn't see how this was important, but answered


anyway. "In Physics when I was talking to Mike about
taking you out. As friends." He quickly added as if not
to scare her away.
"Right. Excuse me."

He still had a confused frown on his face as he


watched her walk away. Really, what just happened?

Her forehead was beginning to hurt. Quinn was


repeatedly bumping her head on her locker. She was
doing her homework on her bed one night, and as she
was chewing her gum, she accidentally bit down on
the inside of her cheek. Then, not two minutes later,
she bit the same spot. She was so pissed at herself
for doing it again that she threw her head against the
bed frame sending a sheering pain through it. Her
head hurt like hell, but she couldn't even fell where
she bit her cheek. She figured this locker-bashing
could result in the same distraction. So far, it was
working out pretty nicely. Over the last few days, her
emotions had been completely erratic. She had been
torn between crying hysterically, laughing
uncontrollably, and punching something. She hadn't
succumbed to any yet, but she was going to break
and it was going to happen. This was helping to
prevent it.

"What are you doing?" Sam approached the cheerio,


concerned by her actions.

"Ballet." Quinn snapped before pushing off the locker


and facing him. "Was there something that you
wanted?"
"I wanted to know if we could maybe talk." He offered.

"We are talking."

"Maybe without an attitude."

"Not possible."

"So you're just going to stay mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you. This-" She gestured to her locker.


"-has nothing to do with you."

"Oh." He lacked a response before he decided to just


bring up what he actually wanted to talk to her about.
"Look, I just really wanted to apologize for everything.
And not because I'm trying to win you back or
anything. I get that I'm not your favorite person right
now. But I also know that Finn is trying to reform a
friendship with Rachel, and I was wondering if you'd
maybe like to do the same."

"That's fine, Sam." She agreed though she was


completely indifferent to his existence at the moment.
She was counting on agreeing to get him to go away.

"Great." He smiled. Guess not. "So why are you


Black-Swaning it?"

"It's nothing."
"Okay, well as a new friend, if you ever wanted to talk
I can listen. So what's up?"

"It's just been a really long-"

"You're a liar." Rachel's voice broke into their


conversation.

"-day." Quinn sighed and spun around to face her


impending death or insanity. Ya know, whatever God
intended for her at the moment.

"If you don't care about what I do then why did you
sabotage my date with Finn?" Rachel folded her arms
for the challenge.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you actually wanted to go out


with Finn."

"That's not the point. You clearly didn't want me to


have a good time with him and I'd like to know why?"
Quinn remained silent. Rachel just exhaled. She had
nothing else she could do. It was like bargaining with
brick. "You know what? I'm sorry, Quinn. I shouldn't
have called you a liar. You're not. You're just a
coward."

The blondes watched her diva-storm away.

"Well at least she's Finn's problem again." Sam joked


but it fell on deaf ears.
"I've gotta go." Quinn followed Rachel's trail until she
was able to pull the shorter girl into the choir room.
"What is your problem?"

Rachel frowned. How was she the one with a


problem? "Is this some new form of humor that I'm not
yet familiar with?"

Quinn sighed. She hated this. There was no way to


avoid having this conversation. Neither one of them
could play dumb and say that everything that
happened over the last two months truly was just a
super-secret plan to destroy Sam and Finn. They both
had already acknowledged otherwise. She really
should've stayed home.

"What is so wrong about us just being friends?" Quinn


tried.

"Nothing, if you were presenting me with a legitimate


reason why you'd rather remain friends than
progressing into something else." Rachel stood ready
for her challenge. "Please just explain to me what this
is all about." She tried to start this conversation for the
third time.

"I couldn't go to Figgins." Was what Quinn delivered.

Rachel unfolded her arms. This wasn't what she had


been prepared for. "What?"
"Kurt -who's an actual friend of mine mind you- was
bullied from this school, and I could've got rid of his
bully but didn't."

"I don't see how anything that happened with


Karofsky factors into our relationship."

"Rachel, I can't change. I can't say nice things, and I


can't help but put myself first. I can't…I'm going to hurt
you."

"This would all be very noble if you weren't hurting me


now." She told her. "Quinn, I know you're not perfect.
Believe me, I've spent plenty of time trying to remind
myself of this fact only to fail. You've somehow
become flawless to me. Really, the best I can seem to
come up with is that you're not Jewish nor can your
beliefs be easily converted for future events. But I
would never try to do that because I don't want you to
change. I don't expect you to become a new person
who's entirely selfless and charitable."

"But I want you to. Rachel, I want you to expect those


type of things from me. You deserve someone who
can live up to those expectations."

The deserving rolled her eyes. "You're not a martyr,


Quinn. Don't try and become one now. In fact, you
just made claim to being selfish. That's completely
contradictory."
"Well, I'm not trying to be self-sacrificing. If you'd let
me I'm trying to do the right thing. Something I never
do." She snapped.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not


doing it now either. There's not a right thing or a
wrong thing here. There's simply a choice. One you're
refusing to make for whatever reasons you've
convinced yourself of." Rachel watched Quinn begin
staring at the piano. "I do not care that you are not
virtuous. I would just like to be your girlfriend."

Quinn looked back over at her. "You can't be mine,


Rachel."

"I've been yours for two months."

"But that was different. That was pretend. I'm very


good at pretending."

"Maybe a little too good. Come here." Rachel held out


her hand and patiently waited for Quinn to take it.
When she finally did, she pulled her closer until they
were mere breath-lengths apart. "We can do this for
real. Just shut your eyes, Quinn." Rachel sent her a
soft smile.

Her captivating eyes acquiesced, and she felt Rachel


bring one of her hands up to the nape of her neck.
"Quinn." Mr. Schuester entered through one of the
doorways. His lovely voice caused Quinn to break
contact. Rachel immediately added him to her
upcoming victims list. "We missed you this morning."
He continued.

"Yeah, sorry Mr. Schue. I just didn't feel too good


when I woke up." Quinn explained.

"Well take it easy."

"I'll try." She assured and left the room without sparing
a glance at either one of them.

Will turned his smiling face on to Rachel who was


contemplating weaponry. "Rachel, I'm glad you're
here. I wanted to talk to you about your mash-up idea.
Now, I know we all decided to save it for a later
assignment, but I really think-

"Mr. Schuester." She interrupted. "I'd like you to listen


closely to what I'm about to say all while
acknowledging who's saying it. I do not care about
mash-ups right now." Rachel glared at her puzzled
teacher before also leaving the room. She didn't get
far before she ran into Finn.

"Rachel." He greeted.

She groaned. Did these people not understand that


she only cared about speaking to one other person
right now?

"I wondered where you ran off to." He smiled. She


didn't have time to deal with him.

"Finn." She began before he had a chance to say


anything else. "If you would truly like to go out for
breakfast as friends then I think we can accomplish
that if we find a restaurant that compliments my diet.
We are New Directions' leads, and I think forming a
friendship would be useful. However, that's all I can
offer you. I have no desire to rekindle our romance. If
you paid any attention at all throughout the day you
would've realized that I clearly have feelings for
someone else. Ones that I can tell you with the
utmost certainty are not going anywhere anytime
soon. I'm sorry if this hurts you. Now if you'll excuse
me I must be getting home." She left Finn alone in a
hallway again, and mentally prepared for her walk
home. Thank goodness it was only a few blocks
away.

It was very easy to comprehend. If she ever wanted


anything to happen with Quinn she was going to have
to cause it to happen herself. This, like everything
else that has come with the blonde, was new to
Rachel. Normally, she'd be keen on allowing her
possible suitors to set the pace for their relationship
with her. Sure, she'd set her own manipulations to
hurry them up, but it was still in their control. That
method obviously wasn't going to work with Quinn.
So, for the most part, this was wholly in her hands.

She had ignored her homework and tried to come up


with several scenarios that would convince Quinn to
give this a chance. They were all workable of course.
She particularly enjoyed the ones that were directly
reminiscent to the classic cinema Quinn had
introduced her to. Rachel figured Quinn would
appreciate something old-fashioned and eloquent.
However, after giving it more thought, she understood
that she really didn't need to go that far. They simply
need to have an uninterrupted conversation. Besides,
giving a romantic declaration in Quinn's home when
her parents were probably home wasn't the best idea.

Rachel left her dad in the car after assuring him that
she'd only be about ten minutes. She walked up the
Fabrays' pathway and rand their doorbell. She waited
until the door opened and she was met with who was
most likely Quinn's mother.

"Can I help you?" The older woman asked her.

"Hello, I presume you're Mrs. Fabray. I'm Rachel


Berry. I'm a friend of Quinn's. I know that it's late, but I
really need to talk to her about glee. She missed
practice this morning."

"Oh of course. You're the singer." She smiled. "You


were great at your competition last year."
"Thank you. I've had extensive vocal training."

"Oh. Well come in." Judy invited her inside. She led
Rachel into the living room. "I'll go get Quinn." Judy
departed, leaving Rachel alone with who she was
assuming was Quinn's father. He lowered his book
and glanced at her from the chair he was sitting in.

"I'm Rachel Berry. I go to school with Quinn." She


introduced herself. "She missed glee today, and I've
come to give her the new assignment."

"Ah, then perhaps you can shed light on what glee


club is. Is it a prosperous activity to be involved in?"
He questioned.

"Oh yes." Rachel nodded. "Show choir is the perfect


pre-requisite for future college courses if you were
planning on going into the performing arts. I, myself,
plan on being a Tony Award winning actress. There
isn't a Broadway musical I couldn't get a role in."

"That's a very ambitious dream to have."

"It's not just a dream. It's a goal. One I've had since I
realized I could never actually be Fanny Brice. It may
seem impetuous, but I have all intention of making it
happen. I'm a firm believer that no goal is too high to
reach."

"That's a good line of thought to have. Quinn could


benefit from your influence."

"I think Quinn is doing fine without intervention. She's


very talented. Not to mention highly intelligent."

"Not always, unfortunately."

She tried really hard not to defend his own daughter


to him. She didn't see it going over well, but still
probably would've done it had Quinn not chose this
moment to finally arrive.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" She asked her.

"I just came to inform you of our new glee


assignment."

Quinn frowned but agreed anyway. "Okay, we can


talk upstairs."

"Now wait a minute." Russell interrupted their exit.


"We were having a conversation. Rachel here was
just telling me how she plans to be a successful
Broadway performer." He grinned. "I like people who
have great aspirations."

"Daddy, you're embarrassing her." Quinn pulled on


Rachel's sleeve to try and give her a hint.

"It was nice to meet you." Rachel politely told the


man.
"Come on." Quinn tugged again. She really didn't
need to witness Rachel have a conversation with her
father. Especially when she was probably going to
have a tiring one with the girl herself. Why else would
she be here?

Rachel followed Quinn through a hallway then up the


stairs then through another hallway until they reached
the blonde's room.

Quinn shut the door behind Rachel before taking a


seat on the end of her bed. "So is there really a new
glee assignment that I don't know about?"

Rachel played with her hands by the doorway. "That's


not why I came over here, but yes in fact there is.
Don't roll your eyes, Quinn. Regular glee assignments
are vital to the club's success." She dropped her
hands to her side. She didn't like being nervous
around Quinn. It didn't seem right anymore. She
stepped further into the room. "I miss you." She
laughed a little at the always lacking logic. "It's been
three days and I miss you."

"I'm right here." Quinn disputed, though the statement


was meaningless considering she wouldn't even look
at Rachel.

"No you're not. Not really." Rachel crossed the room


and sat down next to Quinn. Thankfully, this seemed
to gain her attention. "I don't hold expectations for you
because I have no need to. I already love what you
are. I either trust that you will do something or I know
that you won't. There's no point in thinking otherwise
because in case you didn't know this, you're quite the
stubborn person."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to who?"

"I'll agree that I also can be resistant in certain


situations. Which is why I imagine our relationship will
be rather difficult at times." Rachel covered Quinn's
mouth before anymore protests could leave it. "No, I
don't want to hear any more of your invalid
arguments."

Quinn talked through Rachel's hand. "Invalid? They're


not-"

"I understand that you have fears, and before I ask


you the question I came over here to ask you, I'd like
to address them." Rachel removed her hand. "If it's
about your reputation then I'd like to remind you that
the entire student body has been under the
impression that's we're already dating. We can keep
avoiding the slushie attacks, and if it's about your
parents they don't have to find out. Though I don't
necessarily agree with keeping secrets, I can when
asked. Please tell me if there's anything I'm leaving
out."
"Why do you even like me? I'm such a mess."

"Oh Quinn, no you're not."

"Yes I am. I really am. I'm just good at-"

"Pretending? Yes, we've already established that."


Rachel combed her fingers through Quinn's hair.

Quinn closed her eyes for a moment before


continuing her train of thought. "But I'm not a good
girlfriend, Rachel." She kept going before Rachel
could get a word in. "No, like, I'm really not. You saw
what I did to Finn, and I actually liked him. I mean I
wouldn't have dated him if he wasn't the quarterback,
but I did like him." She added as a second thought.
"Not to mention I was horrible to Puck even though
we were never technically a couple. And Sam, well
once again, if he wasn't good for my reputation then it
probably never would've happened. None of that's
good."

"And whatever gave you the indication that I excel in


relationships? I'm fairly impulsive when it comes to
them. I fell for both Jesse and Finn because their
voices proved that they'd be capable male leads. And
though my feelings for you developed over the past
two months, my interest was initially peaked because
of The Adventures of Rachel Cherry and Quinn
Fabrat. It was actually quite embarrassing how it
caused me to behave and think."
Quinn giggled. "What?"

"Yes, you were very fortunate to be smart enough not


to read it. It put some very graphic thoughts in my
head."

"Well, Santana did leave me a copy."

"And you didn't find it the least bit thought


consuming?"

"I didn't read it. I don't need a book to think about…


well…"

Rachel blushed. "Well neither do I. Just being around


you is enough to give way for…vibrant reactions."

Quinn groaned and bit her lip as she thought back to


all the moments they could have taken advantage of
this information; of all times Rachel wanted her.

Rachel reached over to swipe Quinn's lip from her


teeth. "You shouldn't do that." She advised. "Speaking
from personal experience, I can tell you that biting
your lip can result in increased purchases of
Chapstick."

Quinn sighed before placing a small kiss on the tip of


Rachel's thumb. She moved until she was sitting
perpendicular to the brunette; leaning in. "And what if
someone else was doing the biting?"

"Because you couldn't control their force," Rachel


swallowed as Quinn moved impossibly closer, "I
imagine you'd also have to invest in some Carmex."

"I could do that." Quinn closed the small distance


between them.

Rachel felt Quinn's lips slide against her and shifted in


her spot to make herself more accessible. Ideally,
their first kiss would take place in a more comfortable
position and there would be some type of background
music playing (preferably piano), but she wasn't about
to complain. She was finally getting to kiss Quinn.
Who, for the record, knew how to kiss. Really,
something that felt this good should be illegal. It was
arguably a drug. And like any drug worth its dealer's
fee, she was already addicted and wanted more.

Parting her lips slightly, Rachel moaned at the initial


feel of Quinn's tongue against her own. The tingles
sent throughout her body made her senses acutely
aware of just how long she's been deprived of this.
And it wasn't even like she knew what she was
missing. Evil, non-existent kisses. Where did they get
the nerve to mock her? The mockery stopped as all
thought seemed to stop when Quinn moved one of
her hands up into Rachel's hair. She pulled her closer
and kissed her deeper. This was so much better than
boy-kisses.
Rachel unwillingly released Quinn's lips but did not
back away. This didn't seem right. They were both
healthy singers. Weren't their lungs supposed to hold
more air? She was going to write a complaint about
this.

Quinn's thumb traced soft shapes onto Rachel's neck.


"So what did you want to ask me anyway?"

"It doesn't matter. I believe I've gotten my answer."


Rachel got up from the bed.

Quinn frowned as Rachel was no longer in touching


range. "Was it the wrong one?"

"Hardly. I just need to get going. My dad's waiting in


the car, and either one of your parents could walk in
at an inopportune moment."

"Oh. Well can I walk you out?"

She grinned and held out her hand for Quinn. "Yes."

"What's the assignment this time?" Quinn asked once


they got back into the hallway.

"Groups of four. We're doing something with '90s


rock." Rachel shook her head. This was not what she
wanted when she came up with the alternate
assignment. "The boys and Mr. Schue seem to be
really excited about this."

"Who's in my group?" She asked but received no


answer. Quinn stopped walking in order to pull them
to a halt. "Rachel."

Rachel slowly turned to face her. "Well there's Brittany


and Artie…and Santana."

"No really. Who's in my group?"

"It's not that bad." Rachel tried. Quinn didn't seem to


agree. "At least you don't have to work with Mike or
Lauren neither of whom can actually sing."

"I'll trade you them for Brittany and Santana."

"I don't think that's how it goes." Rachel tugged them


back into walking.

Quinn guided Rachel down the stairs and through the


rest of her house until they reached the door. Rachel
gave her hand a small squeeze as she left her house.
Quinn shut her door and leaned up against it. Her
smile refused to leave her face as she stared at her
socks. What a day.

"Quinn, did your friend leave?"

She looked up upon hearing her father's voice. Even


the fact that he was apparently never leaving again
wasn't going to ruin her happy mood.

"Yes, just now." She answered.

"You're to let her know she's welcome here any time.


She seemed to have her head screwed on straight."

Quinn laughed as he probably went back into their


living room. She highly doubted those would be his
same thoughts had he known what just took place
upstairs.

February 01, 2011

Rachel refrained from tapping her foot as Quinn tried


to find something in her locker. It was never going to
be found considering nothing was there to be found in
the first place.

"Quinn, we really must get to glee. I do not appreciate


being tardy. It allows Mr. Schuester to make his own
decisions."

"Well you'd be stalling too if you had to spend the


whole period working with Santana."

"Yes, but you'll also have Brittany and Artie."

Quinn shut her locker. "Which just makes it worse. If


Santana doesn't directly attack me then I'll have to
listen to her bicker with Artie."
"Come on." Rachel grabbed the cheerio's hand and
began to pull them to the choir room. "We need to tell
them all we're officially together anyways. I'm tired of
getting questioning looks form them. It's been
happening all day. You think they'd be smarter. Our
relationship isn't that hard to decipher."

"You have met everyone in glee right?"

"Quinn, insulting your teammates is not going to help


the cause for unity. Even if you do have some
semblance of a point." She added as they arrived in
front of those very teammates.

"Ah, there you are." Mr. Schue greeted them before


taking their seats. "Now we can get started. So what
do you guys remember about the '90s?" He asked the
group.

"See, I told you they were holding hands again."


Brittany leaned over and noted to Santana.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

The blonde ignored her and focused back on what


caught her attention in the first place. "So are you
back together now? Mike said you broke up."

"Yes Brittany." Rachel nodded. "I am pleased to


inform you that Quinn and I are officially dating."
"What were you before?" Artie questioned.

"They weren't really dating." Tina related what


Mercedes told her yesterday.

"No. Way." Santana spoke dryly.

"They were just trying to get back at Finn and Sam for
the whole book of porn thing." Mercedes continued to
explain to Artie.

"So wait." Finn interrupted. "Quinn is the someone


else?" He asked Rachel.

"Yes Finn."

Sam frowned. "But you're both straight. And you were


just messing with us."

Puck smirked. "Man, I guess we never should've


wrote that book." He earned two glares form his co-
authors.

"Noah, though I appreciate the fact that you've


flustered Sam, Quinn and I aren't together because of
your book. I believe we would've ended up here
regardless of the reason why we were forced to get to
know each other." Rachel sent Quinn one of her
smiles.
"Yeah, I still don't believe you're dating." Santana told
them.

Quinn turned to face her. "And I still don't believe it's


just sex for you with Brittany."

"At least I don't wanna screw Berry."

"Okay." Will jumped in with a nervous chuckle. None


of them really need to play witness to another
Quinn/Santana fight. "That's enough of that. I think
we'll start with 1999 and move backwards."

February 25, 2011

Things didn't calm down or change that much at all in


the entire month of February. Things were pretty
much the same as they were before Rachel and
Quinn "officially" announced their relationship. Sam
sulked for a while before he got over it, and true to his
word remained friends with Quinn. The only two
gleeks who appeared to have any problem at all were
Finn and Santana. Finn still seemed to be confused
by the concept that Rachel no longer wanted to be his
girlfriend. Though she wasn't worried, Quinn was
getting increasingly tired of his failed attempts to
"woo" Rachel. As far as Santana went, well, Brittany
found out that she was still sleeping with Puck. They
fought and now Santana was back to being a
complete bitch to the world.
There were others outside of glee that still didn't take
kindly to their relationship. Sue was still insane, Jacob
was still a pest, and Karofsky still went after them for
whatever reason. However, one threat about going to
Figgins and he'd leave them alone until they had to do
it all over again of course. On the home front, Leonard
Berry was finally warming up to Quinn. Barely. This
was all according to Rachel, and Quinn suspected
she was being less than truthful. It was odd really
considering her own father approved of her
"friendship" with Rachel. He honestly seemed to like
her, and he never liked anyone she brought over.

Still, they weren't being careless because of this.


There was no way Quinn's parents were ever going to
be privy to what Rachel really was to her. They were
being extra cautious. They had to because hands and
keeping them off of each other was an issue.
Honestly, no one should've given them this much
freedom. Kissing Rachel, being able to touch Rachel
never got old; and it happened daily. Quinn had never
experienced these types of feelings before. The only
time she could remember coming close was the night
she spent with Puck, and really that was a fragment
compared to what she felt when she was with Rachel.
She would never say any of this to her out loud
though. A gloating Rachel Berry still hasn't proven to
be fun.

"I propose you wear a tie every day." Rachel said


breathlessly before pulling Quinn in for another kiss
by the tie she got stuck wearing today. It was part of
glee's outfit of the day. They were going for some
private school look and came out looking like
Hogwarts rejects. No one was pleased. And Rachel,
of course, was offended by the club's comments as it
was close to what she normally wore anyway.

"I don't think Miss Sylvester would approve of that


proposal."

"Perhaps if we got one to match the colors of your


uniform." Rachel yanked Quinn into her bedroom. It's
amazing she hasn't choked yet.

"Okay, I don't think I approve of that proposal." Quinn


tried to remove Rachel's grip but failed. Instead, she
was being tugged forward until she was pressed
against her girlfriend. She still didn't understand why
Rachel got so excited about making out against a
wall, but who was she to deny her? "You've been
using it to pull me wherever you want since we put on
these ridiculous outfits."

"Hence the proposal."

"But it's not very fair."

"I'm the shorter one. I'm already at a disadvantage.


It's entirely fair."

"That's Berry logical."


"You must think you're funny." Rachel smiled. She
loved playful-Quinn.

Quinn smirked. "Only sometimes."

Rachel released Quinn's tie in order to grip her waist.


She pulled her closer until the blonde had no choice
but rest her forehead onto Rachel's. "Quinn, spend
the night." Her words faded against Quinn's mouth.
The blonde stepped back to give her a questioning
glance. Rachel straightened up. "I wasn't suggesting
anything. Not that I don't ever think about the
possibility. I was simply offering for you to sleep over.
Besides, even if I was my dads will be home from
work in few hours."

Quinn, however, was stuck on one thing. "You think


about spending the night together?"

"Well yes, don't you? I know we've only technically


been together for a few weeks, but in reality it's
actually been a few months. I don't think it's all that an
aggressive train of thought to have. A little surprising
maybe since I never planned on having sex until I was
at more proper age, but it's different with you." She
paused. "Everything's different with you."

Quinn could concur with that. She was crazy about


this girl. This same girl who used to make her
stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. Just like she
did now, but for much different reasons. How could
this not all be brand new? "Rachel, I want to spend
the night."

"Is that a double entendre?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Rachel searched Quinn's eyes to see if there were


any remnants of playful-Quinn. There wasn't. She
wasn't sure how Quinn could seriously ask her this.
Quinn knows that she's wanted this for quite some
time now. Of course, then again, the book merely
spurred a fantasy. Today was very much real. This
was actually happening, and strangely enough, she
really didn't want it to be up against a wall.

She brought her lips to Quinn's and led them both


over to her bed without breaking contact. Quinn
lowered them onto the mattress, almost
unconsciously at this point. They kissed deeply as
they each encouraged the other to go further. Their
breathing became labored, and their thoughts
became uncluttered as they realized the extent of
what was about to take place. Rachel broke away and
sat up a bit.

Quinn smiled softly up at her. "Hi."

"Hi." She repeated before loosening and taking off the


now pestering tie.
She didn't stop there as she undid Quinn's top button
on her school girl blouse. She got to around the third
before Quinn's hands halted her. Rachel sent her
gaze back up to Quinn's. The blonde suddenly looked
nervous. "Hey." Rachel calmed quietly. "No one says
we have to do this today."

Quinn shook her head slightly. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing." Quinn leaned back up; Rachel pulled


away.

"Are you ever going to learn how to not do that?"


Quinn tossed her head backward onto the bed with a
sigh. Rachel playfully poked her in the side to get an
answer out of her. "Quinn."

"It's just…I have stretchmarks. From the pregnancy.


And they won't go away." Rachel frowned. Was this
really all what she was concerned about? "They're
hideous." She added and Rachel giggled. "You find
this amusing?"

"Yes, actually. Clearly you've never been in front of a


mirror." She giggled again causing Quinn to blush.
"Besides, even if they were -as you put it- hideous,
they're proof that you created a life." Rachel smiled
until Quinn looked away from her. "Sorry. I know
you're not comfortable talking about Beth. It'd be okay
though; if you ever were."

"Rachel, I can't. I can't talk about the baby."

"You're going to have to sometime."

Quinn looked back at her, incredulous. "And you want


to try now of all times?"

"Though now is not the ideal moment, it's quite


intimate. And since it's a private conversation, now
could work if-"

Rachel's always alive words were cut off when Quinn


unexpectedly flipped them over.

"We're not having this conversation right now." Quinn


told her firmly.

Rachel sighed. "I just worry about you is all."

"I know. You're probably the only one that does." She
was more than aware of this by now, and she needed
it. She needed someone to care enough to be
worried. And she really wanted that person to remain
being the girl beneath her.

Quinn took her time to remind herself of this as she


leaned down to nibble and then suck on Rachel's full
lips. She moaned as Rachel grasped onto her
shoulders and pulled her down until there was
absolutely now space left between them. She settled
herself between Rachel's legs and took over the
declothing aspect. This time it was her hands that did
the unbuttoning. She got the shirt completely open,
and felt muscles twitch beneath her hand as she
traced over Rachel's stomach. She trailed her hand
higher causing them both to involuntarily shudder as
she made contact with a bra.

Rachel arched into the hand cupping her breast. The


friction this caused in other places resulted in an
almost painful throb to settle between her thighs.
Based on the sounds coming from Quinn, she knew
she wasn't alone on this fact. Rachel really wanted
more, and luckily Quinn seemed to know this. The
blonde's hand traveled south and stationed itself
achingly close to the throbbing area. Quinn pulled
back only a few inches to lock eyes with her; silently
making sure this was really what Rachel wanted to
do. When it was clear that it was, she lowered her
other hand and hooked into Rachel's panties before
dragging them down. Once off, Quinn reclaimed her
position above Rachel. She returned her hand to
where it was and felt the heat radiating off on her. The
heat she created.

Rachel gasped Quinn's name as she touched her


where she wanted to be. Quinn's mouth latched onto
Rachel's neck as her fingertips easily slid up and
down Rachel's folds. Rachel gripped onto Quinn
tighter as Quinn's delicate fingers pressed against her
clit. She moved with her, and Quinn was somewhat
amazed by this reaction considering she actually
didn't have a clue what she was doing. She liked that
Rachel was enjoying herself because really, this
could've gone horribly wrong. She moved on to do
what (thankfully) continued to come seemingly
naturally and slipped one of her fingers inside of
Rachel.

Another moan was released upon this action and


Quinn began to set a pace. She slid in and out of
Rachel in what she hoped where perfect strokes.
Rachel cleared away her doubts as she pushed
against her. Their movements began to quicken and
Quinn easily slid a second digit inside of her. She
abandoned kissing Rachel's neck to look at her face.
For reasons she really didn't want to go into, she
needed to see Rachel let go. When she finally did,
kamikaze butterflies attacked Quinn's body in several
different locations. She really never pictured herself
getting over Rachel Berry.

She allowed Rachel's breathing to equalize before


speaking. "So what time did you say your dads will be
home?"

Rachel glanced over at the digital clock on her


bedside table. "Oh, only about two and a half hours."
She looked back up at Quinn. "Any ideas on how we
should spend that time?"
"A few." Quinn smirked before reconnecting her lips to
Rachel's.

END

A/N: Thanks for being consistently patient readers. I


apologize that this whole thing took a lot longer I
originally anticipated. But yay on the fact that it's
finally over.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers


and creators.

A/N: Yeah, I have no idea where this came from. And


I'm not sure I'm happy with it, but evidently I had to
get it out of the way before I could work on the next
chapter of 'The Choice I Make' in peace. Hope you
like, and I'm off to work. ;)

Better

Everyone visits. People I know. People I just barely


remember. I don't say hello, and I know it's rude, but I
don't care anymore. Because maybe—just maybe—if
I don't speak, if I don't acknowledge it, life will stand
still. Because this white-walled purgatory is ten times
better than the hell that awaits if I do.

Dad hardly leaves my side. He talks to me, cries with


me—I try my hardest not to, but when I see him
break, it's real and I can't seem to stop, and I'm
almost grateful when he leaves me during visitor's
hours. Almost.

As soon as the people come I wish he was back, that


he would stay so they wouldn't come. I can't stand the
way they look at me. I can't stand it when they talk, or
when they don't. I want them to leave, but the stream
is never-ending. Teachers come offering
condolences. People from school come to shove their
hands in their pockets and stare at me, like that will
somehow make up for the years of school when they
weren't there, didn't notice, didn't care. Jacob Ben
Israel comes to weep.

Glee club comes. All of them at once. I thought at first


I'd be grateful to see them, but they're worse than
anyone.

Mr. Schuester won't stop looking at me with big, sad


eyes when he brings them all in, and saying how
sorry they all are. Tina and Mercedes won't stop
crying. The rest of them won't stop staring. Staring,
always staring. I can't take seeing all of them at once,
seeing them all pitying me, so I turn my head because
I can't roll over, and eventually they leave.

They come in twos or alone now. Mr. Schuester's


visits are short. He doesn't know what to say now that
I give him a chance to speak.
Mike and Matt only come once. They put on a puppet
show, try to make me laugh. I sob. They don't come
back.

Noah makes it worse when he comes, and he seems


to know, because he doesn't come often. When he
does, all he can do is apologize over and over until
either I or he can't take it anymore. Then he leaves.

Artie doesn't know what to say when they come, so


he doesn't say anything. He stares while Tina holds
my hand. I let her because she acts like she'll cry if I
don't, and I can't take that. The contact makes it
worse. Things feel real, and I don't want it. So I let her
hold it as long as I can take it, and then I pull away
and wait until they're gone to sob into my pillow,
because feeling reality makes me do that.

Mercedes can't stop crying when she sees me. She


has to leave the room minutes after coming in
because seeing me breaks her. Kurt stays longer. He
tells me all the celebrity gossip, like nothing has
changed. Only it has, because his voice is softer
when he tells me, and he didn't used to have to tell
me. We used to discuss it, argue about it. My voice is
missing from the conversation, and we both feel it. He
leaves when he's finished, telling me it'll get better
eventually. I want to throw something at him.

Brittany brings me stuffed animals every time they


come. I don't take them, so she sets them by my hand
and I feel the fake fur on my skin and it makes tears
run down my cheeks. I'm grateful when the nurse
comes and puts them on the window sill. Santana
brings nothing, but she comes. They sit and stare at
me. I don't look at them. Brittany doesn't know what to
say, so she just talks. Santana has run out of insults
now. They leave when Brittany can't think of anything
more to say.

Finn is the worst. I hate him when he comes, and he


comes every day. He brings me flowers that only the
nurses appreciate. He talks about his father, but how
it's not the same. He says he's sorry. He begs me to
speak to him. He asks me questions. He sings once,
but I scream and the nurse comes and he doesn't
sing anymore. But he still comes. And I want him to
leave.

Quinn comes. Every day. I don't know why. I'm


curious, but I don't ask, because I don't care enough.
She comes, she's there, and that's that. She doesn't
speak, either. The only thing she says is 'Hello,' when
she comes in. Then she sits in the chair next to my
bed and looks at me, and tears are in her eyes, but
she won't cry like Mercedes. Her hand is always on
the mattress, but she won't touch me like Tina. Her
silence isn't uncomfortable, uncertain, like Santana
and Artie and Noah's. She just looks at me, and that's
all she seems to want.

So I let her. Sometimes I stare back. Sometimes I


look out the window.

Today I'm upset because Finn was here before her. I


scowl at her.

"Hello," she says.

I look out the window, and I hear her scoot the chair
next to the bed, see her hand move to the sheet. Her
hand almost touches mine today.

I can't see the tops of the buildings out my window. I


can only see the blue sky; the happy clouds float
across it. I hate them. I wish it would rain.

My neck starts to hurt from looking out the window. I


look at Quinn. She sighs, and I know she has to
leave, because that's the sound she always makes
when it's time. It's heavy. It's the noise I would make if
I made a noise. I expect her to get up and walk out.
She doesn't. I wait.

Then she touches me. It's startling and I pull away


reflexively. There's hurt in her eyes and I'm sorry. She
is, too. She leaves.

Dad comes back, and he's crying all over again. My


heart aches for him, but I say nothing as he sobs into
my hand. My hand that still feels Quinn's fingers.

XXXXXX
Quinn comes at her exact time again. I'm relieved.
Too much so to wonder why.

"Hello," she says.

Finn visited earlier today, so my scowl is less so when


I look at her. She sits, and I decide today I want to
stare back. She locks our gazes and reaches
deliberately for my hand, giving me ample time to
move away. She doesn't want to startle me today. I
don't move, and her hand is warm on mine. It's real. It
hurts.

While she's touching me, everything happened. I


remember it and I'm in pain and I want to cry, but I
won't. Not in front of her.

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying. I stare at the


ceiling, because looking at her with her hand on mine
is too much. Too much all at once.

The time ticks by. Tears leak out of the corners of my


eyes. I try to control myself. I'm relieved when she
sighs. She lets go slowly and she leaves, and I sob
into the silence.

Dad cries with me when he comes back, and we hold


each other.

XXXXXX
Quinn takes my hand again, and it hurts just as much
as yesterday. There's a stuffed cat sitting on my lap
from Brittany. That hurts, too.

I cry before she leaves this time. The soft whimpers


escape me before I can stop them, and then I'm
weeping and she is, too, but quieter than me. Her
hand squeezes tighter around mine, but she doesn't
do anything else.

I hear her sigh and part of me is grateful. The other


part doesn't want her to go. They argue.

Both parts go silent when she kisses the back of my


hand.

When she leaves, part of me is glad, because I hate


crying in front of her. The other part wants her to
come back, because her company is more bearable
than anyone else's. But now there's a third part. It
wants to know why she did that.

XXXXXX

When Quinn comes in today, I stare at her and don't


stop.

She says, "Hello," and stares back.

She fumbles for the chair because she won't break


eye contact with me. When she's sitting, she takes my
hand again. I watch her. The pain is bad. My sobs are
quieter today. Her tears match mine, but she makes
no noise.

When she sighs, I echo it. It makes her stare, and her
lips move, but she says nothing. She turns my hand
over and kisses my palm and leaves.

I wonder what she'll kiss tomorrow.

XXXXXX

Finn won't leave. It's Quinn's turn and he hasn't gone


yet. I want Quinn. I want to scream at him. He's
talking.

"Rach, please...please just talk to me," he says, and


there are tears in his voice. "I know you're hurting, but
you can talk to me about it. It'll make you feel better, I
promise."

Nothing makes me feel better, I want to say. But I


don't. I glare at him.

"Ms. Pillsbury said you might be trying to blame


yourself. But you've got to believe me—it wasn't your
fault."

I scream. Finn flinches. I sob. He tries to touch me. I


throw my pillow at him, even though it hurts to sit up,
hurts to throw.

"What did you do?"

Quinn's voice is sharp, cuts through the fog of pain.


I'm relieved to see her. She's angry.

"I was just trying to make her feel better!" Finn


exclaims, defending himself. "I just told her it wasn't
her fault and—"

I wail, wishing he would stop saying that. Stop talking


about it, because it didn't happen. Quinn is yelling at
him and a nurse comes in and tries to touch me, calm
me down, but I shove her away. She tells Finn he has
to leave and he does, dejectedly.

Then she tries to make Quinn leave. I cry louder and I


know I'm breaking my own rule, but I whimper, "No."

They both stare at me. The nurse gives in, but I know
it's only because it's the first word I've spoken since I
got here. As soon as she's gone, Quinn comes over
and sits on the bed this time—a first—and wraps her
arms around me—another first—and I sob into her
shoulder and she rocks me and pets my hair and
says, "Hello," and then she whispers my name over
and over in her soft voice and we've made a new
record of firsts, because it's not 'Man Hands' or 'Berry'
that she calls me, but 'Rachel' and God help me, it
helps to hear her say it.
When Dad comes in, I'm not even crying anymore.
I've run out of tears, but I won't let go of Quinn and
she hasn't let go of me and I wonder why it's Quinn
I'm latching onto when it could be anyone else,
because they've all offered their hands. But the only
one I'll take is Quinn's and I still don't know why.

I decide it doesn't matter when Dad pries me loose.


I'm too exhausted to put up a fight. I do fight to stay
awake—so I can feel Quinn's kiss. I hear Dad thank
her. She tells him not to.

She's kissed both sides of my hands, wrists,


forearms, and arms by now, and I want to know what
she'll do next. If she'll start over. If she'll kiss
something new. I struggle to open my eyes when I
realize they've closed.

I feel a pillow tucked under my head. A kiss is


pressed to my forehead. I try to open my eyes, and
the attempt gives me a glimpse of blonde hair. I fall
asleep.

XXXXXX

I'm home. It doesn't feel like home. I treat it like the


hospital. I crawl into bed and I don't leave.

Finn doesn't visit anymore. Some of glee still does.


Mr. Schuester does when he can. Ms. Pillsbury
occasionally does now. I expect her presence to be
annoying, but she only tells me I can talk if I want to. I
like that.

Mike and Matt visit with flowers. Noah does once, the
day after I'm back home. He apologizes, pats my
shoulder, and then he's gone.

Tina brings a card from Artie. She still holds my hand


when she visits. I only let her for so long, because it's
Quinn's hand and Tina is only borrowing it. She
doesn't seem as tearful now, but she still tells me how
sorry she is.

Mercedes doesn't cry every time now, either. She still


has to leave the room sometimes, but now she brings
me chocolate and candy and things. I give them to
Dad, to make her think I ate them. I can tell it cheers
her up, and I feel a little better. Kurt is getting
impatient with me. He tries not to show it, but I can
see he wants a response. I won't give it to him. I don't
roll over, to make up for it, when they come.

Brittany still brings me stuffed animals. I line them up


on an unused shelf. It cheers her up to see they're still
there when she comes. She brings me a stuffed duck
today. It's so Brittany I almost cry, and instead I put
my hand on it when she puts it next to me. She gets
so excited she does cry, and Santana smiles. She
talks to me now. Tells me the weather report. It's lame
and we both know it, but she's trying. And I appreciate
it.

Quinn still comes every day. She stays for longer now
that the hospital visiting hours don't restrict her. She
still holds my hand and she's kissed both of my
cheeks now. She kissed the tip of my nose yesterday.
I look forward to seeing what she'll do every day.

Today she's late. I get impatient and I worry that she


won't come. I want her. Every time I think it, I feel like
a toddler being deprived of its favorite toy. And I don't
care. I want Quinn.

When she finally comes, I want to scold her for


making me worry, and it startles me, because it
sounds like something I used to do when life was real.

She says, "Hello."

She goes to get my chair. I watch her and wonder


why she's late. I don't want it to happen again. I fear
she'll come later and later. And, worse, stop coming
altogether. I'm so scared of this I break my own rule.
My voice cracks from lack of use, and it's quieter than
I remember. But it's enough.

"Hi."

Quinn freezes. She stares at me. I stare back. She


opens her mouth, but it closes again. I can see she
doesn't want to push me. I'm grateful when she sits
and takes my hand.

She kisses my chin when she has to leave.

XXXXXX

Today is another day of firsts. Quinn comes in on


time, and she smiles. I don't smile back, but I like it. I
like seeing it on her face, the way it changes it. I don't
know how to tell her this without words.

"Hello," she says.

"Hi," I say back, as I have been.

Dad drops his laundry in the hall. Quinn rushes to


help him and I sit up to do the same, but I'm weak and
Dad steers Quinn back in.

"Do that again," he orders, and he's shaking with his


excitement.

Quinn looks bewildered. Dad gestures to me and she


seems to get it. She looks shocked, like she didn't
know she's the only one I speak to.

"Hello," she repeats, looking at me.

Dad will cry if I don't say it. I know he will. So I croak it


out.
"Hi."

He cries anyway, but it's happy, because he's


laughing at the same time and hugging Quinn, who's
laughing too now, and then he's hugging me. He
makes us do it at least ten times over before he lets
us have our time alone—but not before telling Quinn
to stay for dinner. She agrees, even though it wasn't a
request.

When he leaves, Quinn walks over to my shelves,


and I wait for her to grab her chair. Instead, she pulls
a movie from the shelf and puts it in my dusty TV. She
blows on it and dust flies up, making her cough. She
wipes her mouth and comes back to the bed, remote
in hand. But she doesn't grab the chair.

She gets onto the bed next to me, on top of the


blankets, and she takes my hand in hers. I stare at
her. She looks at the screen, and eventually I do, too.
I don't know what the movie is, because the only thing
I'm focusing on is Quinn's fingers threaded through
mine.

When the movie ends, Dad coaxes me out of bed for


dinner, reminding me I need to eat. Quinn looks
shocked again, but she doesn't say anything. We eat
dinner together and they talk and I can tell Dad loves
Quinn. I also know what he's thinking, because you
don't live with a person seventeen years without
recognizing what they're thinking sometimes. He
thinks Quinn is the best thing for me.

And I can't really disagree.

XXXXXX

We run out of movies on my shelf. Movies that aren't


musicals, anyway. I know there are many more, but
Quinn doesn't put in movies with singing in them. I
wonder how she knows, but I don't ask.

She brings movies now. I haven't seen some. She


makes me come downstairs to watch some of them,
and I know she's trying to keep me mobile. I don't
mind. She eats popcorn during her favorites, and
holds my hand as always.

Today she doesn't have a movie in hand, but she still


smiles like she has every day since that first day, like
she knows I like it.

"Hello."

"Hi."

I want to ask where the movie is, but she walks over
to the shelf. I wait for a repeat showing, but then she
holds up 'My Fair Lady.' I feel sick. I shake my head,
but she's already turned to put it in. She lays down
next to me and holds my hand. I want to cover my
ears.
No more singing. Even if I speak, I never want to sing
again. Not without him. Not after what happened. I
can't. I want nothing to do with it.

But it's inevitable. The music starts and then the


singing and I rip my hand away from Quinn's and sob
into the pillow and hold my hands over my ears, and
I'm crying so loud I don't hear it when she stops it. I
only feel the bed shifting and then she's holding me
from behind, kissing my cheek and ear and temple
and hair and whispering my name—and that she's
sorry.

I fall asleep crying, and when I wake, it's dark and I


know she's gone home.

And I miss her.

XXXXXX

Quinn waits. She doesn't show me another musical


for a long time, and by then Finn is visiting again. I
don't hate him when he comes anymore, but I don't let
him touch me like he tries to. I listen to him tell me
about how his summer is going and now I nod to
acknowledge people, which delights my friends,
especially Brittany. He's hurt that I don't talk to him. I
don't talk to anyone except Dad and Quinn, though,
and only to say 'hi.' He'll have to get used to it.
Finn leaves when Quinn comes in and I say hi to her.
He's upset.

Quinn kisses my cheek. I'm surprised. She doesn't


kiss unless she's about to leave. I worry that that's
what this means—that she's leaving me—but she
walks to the shelf, picks up 'The Music Man,' shows it
to me. She waits. I wait.

I feel less sick this time. I sigh and slowly nod. She
puts it in, lays next to me, tucks her arm beneath my
shoulders to hold me. I'm surprised again. She
doesn't touch other than to hold my hand unless I cry.
I sink into it anyway, rest my head on her shoulder.
She doesn't move away.

The first song starts. I remember the words like a


distant memory. I cry silently into Quinn's shoulder,
she rubs my arm. By the end, I've run out of tears and
it's time for dinner.

Quinn stops me at the door. I meet her gaze and


wonder what she's thinking. She doesn't speak, nor
smile, and before I know what I'm doing, I've kissed
her cheek and I'm walking down the hallway. It
shouldn't seem like such a big deal, since she's
kissed me what feels like hundreds of times by now,
but it is, and we both know it.

And Quinn is smiling at me through dinner.


XXXXXX

We've watched almost all the musicals in my


collection when she pulls out 'My Fair Lady' again. I
don't feel so horrible when I see it this time. I don't cry
when we watch them anymore, but she still looks at
me to see if it's all right. I always nod now, because it
isn't so bad hearing the singing, even if I never sing
again.

I can't remember what Quinn's voice sounds like, and


that's all I'm thinking about as we watch, her shoulder
acting as my pillow again. I know it's pretty, but that's
the extent of my memory. I wish Mr. Schuester had
given her more solos, so I could remember.

Quinn smiles at me when the credits start. She looks


surprised to find me watching her. I don't want to
break my rule any more than I already have, but
there's no other way I can think of to get what I want.
So I say it. Whisper it, actually.

"Sing?"

Quinn's brow arches, like she doesn't quite get what I


mean. I sigh, knowing I need to add more and not
wanting to.

"Please?"

It makes more sense to her now. She considers me,


and I think she's going to refuse. But then she
acquiesces, very quietly, like she's trying to lull me to
sleep. It's so beautiful I almost cry, and my eyelids
droop after a while, but I refuse to let them close
because I want to see her. I'm fighting a losing battle,
though, and I feel her kiss my brow when I realize I've
half-dozed off.

I open my eyes, not wanting her to leave, but she


hasn't moved.

I smile at her.

XXXXXX

I make Quinn sing to me every day. But it evens out,


because she makes me ask every day, even though
she knows I want her to. I'm almost bouncing by the
end of 'The Sound of Music,' wanting to hear her. She
smirks at me when the credits roll. I don't hesitate.

"Sing, please," I say quietly.

She pauses, thinking. I wait impatiently. Then she


begins, softly.

"You're not alone, together we stand, I'll be by your


side, you know I'll take your hand..."

She waits. So do I, and I tug at her hand to prompt


her to go on.
"It's a duet," she says. "It's your turn."

I feel sick again. I shake my head. She's pushing me,


and she knows it.

"It's our song," she continues stubbornly.

I shake it harder, until I realize what she said. I


remember now. Remember suggesting it to Mr.
Schuester, singing it to a tearful Quinn in harmony
with Finn, and for once thinking only of her. As I
should've been all along. That's why it was 'our' song.

I sigh, and it's shaky. Quinn squeezes her arm around


me encouragingly. I take a breath. First I'm just
speaking the words that were once Finn's, like my
voice doesn't remember how to sing. But when our
voices join for the chorus, I hit a note and I start
shaking uncontrollably as I remember.

It hurts—bad. Quinn presses our foreheads together,


still singing even though I've stopped, and I'm crying
harder than I've ever cried and I cling to her, seeking
refuge from the horrible ache in my chest and the
vicious memory replaying over and over in my mind.

Of us singing together. Him driving. Me taking the


third verse. Him laughing. And the screech of tires.

XXXXXX
It's dark when I wake up again. I bite back a sob. It
really happened. I want Quinn.

That's when I hear a second set of breaths from


behind me. I roll over and my heart leaps as I realize
it is Quinn. She hasn't left me. She's under the
blankets with me and I curl into her heat, almost
gasping at the feeling of the length of her body
against mine.

I bury my face in her shoulder and let myself cry. I


know she's awake when I feel her arms wrap around
me and our foreheads press together again. She
holds me and I sob, and I talk. More than I have since
it happened.

"He's gone," I whimper over and over, and she


squeezes me and I tell her I don't want it to be real
and I don't know what else I say because it's so
jumbled and mixed with my tears, but she doesn't
speak, only listens, and I don't know what I would do
without her. The irony of that doesn't hit me until later,
and I still don't care.

I'm still crying, but I've fallen silent and I know she's
still there, but I want to hear her, so I whisper,
"Quinn?"

She kisses me. For real, this time. And I freeze


because I'm startled and it's new for us and I don't
know if she missed her real target in the darkness or if
she's really kissing me. I feel miserable at the thought
of the former, but she keeps kissing me, tasting my
lips. I'm about to try kissing back when she pulls
away.

I can't see much, but the moonlight casts enough light


for me to see that Quinn's eyes are sparkling. It takes
me a minute to realize it's with tears.

"Quinn," I say again, but she's already easing away,


and I try to run after her, I do. But even though she
and Dad have been getting me up and about and the
only time I'm really laying in bed these days is when
Quinn and I watch a movie, it's not the same as when
I used my elliptical every day, and she's been getting
rid of pregnancy fat while I've been loafing around.

I don't catch her.

XXXXXX

I want Daddy. I want Dad. I want Quinn.

I can't have any of them. Daddy's gone. Every time I


think it I sob, and I want to murder that drunken driver
myself. And then sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just
want to lie there and miss him and wish it had been
me.

Dad had to go back to work. I don't think it's fair that it


has to be this soon. I miss him.

Quinn has been absent for two days. I stay in bed


missing her, missing them, wishing I were dead.

No one comes by today. Mike and Matt hardly did in


the first place. Noah came a week ago. Tina and Artie
were already there a few days ago with Mercedes and
Kurt. And Brittany and Santana came yesterday with
another stuffed duck. Finn only comes when he 'has
time.' I don't expect him often.

I lay in bed, pulling the covers over my head when the


sun starts to shine on me. I hate it. I wish it would
rain. I miss Daddy. And Dad. And Quinn.

I have no more tears. I'm completely dried up. I want


to hit something, and I want to scream, and I want to
hear Quinn sing to me. The door creaks. There's
silence, and my hope dies as I realize it was just the
wind. Except it wasn't.

"Hello."

I slowly pull the covers down, squinting at the sun.


Quinn watches me, looking weary and wary and sad.

"Hi," I say.

I want her to come closer, but I don't want to scare


her.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

I blink. "Why?"

She's silent so long I think she won't answer.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, firmer this time, like that will
make me get it.

"I missed you," I blurt.

She nods, looking ashamed, and now she won't meet


my eyes. I push aside the covers, dragging myself off
the mattress, and Quinn doesn't realize I'm coming
toward her until I'm almost right under her nose. Then
she looks surprised and starts to move out of the way,
like she thinks I'm going to kick her out.

I stop her, holding her in place, and lean up to press a


chaste kiss to her lips. She doesn't respond, and I
know she's in shock when I lower myself to my heels
and she stares.

"Quinn, I would like you to think back to two nights


ago. If you recall, my reaction was much the same as
yours is presently," I say, and I'm surprised at how
strong my voice is. "I'm confident you will realize my
point without further aid on my end."

There's silence. It's the most 'me' thing I've said since
the accident, and we both know it. My voice is
superior and bossy, and the only thing missing is a
command, but it's taken all my energy just to muster
those three sentences. And I'm nervous about what
Quinn will do next, if she'll react to my words the way
she would've a few months ago or not.

She grins. She cups my neck with her hands and


showers my face with endless kisses and she's crying
and laughing at once and I finally realize what her
kisses mean, and have meant this whole time.

I'm here, I love you.

XXXXXX

School starts soon. I'm not sure I'm ready. Quinn tells
me we'll get me ready. We start with a meal outside
the house. Lunch with glee.

Everyone greets me happily. The girls hug me, except


for Santana. Santana smiles. The sun is making me
squint, but I see it, and I smile nervously back. The
boys vary. Mike and Matt say hello, Kurt smiles, Noah
hugs me. Finn hugs me, too, but he kisses the top of
my head. I scurry back to Quinn and Finn apologizes.
I tell him it's okay, and he feels better.

Quinn is nervous in public. Protecting me is more


important, though, so when she sees I'm almost
crying, she tries to let go of it and holds me. The
second time she stiffens as the second person walks
by, I go to the bathroom.

When I come back, everyone is solemn again. I sit


next to Brittany and she chatters and the mood lifts. I
feel better. Mike and Matt tentatively joke and I smile
and they get so excited the couple at another booth
shushes them. Noah touches me—puts his hand on
my shoulder, wraps his arm around me briefly—all
short contact to let me know he's there. I get the
message and I touch back to let him know. Quinn is
jealous.

Tina and Mercedes aren't crying now, and Kurt isn't


impatient, and Artie isn't uncertain, and Brittany is
happy. They all clamor around me and talk about glee
and what they've been doing all summer and I listen
avidly and I feel like I'll be okay.

Santana takes care of my trash for me and I smile at


her. It's weird for us, but she awkwardly smiles back
and I talk to Finn, and he's not upset anymore. We
feel like friends again. I like it. He confides that he
likes living with Kurt, that the boy is neater than him
and it's strangely nice having to pick up after himself. I
would tease him, but I'm draining fast now. Quinn
sees it.

She drives me home and I take off my shoes and


collapse into bed. I feel her lay next to me, but I don't
look.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

Her hand rubs my side up and down, and I feel her


kiss the hair on my neck.

I'm tired. Too tired for this conversation. But I ask


reluctantly, "For what?"

"I'm sorry," she repeats. Like I should get it now. She


breathes during the pause, and then her words come
out harsh. "You didn't have to sit away from me."

She's jealous again, jealous of Brittany. It makes me


want to laugh, but I don't.

"I was giving you space," I sigh. I want to sleep, but


she's not done.

"I don't want space."

"You need it."

"No, I don't."

Her voice is sharp. I'm making her angry, but I know


she's more angry with herself than with me. I shake
my head, curl tighter around myself, wish Daddy was
here to tell me what to say to her. He always knew the
perfect thing to say. I want to cry.
"Yes, you do. You're not ready," I whisper. "And I
understand, Quinn. It's okay."

It's not my old eloquence, but I'm too tired to muster


much more than that. My eyelids droop. Quinn is
silent, and her voice is soft when she speaks again.

"I want to be ready."

"I know." I yawn. "So do I."

She wraps herself around me and takes my hand and


I feel her kiss as close to my mouth as she can get
before I fall asleep.

XXXXXX

It's my first outing without Quinn. I'm terrified, but


Brittany keeps her hand firmly around mine as we
walk and it makes me feel marginally better. Santana
is on my other side, guarding me from all the people
milling around the mall while Kurt and Mercedes
bound ahead. I know it's silly, but I start to think of the
Cheerios as my guardians. The irony hits me right
away this time.

Kurt picks out an argyle sweater for Mercedes to try


on and I laugh for the first time since the accident. It
startles me just as much as them, and I'm crying by
the time I'm finished and Brittany is hugging me and I
hear Mercedes ask if they should call Quinn. Which
sets me laughing again.

They're trying so hard to make me feel better it's


almost painful. And just hearing someone ask if they
should call Quinn Fabray to make Rachel Berry feel
better is beyond painfully funny.

Santana gets it. Gets why I'm laughing, and she grins
and then we're both laughing and the other two are
staring at us like we've grown extra heads while
Brittany just smiles and pats me.

I wipe my eyes when I'm done and I smile at Santana


and she smiles back.

"All right, what did we miss?" Kurt asks, folding his


arms.

Santana rolls her eyes, musses his hair. "Don't worry


about it, Vitalis."

His scowl makes me giggle and the Cheerios lead me


away.

We meet Quinn for dinner at Breadstix. Brittany tells


her I laughed, and I can see happiness war with
jealousy on her face. She still hasn't decided by the
end of dinner, so when she takes me home, I bring
her under the covers with me and hold her and press
my lips to her ear and sing as softly as I'm capable of.
She shudders and sighs and then she starts kissing
me all over, like she just can't contain herself. I tell her
I didn't know my voice affected her like this. She
orders me to sing in reply, so I do, and I giggle until
she peels off my shirt and keeps kissing, her mouth
open now. She moves to my other side just so she
can kiss my back like she did my stomach as I keep
singing.

I'm overheated now, but she isn't satisfied until she's


covered every inch of my exposed skin. She moves
back to my chest and when she kisses the top swell
of my breast, just at the edge of my bra, I gasp and
tug her back up to eye level.

"Quinn," I pant.

Her eyes burn into mine. "I love you."

My heart constricts and I can't stop a sob from


escaping. She caresses me, kisses me, and I
whimper.

"I can't," I weep.

"It's okay," she assures me, but I see the hurt in her
eyes. She doesn't understand.

"I feel so guilty," I confess, my voice a whisper.

She freezes. "Why?" I only cry, so she starts kissing


my face, murmuring, "Tell me, baby. Talk to me."

"I don't deserve you," I say, and then sob harder. "You
make me happy and it's wrong because he's gone
and I don't deserve it."

I think that's what I say, anyway. I'm not sure because


I'm crying and my thoughts are jumbled again. It
doesn't matter, because Quinn is hugging me hard,
like she never wants to let go, and all I can think is
that I shouldn't be lying here in Quinn's arms after
singing to her and having her kiss me and tell me she
loves me. I should be in a hospital bed, speaking to
no one and staring at the white walls. I should be
dead.

I go there in my head—to the room where people visit


in an endless stream and I ignore them, only Quinn
doesn't come and say hello and make me feel.
Instead I lie there and I'm empty and nothing matters
and nothing's real. I sink into it, embrace it, until I'm
ripped out.

It's sudden and I'm angry that I've been pulled away
from where I belong. I'm still angry when I see that it's
Quinn who's ripped me out, hands on my face and
holding me hard. Her eyes are filled with tears, but
she looks angry, too, almost frenzied. I'm about to tell
her to just leave me—I want to rot—but she speaks
first, and her voice is harsh and thick with tears.
"Rachel, listen to me. You are the most deserving of
happiness of anyone I've ever met." Her hands are
shaking and it makes me shake. "Your father wanted
you to be happy. He wanted your dreams to come
true, to see you take Broadway, and you will." I start
to shake my head. "You will. Because I want you to
and your dad wants you to, and your daddy still does.
And, most importantly, because you still want to. I
know you do. And you deserve it, and I'm not going to
let you think otherwise."

She kisses me fiercely and I whimper into it and then


she holds me and keeps telling me that I deserve it,
and I cry and tell her I love her over and over, and
each time she kisses me and I feel a little better with
each touch.

XXXXXX

I'm still not completely ready. Not completely better.


Neither is Quinn.

Her nerves are obvious when she comes to my locker


in her brand new Cheerios uniform. I feel too
overwhelmed by the all the people to think much
about her nervousness.

But no one with a slushie comes my way. No one in a


varsity jacket or a Cheerios uniform or an
Abercrombie and Fitch shirt laughs at me or shoves
me into my locker. It's still overwhelming, but that
makes it better.

Brittany and Santana appear, and Quinn anxiously


takes my hand as we walk down the hallway together.
Santana guards the side Quinn isn't on, and I smile at
her. She smiles back.

I know someone has seen our hands, because Quinn


stiffens. The person disappears and she relaxes. I
wait for her to stiffen again, preparing to take my hand
away, because I don't want her to be uncomfortable.
But she grabs my hand harder when I start to tug it
away, and people continue to notice and ignore it,
because even though this is Lima, Ohio, we have our
fair share of freaks, and the people who don't think of
it that way don't care.

Santana is looking at Quinn like she thinks she's the


biggest idiot she's ever seen. Brittany distracts her
and we all walk into the choir room together and sit
together, too. Mr. Schuester greets us cheerfully and
starts talking about what songs we'll be working on.
Quinn kisses my cheek to get my attention. I smile
bravely and she mouths 'I love you.' My smile grows
and I mouth that I love her, too.

She gives me the brightest smile then and it reminds


me of Daddy's happiest grin and my heart aches for
just a second. But then I remember what Quinn said
—that he wants me to be happy, that I deserve it.
That it wasn't my fault. And it wasn't.
And as we start to sing, I'm singing for him, and I'm
with my friends, and Quinn is holding my hand. And I
think we'll be okay.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers


and creators. (And it's not really sponsored by Jack
Daniels. I just made that up for humor value, I
promise.)

A/N: Sigh. Don't ask…I don't even know.

Last Night: Sponsored by Jack Daniels

"Why is it that you put your two cents in, but you only
get a penny for your thoughts? What happens to the
other cent?"

Santana groaned and thudded her forehead against


the table.

"And what if an atheist goes to court? They can't


swear on the Bible, can they? And what about us
Jewish people? Do we use a Torah instead?"

Puck sighed as the cheerleader next to him slowly


lifted her head, glowering at him. He knew exactly
what she was thinking. This was the worst idea ever.

"And what happens if you get a paper cut on a Get


Well Soon card?"
Had they honestly thought getting Berry drunk would
make any difference whatsoever? He could only
conclude that they had, since she was drunk. But still
talking. Nonstop.

"What about if you find a four-leaf clover under a


ladder? Oh! Or what if a black cat walks under a
ladder and breaks a mirror?"

Finn had fallen asleep long ago, and he was presently


sprawled out on the floor next to Puck's chair, snoring.
He always had been a lightweight when it came to his
alcohol. Lucky bastard.

"Can you actually read a picture book? Wouldn't you


have to 'view' it?"

Brittany was also snoozing with her head in her arms.


In her case, however, it had more to do with a hard
Cheerios practice and Santana wearing her out than
with her ability to hold her alcohol. Lucky bitch.

"And why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?


It sticks everywhere else once you squirt it out."

Puck was relieved to hear something that wasn't a


question. Sort of. Mostly he just wanted to throw his
tequila bottle at her. He took another long swig,
hoping it would help him pass out sooner.
"Okay, here's one: if Winnie the Pooh was
sophisticated enough to put his honey in jars…why
did he always eat it off his hands? Did he not have
spoons?"

Santana had given up on the beer a long time ago


and broke into Puck's mom's liquor cabinet for the
whisky. She had a hard enough time putting up with
Rachel on a regular basis without the aid of alcohol.
But this? This called for the big guns.

"And what about Donald Duck? He wears a shirt, but


no pants. What is up with that?"

The only person in the room who seemed completely


unfazed by it, while still conscious, was Quinn. Who
he didn't really think was listening anyway. She was
actually just looking at Rachel's hand a lot, turning it
from side to side and examining it. She always was a
little overly friendly when she was drunk.

"And what if you have a cold Hot Pocket? Is it just a


pocket then?"

And while Quinn was the only one unfazed by


Rachel's rambling, Rachel was completely unfazed by
the hand-examination. She just kept gesturing with
her free hand as though nothing was happening.
Which was Puck's proof that she was definitely,
definitely drunk.
"How old exactly do you have to be before they can
say you died of old age?"

It had started out as a joke, really. They'd all gotten


smashed over the weekend and Rachel was lecturing
them about coming to glee with hangovers. Santana
—rightly—said she wouldn't get it, and Rachel had, of
course, gotten offended and said she'd had alcohol
before. Puck—rightly—replied that it probably wasn't
enough to get her truly drunk. And Brittany
commented that she probably didn't even know what
'type' of drunk she was.

"Why did Sally sell seashells on the seashore? That


doesn't seem very profitable. You could just pick them
up off the beach for free."

Trust Rachel to be able to do a tongue-twister when


wasted. Puck sighed.

"Since we have angel food cake and angel hair, does


heaven have people food cake and people hair?"

Rachel hadn't even known what a 'drunk type' was.


Puck explained he was a horny drunk—which
Santana remarked didn't make much of a difference,
and Rachel readily agreed, but asked them to
elaborate. So they had.

"If you pamper a cow, do you get spoiled milk?"


Santana was a goofy drunk; Brittany was a catatonic
drunk; Quinn was a friendly drunk; Finn was a cranky
turned conked drunk. They'd had to explain the last
part to Rachel, too. And then Finn had jokingly dared
her to get drunk with them this weekend. And after
Quinn said she wouldn't have the guts, Rachel
promptly decided to take it as a challenge. Puck had
secretly hoped she would be a horny drunk, but no
such luck.

"If the Wicked Witch of the West melts in water, how


did she bathe? Or was it just that one bucket of
water? In which case, why would she keep it at her
castle in such a random spot? Why didn't she just
pour it out? Why did she have water at the castle at
all?"

"Nope. Not man hands," Quinn said suddenly, setting


Rachel's hand ceremoniously on the table.

Brittany jerked awake and Santana exchanged a


disturbed glance with Puck. Finn was still snoring.

"Thank you, Quinn. Why do people refer to being


happy or in love as 'head over heels'? Isn't that how
we are already?"

"Wha'd I miss?" Brittany asked with a yawn.

"About a million more questions," Santana groaned,


banging her head on the table again.
"And if you knew the levee was dry, why would you
drive there?"

"And we're out of beer," Puck added, proffering his


tequila bottle.

The blonde took it gratefully and proceeded to sit


there, stroking one hand through Santana's hair while
the other occasionally tilted the bottle back to her
mouth.

"Why isn't 'palindrome' spelled the same way


backwards? And for that matter, why isn't 'phonetic'
spelled the way it sounds? And why is 'abbreviate'
such a long word?"

The three conscious but un-entranced exchanged


wide-eyed glances. They barely knew those words
when they were sober.

Now that her hand-examination was over, Quinn had


taken to leaning on her elbow on the table and staring
at Rachel.

"Why is the alphabet in that order? Is it because of the


song, do you think?"

Santana sighed and Puck took a drink of the whisky.


It really was a time for strong liquor. And it was the
only thing keeping them from dumping Berry in an
alley somewhere.

"And why is it that when two things almost crash into


one another it's called a 'near miss'? Shouldn't it be—
be a 'near hit'?"

At that brief hitch, Santana's head popped up and


Puck glanced over, too. They had hope that she
would stop talking, but then she resumed as though
nothing had happened—though something had.
Quinn was now examining Rachel's neck with her
hands. Puck glanced at Santana, whose brow
furrowed so far he was briefly afraid she would get
stuck that way.

"Why do we say our alarm clock is—is 'going off'


when it's really—really coming on?"

Rachel shot furtive glances at the blonde to her right,


who remained unaware of anything but her
inspection. She was brushing Rachel's hair to the side
for a better view, running her fingers—very lightly,
from the looks of it—over the skin of her throat and
neck.

"What's a hacky? And why is—why is it in a sack?


Who put—put it there?"

Puck looked to Santana again. Quinn was always


extremely friendly when she was drunk, but usually
she just wanted to cuddle or something. It might be
time to intervene. But now they had a slight dilemma.
On the one hand, Quinn was their friend and they
should stop her from doing things she wouldn't enjoy
remembering when she woke up. On the other, why
did they have to babysit her?

"If a singer sings—um…sings their own song during


karaoke, is it still…is it still karaoke?"

And on a completely different hand, Quinn was


actually making Rachel pause. Which was such a
relief to Puck's ears he couldn't bring himself to stop
her. Plus, girl-on-girl was just plain hot, even if they
weren't doing anything.

"Wh-why is 'Joey' short for—for 'Joe'? 'Joey' h-has


more…um…letters."

Santana sat up in alarm when Quinn started smelling


Rachel's hair. Puck grinned lazily until she glared at
him. Brittany didn't seem concerned by this at all, but
then…she was fine with the things they did when they
were drunk when she was the only sober one. But if
things were actually going the direction it looked like
they were going…well, they would have to stop Quinn
before she did something she really didn't want to do.
Damn it.

"Why is there a—a toll on—on freeways?"

Santana reached across the table, snaring Quinn's


elbow, and tugged on it. The blonde swatted her
away.

"Q, you need to stop now," she slurred.

Her face was still buried in Rachel's hair and neck, so


the response was muffled, but it was definitely: "Uh-
uh."

"Why…why do people squint when…when they're


trying to see something better? Doesn't that…um…
make it harder?"

Santana tugged again. "Q, seriously."

"Mm-mm."

That was another thing about Drunk Quinn. Her


sentences were reduced to three words or less, and
the words in them were usually only one syllable. It
kind of made Puck think of a two-year-old girl. With
pigtails.

"Um…would a…would a fly without wings be called


a…a 'walk'?"

Brittany snorted, and Puck couldn't help a little smile,


too. If she kept asking questions like that, it wouldn't
be so bad. Quinn was still shoving Santana's hand off,
and Rachel had completely given up on gesturing.
Now she was just sitting very still in her chair, still
talking—but almost like she didn't know she still was.

"Q, really. You're not gonna like this in the morning,"


Santana drawled, shaking her head.

"Good smell," Quinn protested vehemently.

"Why's a partially open door 'ajar', but a partially open


jar isn't 'adoor'?"

"Puck, you try," Santana grumbled, plopping in her


chair.

Brittany stroked her arm. Puck sighed. He didn't know


if he could get up without falling over. He set down the
whisky bottle slowly, easing himself onto his feet and
carefully avoiding hitting the table on his groin. He
wobbled for a second, nudging Finn with his foot, then
leaned over and tapped Quinn, who pushed him off
again.

"Quinn," he tried.

"No. I like," she purred, petting Rachel's hair.

If Puck wasn't mistaken, Rachel's already flushed


cheeks went a little redder.

"Why…why do, um, 'flammable' and 'inflammable'


mean the same thing?"
"Quinn, er, you…stop." Puck had no idea when his
lips had gotten so hard to move. "Like now."

She lifted her head for the first time since she'd
started, and she pinned Puck with a steely glare. Or
at least, that's what the two of her looked like they
were doing. He blinked and shook his head.

"Get your own," Quinn growled. "This one's mine."

Yep, Rachel's cheeks were definitely redder than


before. Quinn went back to hair-smelling, and Puck
dropped back into his chair. The world was pretty
dizzy for a moment, and he was afraid he'd have to
run for the bathroom, but everything settled, and that's
when he noticed Santana and Brittany had
abandoned him. He huffed.

"When…when does the alcohol take effect? I feel


fine," Rachel asked suddenly—only this time it was
actually directed at someone—and Puck scoffed.

"Try standing up," he mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Oh."

"I want a kiss," Quinn said then. Only she was so


wasted it came out, "I wan'akiss."

Puck's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at Rachel,


who blinked at Quinn several times—either she was
processing, or she had the double-vision thing, too.

"Mmkay," she mumbled, and Puck's eyebrows


climbed even higher. "Hold still."

Puck decided it was the double-vision thing, because


Rachel turned in her chair and held Quinn's shoulders
for a few moments, as though trying to steady herself.
Then she leaned forward and clumsily pressed her
lips to Quinn's, though it was a bit off the actual mark.

Quinn didn't seem to mind. Her hands were still


tangled in Rachel's hair, and she pressed back into
the kiss with gusto. She wasn't as tight with her
tongue as Berry, Puck noted, because she swiped it
sloppily along Rachel's lips and then what started out
as awkward lip-bumping turned into a full-blown
makeout session.

They moaned into each other's mouths and started


tugging at clothes, and before Puck could fully
process what was happening, Quinn had yanked
Rachel into her lap so she was straddling her and she
was slipping her hands under her shirt and Rachel
was rubbing against her, and even though the blonde
soon half-carried, half-dragged Rachel to another
room, Puck grinned.

Because there were two drunken lesbian couples


having sex in his house, and Quinn had managed to
find a way to shut Rachel up.
And then Puck had his own question, which made him
groan.

Why hadn't he thought of that first?

--------------**********---------

Rachel was a planner. She had, at minimum, a day


plan, a weekend plan, and a life plan at all times. She
had once even attempted to get her boyfriend to
coordinate his plans with hers by means of an
adorable kitten calendar, and when that plan had
failed miserably, she thought maybe she'd have to
question everything she knew about her life. She
didn't, of course, but she considered it. Briefly.

But that was then, and this was now, and now, she
was sitting next to that boyfriend in the choir room,
noting how freakishly large his fingers were. And his
fingernails were kind of dirty. She cringed a little and
looked four chairs over, where Quinn was sitting with
Sam, looking positively bored. Sam was beaming at
her as she picked her nails and nodded halfheartedly
with a furrowed brow.

If Finn messed with Rachel's plans, then Quinn threw


them out the window, turned the car around, and ran
over them twice just for good measure. Usually she
didn't complain, but sometimes it made her want to
scream. (Admittedly, she probably had screamed a
minimum of seven times, but that was not in
frustration. Well, once it was.)

She glanced back at Finn's hand, which was currently


residing on her knee; she rolled her eyes and gently
removed it, returning her gaze to Quinn and Sam. At
that moment, Quinn caught her glance and
straightened in her seat. When she took her bottom
lip between her teeth and raised her left eyebrow (it
was always the left, she noted), Rachel crossed her
legs and waited. She knew what was coming next.
She looked away.

Like clockwork, a minute later, she heard the faint


buzzing of the cell phone stashed away in her bag. It
was Quinn, just like it usually was on Thursdays
approximately two minutes before Mr. Schuester
rushed into the choir room mumbling apologies and
various (bullshit) excuses about his tardiness.

It's bridge night.

Rachel returned her gaze to the blonde cheerleader,


who was still looking at her, now in mild amusement.
Quinn smiled a wide, genuine smile and went back to
(pretending she was) listening to Sam. The furrowed
brow returned.

Rachel responded to the text before putting her phone


away. She wouldn't need it again. All she had said
was It is. There would be no reply. That's all they ever
said.

Mr. Schuester entered the room, mumbling a bunch of


things that Rachel loosely translated to mean "I was
creeping on Miss Pillsbury." She rolled her eyes,
heaved a sigh, and tuned out. Rachel Barbra Berry
was tuning out in glee club. Perhaps a wrench was
thrown into her plans before they were sucked out of
a car window and run over (twice).

Glee club adjourned and she gave Finn the briefest


possible kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder
before retreating to her car. Her fathers knew better
than to expect her, and they hardly cared, because
they were just over the moon that Rachel had a
"friend."

By her estimations, this had been occurring for


approximately twenty-two weeks.

Before the first week, there were three consecutive


Thursdays of Rachel sitting on Quinn's bedroom floor
under the guise of working on costumes and
arrangements for glee club. The first of those, Rachel
had been shocked to find that Quinn seemed to
actually enjoy her company. The second of those,
Quinn not only admitted as much, but revealed that
she wouldn't mind making Thursday nights a "thing."
The third Thursday, Quinn kissed her, then
hyperventilated, then kissed her again.
After that, things were different. The amount of time
Quinn spent not only acknowledging Rachel's
existence but also actually talking to her in public had
increased exponentially. She sought her out in
hallways, stood at her locker with her (when Sam
wasn't around), and had fetched her emergency
slushie bag twice before ordering a cease-fire with
threat of death. They never spoke directly of bridge
nights (entitled as such due to the fact that Quinn's
mother was gone to play bridge with her friends each
Thursday).

In private, Quinn never said a word. That was easy to


brush off in the beginning; by now, it was maddening.

The first time, Quinn had a fistful of Rachel's sweater


in her hand and their lips smashed together before
the front door had even closed. By the time she left,
Rachel felt certain that she had every millimeter of
Quinn's mouth, neck, and ear memorized. Rachel
said bye when she left; Quinn just waved.

The second time, she discovered that Quinn's motto


of "under the shirt, over the bra" had returned. She left
with one hickey and the sounds of heavy breathing
ringing in her ears. Quinn waved.

The third time, it was emphasized that she clearly still


regarded "teasing, not pleasing" as rule number one.
The fourth time, "under the shirt, over the bra" was
history. Right next to talking, evidently.

The fifth time, Rachel completely gave up on


attempting to get Quinn to say a word to her (or,
really, make a sound of any sort) in that house. She
considered it a victory of epic proportions when Quinn
breathed "wow" after she had her first orgasm. She
left feeling quite proud of herself but kind
of...frustrated, that not a single article of clothing had
been removed.

The sixth time, Rachel had planned on withholding


her lips (and all other body parts, for that matter) until
Quinn had a talk with her. The plan was out the
window by the time she walked through the front door
and Quinn had her pressed against it with her thigh
placed firmly between her legs.

The seventh time, the plan for Rachel to wait until the
age of twenty-five to have sex went out the window.
She didn't complain (and, of course, Quinn said
nothing either).

She kind of lost track of the weeks after that, but


every week her amazement that Quinn could have
sheet-soaking orgasms without making a single
sound grew exponentially. In fact, were it not for said
sheet-soaking and the frequent scratches in her back
(thank goodness it wasn't summer), she'd probably
think she was doing something wrong.
As she pulled up in Quinn's driveway this time,
something felt out of the ordinary. Maybe it was that
Quinn had discreetly mentioned on Tuesday that her
mother was traveling for work and not actually playing
bridge this time, and she wouldn't have to rush out
promptly at nine o'clock; maybe it was simply that she
was excessively horny today (ever since these
evenings had become expected, they tended to
dominate her thoughts, particularly for the duration of
the day on Thursdays). She guessed it didn't really
matter and walked into the house.

She closed the front door and wasn't shoved into it.
That was different. In fact, she made it all the way up
to Quinn's bedroom without so much as catching sight
of the blonde. Rachel rolled her eyes; could she really
plan nothing? The bedroom door was slightly ajar and
she nudged it open. She heard the shower running
and worried her bottom lip between her teeth,
considering her options.

"You coming?" Quinn's voice called from the


bathroom.

Yup, today was definitely different. She couldn't


remember the last time she'd heard Quinn's voice
within these walls. She moved into the bathroom and
undressed silently.

When she slid the shower curtain open and caught


sight of Quinn standing there, her mouth went dry.
She stepped into the shower, barely able to get the
curtain shut before their bodies were pressed
together. Quinn's lips attacked Rachel's in a manner
that had only grown increasingly fervent as their
(relationship? affair? who knew?)...Thursday ritual
went on; the tentative hesitancy of their kisses was
long gone and replaced by heated passion and
urgency.

As Rachel grabbed a fistful of long hair, she was


pulled under the hot water. Quinn's mouth left hers
and traveled to her ear, her tongue sneaking out to
dance around its rim.

Too quickly, Quinn had stepped back and turned


away, reaching for something. Rachel took in her form
appreciatively until she straightened, body wash in
hand. She spread a bit into her hands and set the
bottle down, placing her hands on the brunette's
shoulders. Slowly, she began washing Rachel's entire
body, making sure to take extra time on each breast
and between her legs. After removing the shower
head from its holder and rinsing away the soap, she
wordlessly handed the bottle of soap over.

While Quinn took her time with the process, Rachel


simply lacked the patience for such a task. Hurriedly,
she completed the process, but not without taking a
moment to allow her fingers to linger where she really
wanted them to be. She stepped around to grab the
shower head and rinse away the suds that she was
currently viewing as a serious obstacle. After
returning the showerhead to its holder, she guided
Quinn back against the shower wall, covering the
taller girl's body with her own.

Quinn lowered her head to connect their lips, but


Rachel nudged it to the side and instead attached her
lips to Quinn's neck, kissing and sucking a trail from
just below her ear down to her collarbone before
moving her attentions to her breasts. Her tongue drew
lazy circles around one nipple while she kneaded the
other breast with her hand. With a gentle nip of her
teeth, she moved her attentions to the other side,
repeating the same process before trailing kisses
down Quinn's stomach and settling her mouth on her
hip bone.

As she moved onto her knees on the shower floor,


she trailed her fingers up the long legs in front of her
until she reached her destination between those legs
she happened to be appreciating far more than usual
in her current position. She lightly dragged the tip of
her left index finger around her dripping (in more ways
than one) center as her mouth moved away from
Quinn's hip and ever closer to joining her finger.
Quinn moaned in anticipation, and Rachel raised her
eyebrows in surprise.

Once her tongue took over teasing duty from her


fingers, Rachel couldn't keep up her agonizingly slow
pace. She dove in, eagerly lapping up the hot
wetness that had been building, pressing hard on her
clit with each stroke of her tongue. Quinn shook a little
at the sudden contact and her head softly thudded
against the wall; Rachel wondered if she was going to
be able to remain standing as this went on.

She didn't wonder for long, however, as she was


pulled to a standing position by her arm as the other
girl turned off the water, which had just begun to run
lukewarm. Quinn moved her grip to her wrist, leading
her out of the shower and into the attached bedroom
with haste, not bothering to retrieve towels. She threw
the pillows and comforter aside haphazardly, falling
onto the mattress and pulling Rachel with her.

Any other time, Rachel thought fleetingly, she'd


probably be freezing; the brief moment between
opening the shower curtain and getting wrapped in a
towel was usually quite miserable, but right now? She
couldn't recall feeling so hot all over. Quinn rolled on
top of her, pressing their centers together with
conviction and drawing a low growl of pleasure from
each of them. Her movements were matched and
they fell into a rhythm, urgently rocking together.

The ache building between Rachel's legs was so


intense she felt she might explode, and though she
was thoroughly enjoying their current position, she
needed more. Swiftly, she rolled them over, moving to
straddle Quinn's thigh in the process. She pressed
two fingers inside of her, and Quinn let out a deep
moan (which Rachel noted as approximately the third
sound of the evening). She continued pumping in and
out with vigor, her thumb moving up to graze her clit
with each movement.

Abruptly, Rachel found herself forced into a sitting


position, Quinn now seated opposite her. She thrust
her fingers back inside the blonde, and felt two fingers
enter her simultaneously. She cried out in pleasure,
enjoying the feel of the fingers now sliding in and out
of her wetness, matching the speed and intensity of
her own thrusts.

Quinn grabbed a thick fistful of soaking wet brown


locks in her hand, forcefully pulling their mouths
together and into a rough kiss. Rachel's gasps and
moans disappeared into Quinn's mouth as she
urgently moved her hips in rhythm with their thrusting.
Her legs began to quiver and she knew it wouldn't be
much longer. She curled her fingers, pressing firmly
on that spot, and Quinn nearly squirmed off the edge
of the bed; the diva was pleased to feel her moan
loudly against her mouth.

As she felt a familiar pull begin in her abdomen and


travel down her legs, she dug her nails into Quinn's
back and threw her head back, forcing herself to
remain focused on the movements of her own hand.
Quinn began to tremor, and Rachel stopped her
thrusting, curling her fingers inside once, twice, three
times until she felt the walls around her finger tighten
and Quinn make the most amazing sound she'd ever
heard in her life, Broadway be damned. Quinn made
one final push with her hand and Rachel felt that
warm, tingling sensation shoot to every inch of her
body as she came.

Panting, she fell backwards on the bed and closed


her eyes, unable to do much else. She felt Quinn fall
beside her and her arm fall across her stomach.
When she began to regain coherency, she took a
deep breath to collect her thoughts before speaking.

"Quinn." It was more of a statement than a question,


and she wasn't sure if she expected a reply or not.
She got one anyway.

"Stay."

Rachel's eyes widened as wondered if she had heard


her correctly. "What?"

"Stay here," she said simply, tightening her grip on the


smaller girl.

Rachel beamed and felt thankful that the other girl still
had her eyes closed. "Okay."

They stayed that wait for a few minutes, quietly


enjoying the comfort. Rachel broke the silence first,
as usual. "Quinn?" She didn't get a reply, but she did
feel her adjust her head to look at her. "Why today?"

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"I can't even count how many times we've done this
and you never make a sound. Ever."

"I'll stop."

Rachel looked incredulous. "What? That is hardly


what I meant," she huffed. "What I meant was that
you never moan, never mumble, never speak. Why
are you always silent? Why did you stop today?"

She shrugged. "I had to be silent because I was afraid


if I started saying things I wouldn't stop. Like word
vomit."

"And today was different?"

"Today I stopped caring."

"What were you so afraid of saying?"

Quinn tensed and waited a long, heavy moment


before responding. "That I've been falling in love with
you since the first time you walked in my house with
your bedazzled bedazzler."

Oh.
"And your silence now is EXACTLY why." Her voice
wavered as she moved away.

Rachel snapped out of her reverie and realized she


had, for quite possibly the first time in her life, missed
a very important social cue that required her to say
something.

"No! I mean, I didn't intend to be silent."

"Your non-response isn't much better, Rachel!"

Rachel slid over on the bed, pressing her chest into


Quinn's back and wrapping her arm around her hips.
"I'm glad you finally said something."

"You are?" she whispered.

"Yes." She tightened her grip. "Did you finish?"

"Uh, coming? You couldn't tell?"

Rachel laughed heartily. "No."

"Did I finish what?"

"Falling."

"Are you asking if I'm in love with you?"

"Yes."
"Yes."

Rachel shoved Quinn's hip to guide her onto her back


and rolled on top of her. Quinn looked anxious.

"You shouldn't have been afraid to say that."

"Why not?"

"Clearly, the sentiment is returned."

"Clearly?" Quinn laughed. "Are you saying you're in


love with me?"

"Yes."

They kissed, but not like they usually did; they kissed
softly, slowly, and without intent. When they broke
away, Quinn reached for the comforter on the floor
and pulled it over them before curling against
Rachel's back.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"Now what?"

"Now we're going to lay here for a few minutes before


we change these soaking wet sheets. Not drying off
was a much better idea then than now."

Rachel laughed. "That's not what I meant, though I


think they may have been soaked regardless."

Quinn chuckled. "Well, what do you want to happen?"

"Thursdays on many other days."

Quinn smiled against her shoulder. "Are you going to


break up with Finn?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "As soon as possible. Are you


going to break up with Sam?"

"I already did," she said, pride in her voice.

...

The next day at school, quite unceremoniously,


Rachel broke up with Finn right in the middle of the
hallway before spinning on her heel to carry on with
her day. She noted that it wasn't much different than
the time he dumped her shortly after the kitten
calendar incident, and wondered if she'd have more
luck with Quinn if she used a puppy calendar.

In glee club, Finn and Sam sat together at the back of


the room, glowering at their ex-girlfriends at every
opportunity. Rachel and Quinn sat together in the
front row, acting as though not a thing had changed.
Two minutes before she expected Mr. Schuester to
shuffle in, Rachel's phone buzzed in her bag. She
glanced sideways at Quinn, who was literally less
than a foot away, but checked her phone.

It's not bridge night.

She smirked. It's not. She put her phone away,


thinking that would be it. It buzzed again and heard
Quinn chuckle beside her as she retrieved it.

It can be Thursday on Friday. I'll see you at 7.

Rachel crossed her legs and thought maybe she'd


just call every night bridge night now. When Mr.
Schuester came in, she tuned out and started thinking
that maybe she'd be able to start making plans again,
starting with what was going to be happening at
approximately 7:01 P.M.

...

The end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers


and creators.

A/N: Don't worry, I'm not working on stuff other than


my WIPs, this is just another thing I've been sitting on
for a while and, well, I want feedback. This was my
first exercise in Brittana/Faberry friendship…ness. So
let me know what you think. :)

AU: Quinn was never pregnant; no one is dating Finn.

Part 1/3

Rachel was in love with Quinn. Which was quite


disturbing, on many levels, in her opinion. Before this,
Rachel had never thought herself as one prone to
masochistic tendencies, though she did tend to
surround herself with people who were bound to hurt
her in one way or another. Like Finn, or Brittany.

Not that Brittany could ever actually intentionally hurt


anyone, but Santana would—and not just emotionally.
And the two were sort of a package deal, so when
Brittany started sitting with Rachel at lunch, Santana
came, too—however reluctantly.

The new habit had surprised Rachel (the first day


she'd brushed it off as a one-time occurrence), but
when Quinn joined them, her cosmos was off-kilter for
several disconcerting days. She even went sharp
once. It was not good.

It wasn't as though Quinn or Santana were suddenly


her B.F.F.s, of course. That was apparently Brittany's
new duty, or so the girl told Rachel once when they
were skipping down the hall a la The Yellow Brick
Road (Santana and Quinn had refused, but the
brunette just couldn't resist that pouting face). In fact,
Quinn wouldn't even talk to her at first, and the only
thing Santana ever said was, 'Man Hands.' Or a
variation on that.

Still, just the fact that they would deign to sit with her
had Rachel's head spinning. She spent many weeks
trying to figure out what their angle was, what they
could possibly be getting out of it. But in the end, she
concluded that the only person getting anything out of
this new arrangement was her. She had a new friend,
and she wasn't going to ruin that over her built-in
sense of paranoia when it came to people wearing
Cheerios uniforms.

So there it was. Rachel and Brittany talked and


chatted and hung out—even went shopping once—
and Santana and Quinn tagged along with many eye
rolls and folded arms. Until the day Santana and
Brittany didn't show up to lunch.

Rachel was far from innocent, despite what her


clothing style suggested to many McKinley High
students, so when Quinn sat across from her—the
other Cheerios nowhere in sight—she could guess
what the two were up to. The sour look on Quinn's
face only confirmed it. After a few minutes of silence
following the usual grunt the blonde gave in response
to the brunette's greeting, Rachel told her she could
leave if she wanted to. Which was apparently a
mistake.
Quinn had taken Rachel's offer as a personal insult,
thinking she was trying to make her leave. It took
several minutes to clear this up. And then the blonde
asked her why she let people walk all over her the
way she did, which was how Quinn and Rachel
started talking. Like, really talking. Again, they weren't
best friends—hardly friends at all, really, since Quinn
refused to call her by her actual name and wouldn't be
seen talking to her outside of the cafeteria—but they
did talk. Civilly, even. And it opened a door that
Rachel now desperately wished had been kept shut.

It still didn't hit Rachel for several weeks. Brittany had


to say something before she realized what had
happened. All it took was that small comment, though.
The blonde had leaned over and whispered in her
ear, "Do you like Q?" Rachel stared at her,
flabbergasted, and demanded, "What?" And Brittany
added, "You're looking at her like San looks at me
when we're going to skip lunch."

Rachel's cheeks had gone flaming red and she hadn't


been able to look at Quinn for the rest of the day,
because Brittany's comment had done the magic trick.
She tried to fight it, of course. For several days, she
observed her reactions to Quinn, Quinn's reactions to
her, and made lists. Lists of things she didn't like
about Quinn and things she did.

Sadly, the latter was about two pages (front and back)
longer than the former—and that was only half a
page, all consisting of things like 'slushies.' And she
hadn't actually finished the second list. When it
started coming down to things like 'how her thighs
quiver when she's been at Cheerios practice,' she'd
decided that what she had was sufficient.

And after all that effort, the evidence piled up against


Rachel and she was left with that inevitable truth: she
was in love with Quinn.

Her next step was to decide what to do about this—


which the gutter part of her brain that every teenager
is imbued with took great delight in. Again, Rachel
made extensive lists of her ideas, and then came up
with multiple scenarios based on those, none of which
ended well. She mulled her options over for two more
days before she came to a simple conclusion. She
would have to tell Quinn.

This didn't seem like the wisest decision Rachel


could've made. In fact, when put plainly like that, it
sounded a lot like suicide. But what the brunette was
counting on was Brittany.

As much as Quinn liked to pretend she didn't care


about anyone but herself, she was actually very
protective of her fellow blonde, and now that Brittany
and Rachel were friends, being cruel to the brunette
would only upset her. Which Quinn wouldn't do, even
without the threat of Santana hanging over her head.
So Rachel could be sure that when she told Quinn,
the result would be a near death experience, rather
than a complete loss of life. And it would incur just
enough cruelty from the blonde to make this uprising
of unwanted feelings go away.

Rachel decided she would need to have a speech


prepared, and she would have to go in fully armed
with a list of possible reactions from Quinn. So, during
her free period on Monday, she burrowed into her
favorite cubby of the library with several pens, scrap
paper, and a notebook, and began diligently
scratching down her ideas.

This was how Santana and Brittany found Rachel


when the bell rang for lunch—hunched so far over her
nose nearly touched the page, eyes screwed tight to
focus on her words, and hand cramping very, very
badly.

"Jeez. Forget to finish a project, Two Shoes?"


Santana asked as she plopped into the chair across
from the brunette.

'Two Shoes' was a new special favorite of Santana's,


ever since she found out Rachel was still a virgin. It
was far better than the repeated insults to her
womanhood, so Rachel let it slide. Not that there was
much she could've done about it had she actually
minded.
She jerked up and groaned aloud when her back
cracked several times with the movement. The
cheerleaders exchanged a glance as Brittany eased
into the chair next to the brunette, who was currently
trying to unclench her hand from around the pen she
was holding.

"You okay, Rach?" the blonde asked worriedly.

She had that adorably concerned look on her face


where her brow crinkled and she kept worrying her lip
between her teeth. Rachel hurriedly offered her a
weak smile and a nod.

"Yes, I'm fine. However, I've been writing since the


start of my free period, which in hindsight may not
have been the wisest decision. Ow." She stretched
her fingers and winced.

Brittany brightened almost automatically. "What are


you writing?"

Occasionally, Rachel would write short stories for


Brittany. Usually about ducks, of course, and never
very long, but Brittany enjoyed them and she was the
only one the brunette would allow to read them.
Santana knew this, of course, but evidently today she
didn't care, because she snatched up Rachel's
notebook.
The brunette screeched in horror and lunged across
the table to steal it back from her—and promptly
gutted herself on the sharp corner of the table. It
knocked the wind right out of her chest, and she
dropped back into her chair, holding her throbbing
side and mentally cursing Santana.

The Latina ignored the groans of pain across from her


in favor of flipping through the pages, brow hiking
higher and higher as she read. Brittany absently
patted Rachel's arm, but evidently she was far more
interested in whatever it was the brunette had been
writing than in her newly bruised abdomen.

"What is it, San?" she asked, bouncing in her chair.


"Is it a duck story?"

"Nope," she muttered.

Rachel shot daggers at her, but Santana didn't make


any further comment, much to Brittany's
disappointment. The Latina tired of reading it in short
order and tossed the notebook back down in front of
Rachel.

"Quinn would never say that. Or if she did, she


wouldn't use that many words," Santana advised, and
then proceeded to crack her knuckles.

Rachel gaped at the Latina. Of course, she hadn't


expected her to be repulsed by the idea of two girls—
for obvious reasons that were currently manifesting
themselves in the form of a sensual smirk on
Santana's face as she eyed the blonde to the
brunette's left—but when one of them was Rachel and
the other was her best friend, well…she was
expecting more of a reaction, to put it nicely.

Brittany was glancing impatiently between them.


"Well? What is it?"

"Nothing!" Rachel yelped immediately. It did her no


good.

"It's a 'List of Possible Comebacks' Q will have to


RuPaul having the hots for her."

The brunette glared and opened her mouth to say…


she didn't know what exactly, but it was going to hurt.
Fortunately, Brittany saved her from having to think of
anything.

"Really? Let me see."

The blonde reached for the notebook and Rachel


leapt to grab it first, but Santana's glower stopped her
in her tracks and she could only watch on miserably
as Brittany read. She'd only gotten about halfway
down the page when she turned mournful eyes on the
brunette.

"Poor Rachel," she said softly.


Rachel's spine stiffened and she set her jaw. If
Brittany started getting gushy on her, she wouldn't be
able to hold it together. Thus far, she'd been able to
avoid the dreaded box of Kleenex, and she was
determined to stay strong through the rest of this, too.
Even if Quinn stomped on her heart and left her for
dead.

"I'm just trying to prepare myself," she replied at


length, slipping the notebook from the blonde's hands.

"Then prepare yourself right. Quinn isn't going to give


you ten paragraphs worth of reasons she doesn't
want you," Santana barked. "She's going to slice you
down in a few words."

She bristled with irritation that she couldn't keep out of


her voice when she retorted, "I know that! I just…I
have difficulty coming up with proper insults. It's not
something I've had a lot of practice with."

The Latina snorted. "Really? You'd think you'd have


picked up something after all those years being a
freak."

"You're the one with experience. Why don't you try


coming up with something?" the brunette snapped
back.

"How about 'I'm not into bestiality, Dog Breath'?"


They scowled at each other for several moments
while Rachel processed that and Brittany glanced
between them, frowning deeply. And then the light
bulb went off over the brunette's head and she
couldn't help the grin that claimed her lips. Santana
shot out of her chair.

"No fucking way, Berry," she snapped.

Rachel stood with her, blocking the door. "Please?


Santana, your insults are superlative—you made our
math teacher cry once, for heaven's sake! You're the
only person who can properly prepare me for what
Quinn might say!"

Her eyes narrowed. "You can't flatter me into helping


you," she snarled.

"This isn't flattery; this is fact," she said intensely. "I


need your help. This is the only way I can get over
Quinn, but if I'm not well prepared, she may just break
my heart into a thousand pieces instead of
inadvertently helping me to move on healthily from an
infatuation that can only be detrimental to my
emotional wellbeing."

Brittany frowned, but Santana rolled her eyes.

"You are such a sap, Man Hands."


She decided to ignore that comment. "What do you
want? I'll do anything. Organize your room, do the
Cheerios's laundry for a month, cover for you and
Brittany with Mr. Schuester sometime, pay you—
anything, just please help me!"

"No. Fucking. Way!"

"San," Brittany whimpered.

The Latina's cold eyes shot to the blonde and Rachel


saw her melt a little bit. The brunette wasn't one to
count her eggs before they hatched, but if that look
was any indication, she had already won. She bit
back a victory grin, though, waiting for Brittany to
finish wearing her down. It took a little while, but
eventually Santana growled, threw her hands in the
air, and returned to her seat.

Rachel grinned gratefully at Brittany as she sat back


down as well, scooping up her pen again. The blonde
returned it, and they both turned to face a scowling
Santana.

"I'm only doing this because it means I get to insult


you for the rest of lunch," she grumbled irritably.

Rachel smiled. "I entered into this with no other


expectation."

XXXXXX
"Where the hell have you three been?" Quinn hissed
angrily.

Rachel felt a twist of guilt when she realized they had,


in fact, abandoned Quinn and left her to her own
devices during lunch. She exchanged a pleading
glance with Brittany and Santana as they sank into
the chairs to their fellow cheerleader's left. Of course,
no help was forthcoming from Santana—the Latina
just rolled her eyes and faced Mr. Schuester. Rachel
dropped into the spot next to Brittany, who winked at
her.

"San and I had alone time today," she told Quinn


brightly.

Santana groaned, but Rachel smiled appreciatively at


the blonde. It always disgusted Quinn when the two of
them made innuendos about their sex life—it was the
perfect excuse to knock her off the scent. Rachel
avoided Quinn's sharp eyes, instead pulling out her
glee notebook and turning her attention to Mr.
Schuester at the front of the room.

Her bones turned to jelly when she heard the head


cheerleader growl, "And you?"

The blood drained from her face. Damn Quinn's


intelligence. Actually, it was really hot—no! Bad line of
thought. Rachel forced herself to meet her eyes,
which were trained on her unwaveringly. The brunette
wracked her brain for an excuse, but her head had
turned to jelly with the rest of her, and her jaw flapped
soundlessly. Quinn's nose wrinkled with sudden
disgust, and she glanced between Rachel and the
other cheerleaders.

"Don't tell me you thr—"

"NO!" Santana bellowed at the same time as Rachel


yelped it.

The room froze, and the blood rushed back to


Rachel's face and neck as she felt everyone's eyes
on them. Quinn rolled her eyes in annoyance, but
there was relief in place of disgust in her expression
now.

"You have a sick mind, Fabray," Santana snapped


accusingly, apparently unaware of the attention they
were receiving from the nine other people in the room.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" Mr. Schuester cut in with


a frown.

Rachel cleared her throat, gathering her wits. "No, sir.


We're sorry for the interruption. It won't happen again.
Please, continue."

He nodded uncertainly and slowly turned back to the


room at large. When the room had quieted save for
Mr. Schue's lecturing, Rachel felt it was safe to pull
out her pen and began jotting notes on what he was
saying. She had just gotten her mind back on track
when Quinn completely ruined any chance she had at
maintaining any sort of focus at all for the rest of the
day.

"Well?"

It was purred in her ear, from behind, and Rachel


jumped and shuddered simultaneously, and she could
suddenly feel hot breath on her neck and ear, and
goose bumps shot along her arms. She glanced
furtively toward the seat Quinn had been occupying. It
was empty. The brunette squeezed her legs together
and tried her hardest not to squirm.

"Hm?" It was the only thing she could get out that
wasn't completely unintelligible.

"I asked you a question. Where were you at lunch?"


she repeated, the edge of irritation back in her voice.

Uh oh. She couldn't think of anything! Rachel glanced


at the girl next to her, but Brittany was oblivious to her
plight. She tried to send out a telepathic message.
Brittany! Help!

It didn't work. Evidently her psychic ability still hadn't


reached its full potential.
"I had a..." Meeting? Flu bug? Slushie emergency?
That might've worked if she had actually changed her
clothes since this morning. Quinn was waiting. Say
something. Anything. Any words at all. "P-p-project."

Thank God for Santana and her assumptions. Rachel


heaved a sigh of relief and let her mouth finish the
job.

"I needed a reference from the library for my English


project, so I was—"

"Got it. I don't need the novel every time, Berry. The
CliffsNotes version will do."

Rachel breathed to release the tension in her


shoulders when Quinn moved back to her seat. It
came rushing right back seconds later, when she
realized she had lost the ability to concentrate on
anything but the fact that her neck was still warm
where Quinn had been breathing on her. Thus, she
missed an entire lecture of glee for the first time in the
club's history, and it was all Quinn Fabray's fault.

They were all preparing to head to their next classes


when Rachel felt someone nudge her in the ribs—and
she knew it was Santana, because it was slightly
harder than necessary. She glanced up at her as she
stuffed her blank notebook back in the bag, already
slightly on edge.
"What?" she hissed.

The Latina scowled. "What do you think? You gonna


do it?"

"Huh?"

She frowned impatiently and jerked her head toward


Quinn, who was packing her things up as well.
Rachel's stomach rebelled and she shook her head
rapidly.

"Wuss," Santana muttered.

"I'm not ready yet," she said defensively.

She glared. "So I spent my entire lunch hour helping


your ass just so you could chicken out?"

"No, I will tell her," Rachel replied sharply. The Latina


looked dubious. "I will. When I'm ready."

"Fine. But if you don't, I will."

She paled, staring wide-eyed up at the other girl. And


even though she knew she so would, she gasped,
"You wouldn't."

She smirked. "You wanna take the risk?" That vicious


gleam entered her eye. "By Friday, Two Shoes. Or I
tell Goldilocks myself."
And Santana proceeded to execute a Head Bitch exit.
It was reminiscent of the diva storm-off, Rachel
reflected. Just stiffer, and with less hair-flipping. She
abruptly decided to keep this observation to herself,
because she really didn't want a black eye on top of
being in love with Quinn Fabray.

Brittany tapped her, and they started the trek to their


next class together. "San's just trying to help," she
assured her, smiling.

Rachel smiled back gratefully. "I think I've had all the
'help' I can stand."

"Are you sure? I could tell her," she offered,


brightening.

She laughed. "Thank you, but I need to do this myself.


If I allow anyone else to do it...well, first of all, that
would be simply cowardly of me. Besides, I need to
see—and hear—her reaction in person. It won't set in
properly if I don't, and then instead of moving on, I'll
be locking myself in my room, blasting depressing
music, and crying myself to sleep every night for the
rest of my life."

"That's awful," the blonde sympathized, drooping so


much Rachel wanted to hug her.

She linked their arms instead, which cheered her up a


bit.

"Don't worry. I'll tell her before Friday, she can reject
me, and then we can all move on from this."

A/N: You guys are getting me all blush-y with your


compliments. :) Thanks so much; you're awesome.

Part 2/3

It was Thursday. Thursday afternoon, to be precise.


Throughout the entirety of lunch, Santana kept up a
steady glower at Rachel, emphasizing her point with
occasional head jerks toward Quinn. Rachel tried to
pretend she didn't notice anything, but when it
occurred to her that the Latina hadn't specified
whether she meant Friday at the beginning of the day,
or Friday at the end of the day, she quickly spiraled
into an obsessive state of pure panic.

Rachel had tried telling Quinn over the past couple


days. She honestly had. During lunch, she would shift
a little closer on the bench, open her mouth to speak,
and then she'd look up into quizzical hazel eyes that
sent her stomach twisting and had her rushing to
throw away her lunch before she'd actually finished it.
On Wednesday, the brunette managed to ask Quinn if
she minded if she asked her something personal.
When the blonde just shook her head, Rachel asked if
she liked peas.
Yep, peas. All that build-up, and that's what came out.
Santana looked like she was going to bang her head
against the table—repeatedly. Or possibly Rachel's,
so the brunette made a point of scooting a bit further
down the bench and out of the aggressive Latina's
range. Brittany perked up and exclaimed that she
loved peas, and Quinn laughed and nodded her
agreement. Rachel fled as soon as possible so she
could search for a deep, dark hole to disappear into
forever. Her search was unsuccessful.

During glee and classes, Rachel would promise


herself that she would gather the guts to talk to Quinn,
ask her to stay after and practice with her or
something. She didn't even need the hazel eyes then.
All it took was looking at the blonde—whether from
across the room, or right next to her with the other
Cheerios—and the brunette was out of there.

Rachel tried to remind herself—several times over—


that the rejection was necessary. She needed to go
through with it in order to get rid of these feelings. And
she wasn't afraid of the rejection, she realized. She
was afraid of losing Quinn as her semi-friend, so she
was savoring every moment she could get with the
blonde before she ruined it. In the end, though,
Rachel was ten times more frightened of Santana—
and the way she would undoubtedly paint her
infatuation—than of losing Quinn's friendship.

Because Rachel could deal with Quinn avoiding her


and hating her and making fun of her—she'd already
experienced that. She couldn't deal with Quinn
thinking she watched her from outside her bedroom
window and had a shrine dedicated to her in her
armoire.

So the brunette steeled herself. Through glee, she ran


over her prepared speech in her head over and over
again, avoiding Brittany's concerned gaze, Santana's
glower, and Quinn's glances as she sang along
distractedly. She considered asking Santana to
expound upon her threat, but really, what would be
the point? If the Latina had actually meant Friday at
the end of the day and Rachel pointed out that she
could've meant at the beginning, she would likely
hastily change her mind in order to appear more
vicious. So the diva decided upon the wiser course of
action—just get it over with.

Santana elbowed her in the ribs when Mr. Schue


dismissed them—the still slightly sore side she'd
impaled herself upon on Monday. Rachel hissed in
pain.

The Latina was unsympathetic. "Well?"

"Yes, all right?" she grumbled, rubbing her abdomen


soothingly. "I'm going to tell her right now."

Brittany patted her on the back. "We'll wait for you in


the library."
Santana scowled. "We will?"

Rachel smiled gratefully, knowing they would despite


the Latina's protests.

"Thank you. But please be at last halfway decent


when I arrive," she added hastily, shuddering at the
mental image of walking in on...that.

Santana growled to herself and Brittany seized


Rachel in a hug.

"Good luck!" she whispered in her ear, and then


tugged Santana along behind her.

Rachel sighed, again massaging her side where


Santana had elbowed her. She would probably have
a light bruise now that the Latina had aggravated it.
Really, she needed to learn the range of her
formidable strength. Or possibly to control her
impulses. The diva might've suggested anger
management to the taller brunette had she not feared
having a much larger bruise in a more noticeable
location.

"You okay?"

The brunette jumped and clutched her chest, trying to


slow her racing heart. It was just Quinn, after all.
Which made her heart race for entirely different
reasons. She nodded sheepishly at the other girl, who
was eyeing her critically.

"Yes, fine. Santana isn't fully aware of her capacity to


grievously injure petite persons such as myself," she
replied, shrugging.

Quinn smirked, and Rachel wondered if she was


amused by her, or just taking pleasure in the shorter
girl's pain. Best not to think about that, she supposed.

"Yeah, well." The blonde shrugged her backpack


higher on her shoulder. "See you."

She brushed past her, heading for the nearest exit,


and Rachel took a breath. This was it. Either tell
Quinn or let Santana. She swallowed down her fears
and ignored her wildly twisting stomach.

"Quinn?" she called, and winced when she realized


how vulnerable she sounded. She cleared her throat
to strengthen her voice when the blonde turned. "Can
I talk to you about something?"

Quinn glanced at the clock. Rachel winced. She


would've told her never mind, that it wasn't important,
but there was Santana, in the back of her mind,
pushing her to keep going. The blonde sighed and
plopped her backpack on the piano.

"Sure," she said disinterestedly, and the brunette


appreciated the lack of insults added to that very
apathetic answer.

Rachel wrung her hands as she approached,


unconsciously placing the piano between them. Quinn
leaned against it, shooting sideways glances her way,
though those hazel eyes continuously trailed to the
clock high on the wall. The brunette sighed. This was
what she'd been expecting, hoping for, even—
rejection. Complete indifference followed by disgust.
So it shouldn't hurt like this.

Focus, she told herself. The speech was the


important part. She ran through it again in her head
while the blonde waited with growing impatience.

"Well?" she asked sharply.

Rachel stroked the piano keys once—for good luck—


and took another deep breath. "Quinn, I have
something I need to tell you. The last thing I want is to
ruin the tentative friendship we've developed in the
past few months, but after some reflection, I've
realized that it would be disrespectful to that
friendship if I kept quiet." Which was all true, if not the
whole truth.

Quinn's brow was arched—one of her most popular


defense mechanisms. She shifted uncomfortably in
place against the piano, but still nodded for her to go
on. "Okay..."
Another deep breath. "Over the past few weeks—and
after a revealing comment made by one of our mutual
friends—I have been observing our interactions with
one another with keen interest in an attempt to
decipher what my feelings for you actually are. And..."
Breathe. "In light of several revelations—including the
observation that I'd rather sing for you than an entire
auditorium full of people, and the automatic thought
that my day is better when you enter the room—I've
come to the conclusion that I..." Swallow. Breathe.
"I'm in love with you."

XXXXXX

Santana shoved open the library doors and gestured


Brittany through first, itching to get to Berry's 'cubby.'
If Quinn kicked the midget to the curb, she only had
so much time before Two Shoes rushed into Brittany's
arms, wailing like a little girl—and the Latina didn't
plan on wasting one minute. Because, seriously, this
could be the last time she'd get laid in a while.

After the subsequent bawling like a baby, Brit would


be her sweet little self and not want to leave Berry to
fend for herself—and of course she'd stop talking to
Q, so it wouldn't be like Santana could convince her
the losers could keep each other company while they
were gone. And she'd be stuck with Third Wheel
Berry for however many weeks it took her to get over
Barbie, with no opportunity to ditch her for a bit to get
her mack on.

"We're closing soon, ladies," the librarian barked from


her desk.

Santana flipped her off. Bitch.

It didn't take long to get to the study room at the back,


and the Latina kicked the door shut behind them and
got right down to business, kissing at Brittany's neck
and fiddling with the zipper on her Cheerios skirt.

The blonde's arms came up around her and she


sighed contentedly, and Santana reveled in the moan
she felt vibrate against her tongue when she let it
come out to play. But then…as always, for some
reason, Brittany wanted to talk first. And it wasn't that
the Latina didn't like the talking—it was perfectly
peachy. But she didn't see why it couldn't wait until
after the more important stuff got done.

"Do you think Q and Rachel will want to go feed the


ducks with us?" Brittany asked cheerfully.

Santana sighed, sagging in her arms a bit before she


perked up at a thought and nipped at the blonde's
pulse point. She squeaked a little and pressed her
own kiss to the Latina's hair, squeezing her sides
encouragingly. Relieved, Santana went back to work,
sweeping toward her collarbone.
"Oh! We could go on double dates!" the blonde
exclaimed suddenly.

She sighed again. "B…."

She hugged her tight, suddenly concerned. "Are you


okay, S?"

"Yeah…fine. It's just…." The Latina grumbled to


herself. Was she really going to do this? Give up on
the chase in order to talk? Seemed like something a
pansy would do, but…gah, she was so whipped.

She tugged at Brittany's arm, pulling her to sit in the


chairs by the table she'd had so many plans for.
Hopefully this little chat would go quickly. She sent up
a quick prayer, even though she was pretty sure she'd
filled her quota by now. If God kept quotas. Maybe
she would ask Quinn about that later.

Santana shook her head—hard. She was spending


too much time around Brittany and Berry, she
decided.

"Look, B, I don't want you getting your hopes up too


high about Q and Two Shoes, okay?" she said
sternly, meeting the blonde's eyes.

A pout quickly formed on the taller girl's lips, and the


Latina leaned in to kiss it away, but Brittany dodged
her.
"You don't think they're gonna get together?" she
asked sadly.

Santana heaved another sigh. "I'm not sure."

"Why wouldn't they?" Brittany perked up suddenly, a


light in her eyes. "They give each other happy looks
all the time, just like you and me. And Q isn't cranky
when Rachel is around; she likes when she's there. It
was her idea to invite her shopping, remember?"

"I know, I know. But…." The Latina frowned, gathering


her thoughts. She wasn't sure how to put this to
Brittany without upsetting her too much. "Do…you
remember the first time we got it together?"

The blonde's megawatt grin had Santana smiling, too,


but she pushed it away hastily when she remembered
the reason she had brought it up in the first place. Her
gut twisted and she dug underneath her nails for
invisible dirt, wishing that guilty feeling wouldn't
interrupt her recollection of that night—just once.

"Yep!"

"And…do you remember the next morning?"

The grin was gone in a flash and Santana thought she


might be sick, but she held it together. Brittany gazed
at her sorrowfully, dipping her chin in
acknowledgement. The Latina impulsively reached for
her hand, squeezing it in hopes that it conveyed all
the protectiveness and affection she was feeling. She
smiled triumphantly when she saw the blonde's lips
quirk upward.

"I was a Grade A asshole, and it was all because I


was scared shitless," Santana explained, and sighed.
"And Q is just as big a cowardly idiot as I am." Which
was exactly why that list of insults Berry had wanted
were a good idea, she mused. Not that she would
ever admit that to the little diva—her head was
already big enough.

Brittany gaped at Santana in a panic. "But—poor


Rachel! What if—"

"I'm not saying that's exactly how this is gonna play


out; I just don't want your hopes up too high," she
cautioned, squeezing her hand again.

The blonde considered that. "But they can be up?"

She couldn't help but grin. "Yes, they can be up."

Brittany's smile returned and the Latina's grin turned


wicked as she leaned in to occupy her girl's lips, this
time without being evaded.

XXXXXX
Silence. It took Rachel a moment to realize that she
was staring at her feet. She'd just declared her love
for her Mary Janes, apparently. She nearly rolled her
eyes at herself before dragging her gaze up—her chin
was heavier than she remembered it being—and
slowly, hesitantly, met hazel eyes.

Quinn was staring at her. Wide-eyed, unblinking, and


shocked. That was the only thing Rachel could read in
her expression, and she decided to take advantage of
that shock to move on to the next part of her speech
—she'd prepared it especially for this possibility,
actually.

"I apologize for any trauma this information may


cause you, but I promise you that you don't have to
worry about my affections becoming any more
obvious than they've been over the past few weeks,"
Rachel assured her hastily. "I'm well aware of the
limits your sexual orientation and religion place on
you, not to mention your hatred of me, so I expect
nothing more from you than either further displays of
that hatred, or, if you're not too uncomfortable, the
friendship we've established in spite of it." She
cleared her throat.

More silence. That was all Rachel had prepared to


say, and now the silence was unnerving her. She
hated silence. It bothered her more than those alleged
child prodigies—who would lose their voice from
overuse in a few years—the media shoved down the
public's throat.

Even more unnerving was the way Quinn was still


staring at her, unmoved from her previous pose. The
shock hadn't faded one bit, and the only thing that had
changed was that her perfect pink lips were slightly
parted now. Rachel did her best not to stare at them.

The brunette shifted, and she waited as long as she


could. Quinn really did deserve time to absorb this
before she went about the business of rejecting
Rachel, but she wished she would hurry the process
up a bit. The silence and the staring and the
anticipation of rejection were all proving to be too
much for her. So, after about thirty seconds of silence,
she broke down.

"Please say something," Rachel begged quietly.

Even more silence. But the stillness didn't last as long


this time. Quinn gradually straightened, adjusting her
Cheerios uniform about three times, but she never
broke eye contact with the brunette. She shifted her
position again. Rachel was losing hope that she
would ever get her volley of insults to knock her mind
off the gorgeous cheerleader.

Then, finally, Quinn licked her lips and spoke. "I don't
hate you."

Now Rachel was staring. Her jaw flapped several


times before a single word came out, "What?"

"I don't hate you," she repeated, firmer this time, but
her voice still sounded kind of…hollow. As though she
wasn't quite sure what was happening was real. As
though she was a little detached from the whole
situation.

Rachel was confused. Where were the insults?


Where was the screaming? The disgust? The abject
horror? She faltered. Had they even accounted for
this as a possible comeback? She leapt into action,
unzipping her backpack hastily and digging through it,
hunting for the notebook with her list of comebacks,
and completely missing the breath Quinn took in the
process.

"Ra—"

"Hold on. Just one second," the brunette said, holding


up a finger as she found success in her hunt.

Then, as quickly as she could, she plopped the


notebook on the piano, whipped it open, and started
flipping through the pages, scanning them for those
four words

Quinn didn't try talking again while Rachel searched in


vain, reaching the end of her possible comebacks.
She even flipped back to the beginning, going
backwards. She held the notebook in front of her
chest, like a shield, panicking now.

"That...that's not in here," she told Quinn anxiously.


The blonde's brow arched and she opened her mouth
again, but Rachel added, "Are you sure you don't
want to say something else? Perhaps a derogatory
comment concerning my status as a female?" She
glanced at the page. "Or could I possibly interest you
in something along the lines of, 'You couldn't be less
desirable to me if you rubbed yourself on a leper'? O-
or a metaphor involving my clothing in relation to my
attractiveness?"

Quinn was flinching as though being repeatedly


struck. Rachel panicked even more. How was she
supposed to react to this? She hadn't prepared for it
at all! She needed backup—and more lists—and
planning. Immediately.

"I'm—"

"I have to go," Rachel cut in, voice shaking. "I have
to...yeah. Um...sorry, I'll...see you."

She snatched up her backpack, still clutching the


notebook tight to her chest, and rushed from the
room. Where were Santana and Brittany waiting
again? Library, right. She redirected her steps and
flew past the librarian, ignoring her warning that she
was closing in a half hour, and straight to her favorite
cubby. She flung the door open and the two girls
sprang apart. Rachel thanked God that they were still
fully clothed, at least.

The brunette set the notebook and backpack in one of


the chairs and started pacing while the Cheerios
straightened and readjusted clothing. What was that
supposed to mean, anyway? She didn't hate her? Oh,
hooray. That was definitely the same thing as giving a
clear answer. Not. Maybe she could get over these
feelings just by resenting Quinn's non-response...

"How did it go?" Brittany asked cheerfully, mind


already on a different track.

Santana glared at the brunette, folding her arms


grumpily.

"She...she said...she said she doesn't hate me,"


Rachel stammered, brow knitting.

Brittany smiled. "I knew it! Did she give you a happy?"

"What's a—" She promptly turned red. "No. That was


all she said, that she doesn't hate me. And then she
just stood there."

Her gaze gradually turned to the silent party in the


room, who was tapping the arm of her chair
impatiently. The blonde followed her example, but it
still took the Latina a moment to realize she was
being stared at. She glanced between them, scowling.
"What?" Rachel raised her eyebrows, and Santana
scoffed. "Seriously, you think I know what that
means?"

"Well, you are Quinn's best friend," she pointed out,


frowning.

"Yeah. Because we don't talk about sentimental crap,"


she retorted. "We leave each other alone, got each
other's back, and we're good. Try to talk about our
problems? Forget it."

"This isn't sentimental, Santana. This is a simple 'I


don't hate you' response, which I should think you'd
be able to decipher."

She rolled her eyes. "It probably just means that she
doesn't hate you. Can't you take anything at face
value, Berry? She threw you a bone, now go chew on
it."

"San..." Brittany whimpered, eyes shining.

The Latina growled. "No. I'm not getting involved in


their shit any more than I already have. And you
shouldn't, either."

Rachel heaved a sigh. Santana was right. Why did


she have to overanalyze everything? Quinn saying
she didn't hate her meant just that—she didn't hate
her. Nothing more, nothing less. It still wasn't exactly
a clear response to Rachel's declaration, but she
could at least discern that Quinn didn't feel the same
way, but she wasn't going to end their friendship over
it, either. So the plan had failed.

Rachel would have to live on with these torturous


feelings for the head cheerleader, longing for her from
the suddenly too-close distance of an uneasy
acquaintanceship, with the knowledge that she
neither hated nor loved her. The brunette almost
missed being hated now. At least then, she inspired
some kind of passionate response. She shook her
head of her musings.

"All right, fine." She sank into the chair across from
them. "But at least tell me what I should do next."

Santana scowled. "What am I, your goddamn


therapist? Suck it up and go on with your life."

Brittany was frowning disapprovingly at her


counterpart, but Rachel couldn't help a small quirk of
her own lips.

"You know, for all your insults, you are strangely


therapeutic."

Santana rolled her eyes.

XXXXXX
Rachel took Santana's advice. Save for when she
arrived home Thursday evening—which involved a
pathetic spiral of depression, starting with the dreaded
box of Kleenex and ending with a repeat viewing of
'Steel Magnolias' to remind herself that worse things
could happen, and a gallon of orange sherbet—the
brunette, incredibly, managed to retrieve her cheery
exterior to cover the mess inside, and bounced and
annoyed her way through Friday as usual.

The only chinks in the armor came when Quinn was


around. Rachel couldn't even bring herself to meet
her eyes, despite the many eye rolls this elicited from
Santana—who seemed to be just as irritated with
Quinn as with Rachel, oddly enough. The diva hadn't
seen Quinn get smacked upside the head—
apparently just for sitting down—so many times in a
row before. She considered approaching Santana on
Quinn's head's behalf, but ultimately decided that that
would only lead to further injury to the blonde and
probably herself, and instead went the safer route—
asking Brittany to put a stop to it. Thankfully, the
head-smacking tapered off after this.

At lunch, she suddenly found something very


important regarding ducks to talk about with Brittany
and linked their arms so the blonde had no choice but
to sit next to her. Which kept Quinn safely on the
other side of the table.
Rachel was pleased with her brilliance until she
realized that across the table was even worse,
because those hazel eyes were right there, and the
brunette ended up straddling the bench in order to
avoid them. She wasn't proud of what she did in glee
to avoid her, but if she hadn't, she wouldn't have been
able to focus. So she hung on Noah's arm the entire
time, using him as a human shield from hazel eyes
that seemed to look her way far too often. Far more
often than she'd noticed before, that was for sure.

At least Noah knew Rachel wasn't interested in more


than friendship, and he didn't mind her use of his arm
to protect her. Even if he demanded payment, it
wouldn't be more than a French kiss, which Rachel
could handle if it meant avoiding Quinn. Just as long
as she didn't have to strip down or exploit animals,
she could deal.

The weekend was filled with more shameful


depression, the depletion of the Berry house's
Kleenex supply, and endless runs to the convenience
store for more icy cold comfort food.

And then Monday and Tuesday, it was back to


bouncing and bossing and lots of avoiding. It might
not have come down to Rachel hiding in her cubby in
the library during lunch if Quinn hadn't been acting the
way she was. But she kept staring her down, and
every time Rachel dared to glance at her, she opened
her mouth like she wanted to say something. The
brunette didn't want her to. She wanted to learn to
accept the 'I don't hate you' and let it be. Adding to it
would only wreck her.

It worked splendidly the first couple days. During


lunch, she was safe, alone, in the library. During
classes, they were busy. And during glee, she had
Noah to protect her. Though the first and last were
seriously starting to hurt Brittany's feelings, and
Rachel had a bad feeling she'd have to abandon
those safety zones soon. It was only on Wednesday
that this routine of Rachel's was utterly ruined.

The brunette grabbed the lunch she'd taken to


packing from her locker and ducked into the library,
nodding to the librarian and grabbing a book—just for
show, really—and then she heaved a sigh and
opened the door to her cubby. Where Quinn was
sitting.

Part 3/3

Rachel froze for a full twenty seconds before she was


able to react. She shifted the doorknob in her grasp
and inched backward.

"Uh...I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone would be in here.


I'll just—"

"Stop," Quinn said sharply, folding her arms. "Do you


really think I'd be in here for any other reason than
that I knew this was where you'd be?"

Rachel opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. She


actually couldn't think of any other reason for Quinn to
be here, with no lunch or books or backpack, now that
she mentioned it. But this could only mean one thing
—all her hard work had gone to waste. And now
Quinn was going to wreck Rachel's newfound
acceptance of their status as friends with some
unnecessary amendment to her first reaction. She felt
like crying again.

"Would you stop gawking at me and sit down?" the


blonde asked impatiently, and because the brunette
could see the discomfort beneath her irritability, she
obeyed.

They were silent for a moment while Rachel set her


lunch bag and book on the table, glancing anxiously
into hazel eyes and silently begging for mercy.
Quinn's jaw clenched and unclenched several times
before she finally spoke.

"I'm very angry with you," she said spitefully, and


Rachel couldn't help it—she gaped again.

But at least she had words this time. "You-you're mad


at me? What did I—"

"Besides running off instead of hearing me out and


then using Puck to avoid me?" she snapped,
gnashing her teeth around Noah's name.

Well, Rachel couldn't argue with that. She did—


vaguely—remember Quinn trying to say something or
other at one point, and she had to admit that she
hadn't really been paying much attention. And she
had run off, and she had used Noah as a device, and
she had been avoiding the blonde. The only thing she
couldn't figure out was—

"Why are you mad about that?"

Quinn growled in something akin to frustration,


throwing up her hands. "Why do you think? I've been
trying to talk to you for five days, but you won't look at
me, you won't answer my calls, I—"

"My phone is broken," Rachel said hurriedly. "I'm


getting a new one." She smiled nervously in an
attempt to placate the aggravated cheerleader.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. The


point is, I didn't want to corner you, but that's what
you made me do anyway."

She folded her arms again, slumping back in her


chair, and Rachel might've laughed at the petulant
way she did it—like a five-year-old girl who wasn't
getting her way—if she wasn't afraid Quinn would get
even more upset with her. She sighed instead, trying
to figure out what to say to that.
"Quinn, I...I just wanted to leave things as they were,"
she said carefully, and the blonde's eyes snapped to
hers. "I mean, I get it. You don't hate me, but that's as
far as it goes. It's perfectly understandable, and I can
learn to acc—"

"See, that, right there. That's it exactly." She huffed,


shaking her blonde head. "Did you really expect
something else after you caught me off-guard like
that? I mean, I-I thought I was dreaming for a minute
there. It was a lot to take in all at once, and the only
thing I could think was that you think I hate you—and
that it's not true. And when I actually knew what I was
going to say, you wouldn't let me talk."

Rachel was flabbergasted. "I-I'm sorry. I just...I was a


little caught off-guard, too. I was expecting you to tell
me you never wanted to see me again, or...or
something."

"Yeah, I got that," she grumbled, rolling her eyes


again.

Her brow furrowed. "What do you—"

"For someone who's supposedly in love with me,"


Quinn retorted mockingly, "you seem to have a pretty
low opinion of me. 'You couldn't be less desirable to
me if you rubbed yourself on a leper'?" Her brow
arched high, and the brunette swallowed her guilt at
the defensive move.

"Well…first off, that one was Santana's idea." Blonde


eyebrows popped up, so she hurried on. "And
second…Quinn, you have to admit that our dealings
in the past haven't always been the most pleasant,"
she said calmly, keeping her voice low so as not to
incite her wrath.

The blonde immediately looked away, grinding her


teeth. Rachel was tempted to tell her to cease that,
since it would only serve to mar her perfect dental
record, rather than washing away the guilt she felt.
But first of all, she didn't want a black eye. And
second, Quinn's teeth were not the issue here.
Though they were still quite lovely.

"I had to be prepared for any possibility," she added,


twisting the end of her sleeve around her thumb.

Quinn nodded curtly. "I guess you forgot a few."

Rachel allowed herself a small smile, hoping that it


wouldn't be completely inappropriate under the
circumstances. She didn't immediately have her head
taken off, so she let the smile grow a little and said
quietly, "I guess so."

They were quiet again, though the brunette didn't feel


quite so distressed this time. Quinn wasn't yelling at
her, and for the most part, she simply seemed
offended by Rachel's lack of consideration for her
feelings in the matter, which was fixable. She was
hearing her out now, and she'd had her reasons for
behaving the way she did. If Quinn still wasn't
satisfied, she could always work to make it up to her.

Before that line of thought could progress into territory


that should be saved for the privacy of her bedroom,
Quinn mercifully spoke.

"So Santana knew."

She looked extremely displeased with this


information.

Rachel squirmed. "Yes. She and Brittany caught me


trying to come up with scenarios and she read what I
had—without permission, I might add." The blonde's
lips twitched. "She corrected me and, after some
persuasion, she agreed to help me in generating
insults on par with your skills. I wasn't doing a very
good job of that on my own." She sighed. "And…
actually, she's quite possibly the only reason I told
you."

Quinn's brow arched again and the brunette sank in


her chair a little with the intensity of her gaze.

"Why?"

"She informed me that she would tell you if I did not,


and with her self-admitted love for 'stirring shit up', I
felt that it would—"

"No, I mean…why was she the only reason you told


me? If you were coming up with scenarios already,
then…."

"Oh, well, I did intend on telling you in order to get rid


of these feelings, but I was too nervous to actually go
through with it until it was almost too late, and then it
was only because I didn't want you to go on with your
life believing I was some crazed stalker with a mural
of pictures of you lining my bedroom walls." She
cleared her throat.

Quinn's lips twitched again. "I see."

Rachel nodded, and they fell into silence again; the


blonde shifted a couple times, but kept her gaze on
the brunette, who sank lower and lower into her chair.
The unwavering attention was a little discomfiting. Not
to mention, arousing. It was making the diva a tad
bit…squirmy. She fought to regain control of her
faculties.

So, they had established that Quinn still did not hate
Rachel, that they were both caught off-guard and
therefore handled things poorly, and the cheerleader
had said she knew what she wanted to say. Although
she still hadn't actually said it. The brunette opened
her mouth to voice the query when she realized
something else the blonde had said. Her eyes
bugged.

"Wait, did you say you thought you were dreaming?"


she blurted. The 'that I confessed to being madly in
love with you' part was implied.

The corner of Quinn's mouth curved upward into a


smirk resembling the ones Santana often gave
Brittany, Rachel thought. Bats were suddenly flapping
around in her stomach and a flush was creeping up
her neck.

"It wouldn't have been the first time," the blonde


purred, and Rachel thought she might just die.

She'd known Quinn was sexy (obviously), but when


she talked like that, it sent heat straight to her core
and—wait, was Quinn flirting with her?

Her cheeks were flaming when she stammered,


"Uh…y-you said that you were going t-to say
something. B-before I left, that is. I-I'm sorry I
interrupted at the time, but if you'd still like to say it,
I'm here and listening." She smiled sheepishly.

The head cheerleader's head tilted as she considered


the brunette across from her, and Rachel promptly
crossed her legs. Why did she have to keep looking at
her like that?
"Stand up," Quinn ordered, doing so herself.

Rachel flapped her jaw. "What?"

She'd wanted to tell her to stand up? That didn't make


very much sense. She'd already been standing and—

"Stand."

Twisting her shirtsleeves anxiously, the singer obeyed


the command, sliding her chair back in out of habit
and smoothing out her skirt. She nearly leapt out of
her skin when she realized how close Quinn was now
standing to her, the proximity sending another wave
of heat over her body and goose bumps over her
arms. She was suddenly thankful for her cardigan.

The blonde kept edging closer, and Rachel backed


the little space she had left until her thighs hit the
table behind her. She grappled at the edge of it and
peered nervously up at Quinn, who was leaning
toward her. The action may not have seemed
menacing except for the predatory smirk on the
cheerleader's lips that the brunette had come to fear.
She leaned back as far as she could.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

She really hated stuttering, and it was all she seemed


to be doing today. Quinn's smirk grew.
"I've always been more of an 'actions' person," she
said lowly, and Rachel only had about a nanosecond
to try and figure out what she was talking about,
because the blonde eclipsed the distance remaining
between them and kissed her.

It took Rachel a moment to realize that that was what


was happening. After all, it wasn't every day that
Quinn Fabray cornered her in a library cubby and
kissed her. Hell, it wasn't every day that Quinn Fabray
kissed anybody, let alone girls. Let alone Rachel
Berry.

Fortunately, the fact that Rachel had confessed her


love for Quinn rather recently seemed to have given
the blonde the confidence she needed not to be put
off by the brunette's lack of response; her lips stayed
firmly against hers, working until she suddenly
seemed to realize what was happening and pressed
back into the head cheerleader with gusto. Rachel
quickly hooked Quinn in her arms, swinging them
around her neck and keeping her in the kiss—though
she didn't really seem to be planning on going
anywhere, since her hands were currently squeezing
the brunette's sides and tugging her flush against her
body.

When the diva grew bold, slipping her tongue along


the seam of the perfect pink lips she'd been
fantasizing about for…well, ever, Quinn moaned into
her mouth and Rachel thought it was the most
beautiful sound in the world. Until the blonde stepped
back, out of the kiss, and she panicked immediately,
wondering if she'd moved too quickly. The feeling was
multiplied when Quinn turned away, toward the door,
and Rachel was just about to apologize when the
cheerleader pushed it shut and then turned back to
the brunette with that predatory smirk and glint in her
eyes. The sight of it sent a shudder down Rachel's
spine and she was struck speechless for quite
possibly the first time in her existence.

She had no idea it was possible to feel this happy. Or


this aroused. She was practically humming with both
emotions, and if the slightly goofy, crooked grin Quinn
shot her before she dove in for another scorching kiss
was any indication, she was feeling just about the
same way.

This time it was Quinn who was looking to deepen the


kiss, and they both moaned when their tongues met.
The blonde searched for dominance immediately, and
Rachel willingly gave it up to her, only asserting
herself with a nip to the lip when her counterpart
pulled away for air. Quinn's eyes darkened at the
gesture and she made a sound that Rachel thought
sounded fairly similar to a growl, and it sent another
chill down her spine. She went to sooth the spot with
her tongue, but before she could get close, she felt
firm hands grabbing at her rump and lifting her onto
the table.
She yelped, but the sound was muffled when Quinn
yet again claimed her lips and then tugged at her
thighs, bringing tanned legs around her waist until
they were flush against each other. Rachel moaned at
the feeling of the cheerleader pressed tight against
her heat and squeezed her with her legs. Quinn
moaned again, as she had when the brunette slipped
her tongue along her lips, and the diva decided to
classify it as the blonde's 'happy' moan. It sounded
distinctly delighted. And Rachel wondered how on
earth this was actually happening.

She definitely wasn't dreaming. The nails scraping


lightly up and down her back, underneath her shirt;
the insistent lips and tongue worshiping and
devouring at her mouth; the silky tendrils caressing
her fingers as she wove them through; and the warm
body pressed tight against her were all evidence to
suggest that this was, in fact, really happening. The
question was how. How had Rachel Berry gotten
lucky enough to have this, the least likely of all of her
dreams, actually come true? She knew she shouldn't
look a gift horse in the mouth, but God, really? Quinn
Fabray was kissing her? And would probably be doing
a lot more in the near future if the sounds she was
making were any indication?

It was then that Rachel realized that they were


moving fast—extremely fast. They hadn't even gone
on a date yet. Unless…maybe Quinn didn't actually
want a date. Maybe this was her way of telling her
she was attracted to her and she was looking for a
one night (or one lunch, in this case) stand. Maybe—

"Is this clear enough for you?" Quinn suddenly purred,


and Rachel shuddered as she felt her breaths
washing over her lips, just centimeters away.

She wanted to say 'yes, please God, don't stop


kissing me,' because God. Quinn's lips were even
more amazing than she had imagined them to be.
She was beyond perfect, and Rachel wanted her so
much it was becoming a physical need, or at least it
felt like it. But she hesitated, because…well, she
didn't want to be a quick lay, and even though it was
clear Quinn really did feel more than friendship, it
wasn't clear what her intentions were.

Quinn sensed her hesitation, and that happy smirk


she'd been wearing faded a tad. She backed off—not
out of Rachel's arms, but just enough for Rachel to be
able to breathe, at least. The brunette smiled
gratefully, feeling her cheeks heat even more when
the blonde started caressing her hair out of her face.
She felt a grin coming on, but swallowed it back in
favor of regaining her breath.

"What does this mean, Quinn?" she asked quietly,


and the blonde sighed, running her fingers through
the hair at Rachel's temple.

"I like you. I…." She dropped her hand and her gaze,
swallowing audibly. "I might…l-love you."

Rachel's heart swelled and she felt a grin blossom on


her face, despite that 'might.' Quinn could actually
love her back. This was positively the best day ever.
Including when she saw 'Wicked' with her fathers in
New York and saw Idina Menzel going into the
bathroom afterward.

"I can't say that's what it is right now, but if the way I
feel when you smile at me means anything, then it's
definitely heading in that direction," Quinn said
hurriedly, her cheeks going an adorable shade of
pink. She winced. "Please don't tell Santana I said
that."

Rachel grinned, and her heart felt like it was going to


burst right out of her chest when Quinn smiled back.
She stroked the blonde's hair that she'd decidedly
messed up, trying to pet it back into place.

"Your secret is safe with me," she assured her


teasingly.

Quinn's smile widened, and she leaned in for another


kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling back just
enough to look into the brunette's eyes. She nudged
their noses together lightly, bringing a smile to
Rachel's face.

"So, you like me. I love you," Rachel said, seriously


considering both statements and what that meant.

It took her a moment to notice the blindingly gorgeous


grin Quinn was giving her. She couldn't help but smile
back.

"What?"

"Just…that. You saying that to me," she said shyly,


blushing again.

The brunette felt another goofy grin coming on. "Well,


it's true. I love you."

She was expecting another of those beautiful smiles.


Instead she was nearly knocked back onto the table
with the force of the kiss Quinn landed on her. She
had to abandon her hair stroking duties in order to
keep herself from falling back to the wood with a thud.
And from squashing her lunch. She was kind of
hungry, come to think of it.

Oh, well. Rachel would happily go hungry for one


meal if it meant she could keep kissing Quinn.
Despite the fact that having three nutritious meals a
day was a very important part of one's adolescent
years. She wondered if Quinn had eaten yet, though.
She couldn't have that. The blonde needed to stay fit
and healthy for her active schedule and—wow, she
didn't know anyone could curl their tongue like that.
She let out a little whimper, at which point Quinn
started crawling over her on the table. She pushed
her lunch bag out of the way and started to give in to
the cheerleader's pressing when a familiar voice
interrupted their heated makeout session.

"Oh, hell no. If I don't get to have sex on that table, no


one does."

Quinn jerked away from her lips and the two


scrambled off the table, hurrying to straighten their
tops and skirts while Santana and Brittany looked on
with smug and happy smirks, respectively. Rachel
didn't know about Quinn, but she felt about as red as
a tomato at that moment.

"I knew they would get together!" Brittany squealed,


clapping happily.

"Yep, you called it, B," Santana acceded gently, then


narrowed her eyes at Quinn. "'Bout time you grew
some balls."

The head cheerleader rolled her eyes.

"May I just point out that that is physically impossible


for any female to—oh." Rachel flushed, but it was
tempered by a smile when she felt Quinn's arm slide
around her shoulders.

"Did you give her the tickets?" Brittany asked brightly.


Rachel frowned. "Tickets?"

Santana huffed. "Are you a moron? Seriously?"

"Look, we had other things to discuss," Quinn said


defensively, ducking when Santana went to smack
her upside the head. "And would you stop doing
that?"

"Would you stop being a dumbass?"

"What tickets?" Rachel blew out impatiently.

"Brit told you to do that part first," Santana growled.

"It was going to be so romantic," Brittany confided to


Rachel, pouting.

The Latina rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Yeah, it was


going to be all corny and shit. You would've loved it.
And Q messed it up. Again."

"Well, it might've been nice to have a little warning


before Rachel dropped the L-bomb on me the first
time I 'messed it up'," Quinn hissed, and the brunette
shot her a wounded look. She hurriedly bent to kiss
her cheek, almost reassuringly, leaving a smile on her
face instead.

"Please, like you would've believed me? You had your


head so far up your own ass—"
"San," Brittany said gently, and she huffed.

"Fine. But she's still a moron."

"I beg to differ," Rachel cut in, lifting her chin. "There
are few students in this school with as many
extracurricular activities as Quinn who are able to
maintain such a high GPA, and—"

Santana rolled her eyes. "I meant emotionally, Two


Shoes."

"It's not her fault she was raised in an environment


which encouraged the notion that natural human
emotions are unacceptable and—"

"I think you have a new nickname, Little White


Knight."

Rachel frowned. "That is not in the least insulting,


other than the obvious indication that I am less than
female. However, you have far better nicknames to
express that particular idea. Are you feeling well?"

Quinn let out a low, throaty chuckle and Rachel


leaned into her with a happy grin. Santana, on the
other hand, pursed her lips and glowered at the diva.

"Sure it is. I'm insulting your height, of course." She


scoffed. "You need that horse to reach Barbie's lips."
There was a brief halt in conversation while even
Santana internally rolled her eyes at herself. Brittany
grinned.

"She didn't mean it as an insult," she confirmed.

"Did, too."

"Did not."

"I'm hungry," Quinn commented, ushering Rachel


toward the door.

"I did, too!"

"Me, too," Brittany agreed. "Do you think they'll have


noodles again?" She bounced on the spot.

"Whatever you do, don't eat the meatballs," her fellow


blonde cautioned.

She looped her arm over Rachel's shoulder again


after she had gathered the book and her lunch bag.
She quickly shoved the book on a shelf after a
particularly frightening glare from the librarian.

"I so did mean it as an insult," Santana muttered as


they left.

"Is anyone going to tell me what tickets you were all


talking about?" Rachel asked impatiently.

"Took you long enough to ask," the Latina replied. "I'm


surprised you didn't start strip searching us."

Quinn sighed, reaching into waistband of her


Cheerios skirt and handing two tickets over to the
brunette. The other two peered on while Rachel
quickly read over them and then promptly squealed,
throwing her arms around Quinn's neck.

"Tickets to 'West Side Story' at Mershon Auditorium?


How did you get these? They were sold out when I
went to the website," she said excitedly, grinning up at
the blushing blonde, who glanced uncomfortably at
Brittany and Santana.

Santana grinned cheekily. "Go on, tell her, Q." She


leaned close to Rachel's ear, clasping her hands
together mockingly. "Your wittle sweetie bear—"

"Shut up, San! I…I just went to get them after school
last Thursday when I heard they were selling them.
That's why I was so impatient when you asked me to
stay after," she explained sheepishly. "I was going to
get four tickets, but after you told me…you know, I-I
thought it could be our…our first date." Even her ears
were red.

Brittany squealed and crushed Rachel in a bear hug


before the brunette could do just that to Quinn. "I told
you it was romantic!"

"She forgot the part where she had to drive all the
way to Columbus and back, waited in line for six
hours—in the cold, in her Cheerios uniform, and, oh,
yeah, what else did you do? Get into a fistfight with
some guy who cut in front of you?" Santana mocked,
grinning wickedly. "Whipped."

"You got into a fistfight?" Rachel gasped.

"It wasn't a fistfight!" Quinn yelped, cheeks so red


Rachel was a little worried. "I…he cut in front of me
and I told him to get out of the way and he wouldn't so
I shoved him. No big deal." She whirled on the Latina.
"And you said you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Mayor Munchkin isn't 'anyone,' and you have to give


me some mocking rights," Santana retorted.

Brittany smiled. "She's just making sure everything is


out in the open with you guys. Plus, she thinks it's
sweet, too."

"I do not."

"You are absolutely the sweetest person, Quinn


Fabray," Rachel said happily, and reached up to kiss
her.

After a few moments, Santana cleared her throat.


"I'm going to pour water on you like a couple of cats in
heat if you don't stop humping each other in public."

Quinn rolled her eyes while Rachel blushed,


burrowing under the blonde's arm.

"Can we go to lunch now? The noodles might all be


gone," Brittany pointed out, a little panicked at the
idea.

"Right, let's get going," Santana said, linking pinkies


with her blonde counterpart as they headed down the
hall.

Rachel smiled up at Quinn, pressing a quick kiss to


her lips before they followed after them, the blonde
with a blissful smile on her face. They reached the
cafeteria doors a moment later and Rachel hesitated,
tugging briefly at Santana's arm. The Latina eyed her
critically, but stopped obediently—for once. Quinn
frowned back at them.

"You coming?"

Rachel bobbed her head. "We'll be along in a


moment."

Quinn smiled and bent down for another kiss. She


tilted their foreheads together and whispered against
her lips, "I love you, Rachel Berry," before scurrying
after her fellow blonde. Rachel's grin could've rivaled
the sun's brightness. Her gaze lingered on her
girlfriend's retreating form for a moment before she
turned her attention to her fellow brunette.

"All right, what do you want, Two Shoes?" she


grouched. "I swear if you talk for more than two
minutes, I'm going to sock you in the face. I've always
been curious to see how well you can sing with a
bruised lip. And won't it be fun to go on your first date
with Goldilocks without—"

"Thank you, Santana."

The taller of the two eyed the other for a long


moment, surprised by the briefness of that statement.
Rachel smiled a little, and Santana privately thought it
was the most genuine smile she'd ever seen the little
diva give. Her lip quirked of its own accord, though
she tried to shove it back down.

"Yeah, don't get used it," she said harshly, trying not
to betray herself.

Rachel grinned. "Shall we?"

And they rejoined their girls side by side, still privately


smiling to themselves.

*************
Rachel always rides shotgun in Quinn's car.

Even though they're not friends.

Even though Rachel's dating Finn and Finn almost


always rides with Kurt in Kurt's monster SUV.

Even though Rachel has such a bad sense of


direction she still gets lost on the way from her locker
to the auditorium sometimes, and they've been in high
school for three years already.

It's just, whenever everyone has to go anywhere


together, Rachel goes in Quinn's car. And she rides in
the front seat.

No one remembers how it first happened-Santana


especially doesn't remember why the hell she has to
ride bitch while Manhands gets to sit in the front-but
that's how it is, and no one questions it.

Sometimes Finn goes with Puck in Puck's ancient,


creaky, gonna-break-down-any-minute truck, and
clearly Rachel's never going to get into that fire-trap.
Maybe that's how it started? But Rachel's never
ridden with Mike in his nice, normal, safe Volvo
station wagon, or with Artie in his van and Artie is by
far the most careful driver in all of Ohio. She's never
gone with Brittany in her adorable yellow Mini even
though everyone agrees she'd fit perfectly in the
backseat. She's ridden in Kurt's car plenty of times on
double-dates with Finn, Kurt, and Kurt's boyfriend du
jour, just not when New Directions has go somewhere
together. Not when Quinn is driving.

Sometimes Finn rides in Quinn's car, too, and it's


always awkward, not least because Finn has to cram
his huge long legs into the backseat, and even when
Rachel pulls her seat forward as far as it'll go it's still a
tight fit for him. But no one ever suggests that Finn
ride in the front where there's more room, because
that would mean that Rachel would have to sit in the
back seat, and that just doesn't happen. Not in
Quinn's car.

They don't talk to each other in the car, either:


whoever is in the back-and Quinn's car is always full,
even fuller than Kurt's, because Quinn is Quinn, and
she always has been, even when she was pregnant-
talks to Quinn nonstop and Rachel usually joins in,
but it's not like Rachel and Quinn are talking to each
other. Sometimes, they even kind of ignore each
other and just talk to the people in the backseat. Not
in an weird way, but they're not friends.

Rachel's in charge of the radio. To be fair, that usually


means Rachel takes command of all the iPods in the
car and picks music seemingly at random but by the
end it's always turned into the perfect high school
soundtrack, tailored to whatever's going on in their
lives right then. Rachel always asks Quinn's
permission first, even though Quinn has never
complained. Quinn might have even offered Rachel
control, the very first time, but now no one
remembers.

Quinn usually asks Rachel for directions, and when


Rachel gives them she listens and nods and instead
of a left at Richmond like Rachel says to, sending
them clear to the other side of town and also to the
wrong side of the highway, she takes a right on Main
and a few shortcuts that lead directly to where they're
going. Rachel must notice that Quinn never listens to
her directions, that Quinn always already knows how
to get there, but she never says anything. And when
Quinn asks again the next time, as if she genuinely
needs the information, Rachel gives suggestions like
she's not going to get them lost. Sometimes, though,
Quinn takes Rachel's suggestions and they do get
lost. Not lost, Rachel says, on an adventure, and I've
never been to this part of town before, have you? But
nobody complains about Rachel's directions when
she's in Quinn's car, and nobody contradicts her,
either. Not much, anyway. In any case, Quinn always
gets them to where they're headed eventually, no
matter where Rachel's sent them this time, and
besides, getting lost in Quinn's car is pretty much the
most fun you can have on a weekday afternoon in
Lima that doesn't involve Puck or alcohol. Or both.

Sometimes, on the way, Rachel will need to stop


somewhere to run an errand, to pick up snacks or dry
cleaning. Often, she needs sheet music. Quinn will
unerringly take them to the closest supermarket, or
the best music store, or the place that Rachel gets her
skirts cleaned, and then Quinn waits in the car while
Rachel runs in to do whatever she needs to do.
Rachel doesn't mind if people stay in the car or go
with her-Santana and Brittany always stay, Tina and
Mike always go with Rachel-but Quinn sits patiently
until Rachel is finished, and then they head off to
wherever it is they're supposed to be going.

And when they meet up with everyone else and pile


out of the car smiling and dragging along Rachel's
library books and newly released Cast Recordings, no
one says anything, even if Quinn's car is late, again.

Rachel never asks to go with Quinn. She never has,


and she probably never will. It's just, by now,
everyone knows: Rachel is going in Quinn's car. Of
course she is.

Quinn's never said anything about it, either, positively


or negatively. Not that anyone can remember. It's not
like she's ever said, "You're coming with me,
Stubbles," and glared everyone into submission. But
Rachel always goes with her anyway.

Which is good, because it's the only thing Quinn has


of Rachel right now, and she's not giving it up.

******
Title: Are You Ten Years Ago?
Major Characters/Pairings: Quinn Fabray-Puckerman,
Beth Puckerman, Noah Puckerman, Jr., Jasper
Puckerman, Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson/OC,
Mentions past: Quinn/Puck, Rachel/Puck,
Rachel/Quinn
Minor Characters/Pairings: Mike/OC, Matt/OC,
Artie/Tina, Rachel's dads Mentions: Brittany/Santana,
Mercedes/OC, Kurt/OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU beginning after 'Funk'. Rachel got the
hell out of Lima, Ohio immediately after graduation,
breaking Quinn's heart in the process, and never
looked back. Now, ten years later, she's back and
Quinn is the one to show her the aftermath and the
pieces of what she left behind - all the while trying
desperately not to fall back in love with her ex-
girlfriend.
Warnings: Pre-story character death discussed in
detail.
Author's Note: Holy sweet Jesus, this took a long
time. I kept getting distracted by other things and it
just kept getting shoved on the back burner but now
it's done and here and I don't have to mess with it
anymore, yay!

-Chapter 1-

When Quinn Fabray Puckerman got the invitation to


her ten year class reunion in the mail she scoffed at it
and tossed it in the trash. Almost everyone knew what
happened to her and she knew what happened to
anyone she ever cared about in high school.

Finn went to OSU and met and married a woman


named Kelsey and moved back to Lima to teach gym
and coach sports at McKinley. Santana and Brittany
had miraculously made it out and were living a happy
life in Boston as a general surgeon and dance
teacher, respectively. Tina and Artie were still in Lima
and running their own pharmacy. Mercedes got
married and moved to New York as did Kurt where he
met his partner and once there Kurt re-teamed up
with Mercedes and they started their own clothing line
that was now being recognized all over the world.
Mike and Matt had both played college football before
they each got married and moved back to Lima where
Matt was part owner of a Chevrolet dealership and
Mike was managing a bank.

As for Rachel? Rachel Berry [Gold Star]? Rachel had


a Grammy, two Tonys, an Oscar nomination, an
Emmy, a failed marriage, and two albums under her
belt…and a little of Quinn's heart still clenched in her
fist after having brutally ripped the organ from the
blonde's chest.

Quinn stared at the discarded invitation for a few


moments longer before her trance was broken by the
cries of reality. Reality, this time, had taken the form
of her youngest son just waking up from his nap.
Stepping away from memories of head-Cheerio and a
short, brunette diva-to-be, and back into the mother
role, Quinn made her way from the kitchen and down
the hall to her sons' bedroom. Jasper looked up at her
with tears in his eyes and a wide smile at his mother's
presence. Quinn smiled back at her baby boy, sitting
up on his own (a new development and complete
miracle), and she picked the four-year-old up and
dried his tears. She wished he hadn't inherited Puck's
build because the boy was going to get even more
difficult to lift as he got older, the doctors and
therapists said. Quinn, however, was still holding onto
hope that he would continue get better and lifting
wouldn't even have to be considered.

The racecar themed clock on the wall showed 1:30,


meaning to Quinn that she had an hour and a half to
get to the store before school let out. She brushed
through Jasper's hair, grabbed her purse and Jasper's
bag, and slipped her shoes on. She made sure to lock
and deadbolt the front door and looked around
nervously before going to her van that was on its last
leg and lifting Jasper into his car seat and strapping
him in. The route to Pick-n-Save was one she could
drive with her eyes closed as was the path she would
take through the store with her eyes on the wallet in
her purse containing her employee card for that life-
saving 10% discount.

After getting Jasper into a cart and checking once


again that she had her wallet she headed inside and
nodded to each cashier with a small smile.
"Hey boss," they all greeted her.

"Couldn't stay away for one day, could you?" a young


girl just out of high school, Nicole, asked with a smile.

"I just missed you all so much," Quinn replied, her


tone sincerely bright. She smiled at the store manager
who was making his way up to one of the cash
registers. He gave her a big smile and patted Jasper
on the head, earning him a gurgle from the young
boy.

The blonde made her way through the store and was
in the boxed food aisle when Jasper started whining
and reaching insistently for his bag.

"What do you need baby?"

Jasper babbled incoherently.

"Use your words," Quinn said. She reached over to


grab a few boxes of macaroni and cheese.

"Want!"

"What do you want?" Quinn pushed the cart further


down the aisle and grabbed two boxes of generic
Hamburger Helper.

"Joo!"
"What kind of juice? Apple or orange?"

Jasper was quiet for a second and Quinn repeated


herself.

"Tell me baby, apple or orange?"

"App!"

Quinn smiled and kissed her son's forehead. "That's


my good boy. We're getting there, aren't we?" She
stopped the cart and rummaged around in the
backpack and pulled out an apple juice box and stuck
the straw in it. Jasper concentrated for a moment
before clasping it with both of his hands; Quinn kept a
hold of it until he was sure with his grasp and started
happily sucking away.

"What do you say to Mommy?"

"Mmm!"

"No, come on."

With the attention on her son, Quinn lost focus on


where she was headed and only looked up when her
cart collided with another. The sudden jar caused
Jasper to drop his juice box and promptly start crying;
Quinn groaned and muttered a soft "damn" under her
breath.
"I'm so sorry," she said in the general direction of the
other cart's driver as she knelt down to pick up the
juice box. Never one to waste, she pulled out a
cleaning wipe from the backpack and cleaned off the
box and wiped the straw with her shirt. It wasn't
sanitary but an extra juice box meant an extra thirty-
five cents and maybe it didn't sound like much but,
added up over time, it was enough.

"It's okay," a female voice came.

Quinn finally looked up at the other woman and the


friendly smile she intended to give turned into a look
of complete disbelief. This was not what she needed
right then. Or ever.

"Rachel…"

"Quinn…Hello, how are you?"

"I'm…" Quinn took a deep breath. 'Exhausted' didn't


cover it. 'Emotional wreck' wasn't really appropriate
for forced conversation. 'Stretched so thin that I'm
lucky if I get to sleep more than four hours
uninterrupted' seemed a little too detailed. "Fine," she
said when she exhaled. "How are you?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you," Rachel said with a


smile. "You look like you have your hands full."
Quinn looked down at Jasper who was again happily
sucking away on his juice box, his eyes a little red
from the almost-tantrum. Rachel didn't know Jasper.
She didn't know Noah Jr. She barely knew Beth. She
didn't know anything about Quinn's life anymore. They
hadn't spoken since just after graduation. 'Hands full'
was a complete and total understatement.

"Yeah," was all she could think of to say. "A little."

"I'm in town for a little vacation and of course the


reunion," Rachel said, still smiling, obviously unaware
of the look Quinn knew she had that screamed 'get
me the hell out of here'. "I haven't talked to anyone in
so long; it will be wonderful to get caught up."

"Everything's the same as you left it," Quinn couldn't


help but hiss, just enough venom in her voice for
Rachel's shoulders to drop a little and her smile to
fade.

"Not exactly the same," Rachel noted quietly.

"Puckerman!"

Quinn turned around at the sound of her married


surname and her boss approached her.

"Can you come in on Saturday?" the old man asked.

Quinn saw Rachel's eyes dart to the man's nametag


with "Pick-n-Save" etched on it.

"I…I don't know," Quinn said. "I would have to ask my


babysitter."

"We need to get the inventory finished up and put into


the computer. You're the best one I've got for
inventory, you know that. You get double overtime."

Quinn sighed. She needed the money and she knew


someone in town would be able to watch the kids, she
would just have to work her way through her list of
friends.

"I'll do it."

"You're a life saver, sweetie. Tell whoever rings you


up to give you an extra ten percent off, okay? Dinner
still on for Wednesday?"

Quinn nodded and smiled appreciatively. Her boss


knew her story. He knew her situation. He was like
the father she never really had. He and his wife
invited her family over for dinner on a weekly basis
and he told her how much she reminded him of his
daughter who had long since moved away from
home. He assured her that one day she would be
managing the store if she could get some college
classes under her belt. While she really appreciated it,
the foreseeable future didn't show her as manager of
anything. College was the last thing on her mind.
Even if she did get there, "Manager of Pick-n-Save"
wasn't what she wanted as a job title for the rest of
her life.

The blonde almost forgot that Rachel was standing


there until she turned around and the short brunette
was looking at her. The expression on Rachel's face
was unreadable. She'd just found out more about
Quinn than Quinn ever intended for Rachel to know.
First and foremost that…

"So you and Noah?" Rachel finally asked.

Quinn swallowed hard. Puck wasn't something she


talked about. Not anymore. So all she did was nod.

"That's…good for you guys," Rachel said with a smile.


"I'm happy for you. How long have you been
married?"

Quinn was stunned. The thought hit her that if Rachel


didn't know they were married then she also didn't
know…anything else. The blonde wondered exactly
how often Rachel spoke to her dads. It wasn't like
they didn't know, either. Everyone knew.

"About a year after graduation," Quinn said, "I got


pregnant again we figured if we were going to keep
having kids together we might as well get married so
we did. Speaking of which, I need to go. School lets
out soon and I still have shopping to do. Nice seeing
you." Sure that the answer would pacify the diva's
curiosity, Quinn gripped tight to the handlebar of her
cart and fixated her gaze ahead. The familiar burning
behind her eyes intensified a little as her peripheral
vision caught Jasper with a smile, his father's smile,
and she pushed the cart forward to get away from any
more questions. Any more reminders than she
already had.

She was stopped by a soft, small hand on her arm.


"Quinn, I haven't seen you in ten years! I know…I
know things weren't left on the best of terms but I
would like to see you while I'm here. Would you like to
have dinner this week?"

"I have three kids, Rachel. I can't just go out and have
dinner."

"Can't Noah watch them?"

Silence. Deafening silence as Rachel obliviously


looked into Quinn's eyes, now brimmed with tears,
and smiled a little.

"No, he can't," Quinn said softly. "I have to go."

Quinn ignored Rachel's call to her as she walked


toward the dairy case and wiped away the tears that
had slipped out of her eyes. She avoided Rachel's
gaze when they met as she walked up and down the
other aisles and got what she needed. Rachel gave
her a little wave while Quinn was at the registers and
the blonde tried desperately hard to hide the piece of
plastic with "Ohio State Benefit Identification Card"
stamped on it as she handed it over to Nicole as well
as her employee card. She looked over her shoulder
at Rachel who was walking by slowly with that look on
her face when the cards were handed back. The look
that Quinn had seen so many times when she would
hand over her card and someone behind her would
see it and her with her kids. The look of sympathy for
a young, exhausted mother handing over her
government assistance card.

It took Quinn four tries to get her van started and she
sighed and made a note to take it to Burt Hummel
when she got the chance. She knew he either
wouldn't charge her if it was something he could just
fix right there or he wouldn't tack on labor if he had to
order parts. Quinn had resigned her pride long ago
and she would always take whatever she was given
by those that offered their help: Car service from Burt,
discounts at the store, free babysitting from Finn and
Kelsey, offers of great deals on cars she knew she
couldn't afford from Matt, discounts on what she had
to pay out of pocket for the kids' prescriptions and any
supplies Quinn needed for Jasper from Tina and
Artie, breaks and extensions on payments at the bank
from Mike. From her parents? A glance at each of the
Puckerman children if they were seen in public before
shaking their heads and turning away. It was usually
followed by a growl from Beth before she took Noah's
hand.

The blonde really, honestly felt sorry for her only


daughter. It wasn't Beth's fault that she had been born
first and the responsibility for Noah came with it more
than Quinn wanted it to. The twelve-year-old girl had
dark brown hair and hazel eyes, the only one out of
the three to get her mother's eyes, and she was the
single most patient person that Quinn knew. Beth
knew how to deal with Noah's mood swings and how
to keep him calmed down if it was one of those days
when the boy didn't want to deal with his life. What
nine-year-old would want to live the life he was in?

The first stop after the grocery store was the


elementary school, Noah climbed in the back and
took his seat next to Jasper and buckled in. He
crossed his arms over his chest and let out an
exasperated sigh, telling Quinn that today hadn't
exactly been ideal.

"How was your day, sweetie?" Quinn asked once she


was out of the elementary school traffic and headed
to the middle school.

"Fine," the young boy answered with a distinct growl.

"What's wrong?"

"Stupid career day is next week."


"Oh." Quinn paused. "Why don't you see if maybe one
of your aunts or uncles could come in? I'm sure Aunt
Tina or Uncle Artie would come in and talk. Or maybe
Uncle Mike could talk about all the money at the bank.
I could talk to Uncle Matt or Mr. Hummel and see if he
would come talk about cars?"

They went through the same thing last year. Luckily


Santana came in on vacation and Quinn convinced
her to go with Noah and talk about being a surgeon.
She was the best one there, Noah had said, because
she talked about guts and gore and blood in vivid
detail and even got the Lima hospital to let her bring
in some of their preserved organs. Unfortunately, the
Latina had already said she wasn't going to be in town
anytime soon.

"I want Aunt Santana to come again."

"She's not going to be here Noah. I'm sorry but we'll


have to find you someone else."

Quinn sighed at her son's defeated groan. "I guess


Uncle Mike would be cool if he brings us all a
thousand bucks."

"I wish, baby."

Beth quickly hopped into the van when Quinn pulled


up at the middle school. The girl waved goodbye to
her friends and shifted uncomfortably in her seat as
they drove away.

"How was your day, baby girl?" Quinn greeted her


daughter.

"It was okay. The class hamster got loose so we had


to chase it all around the school until we got it." Beth
smiled. "And Jeremy Hutchins smiled at me."

"Jeremy who, now?"

The girl giggled. "Jeremy Hutchins. He moved here a


couple months ago. Bailey says that Jessica told her
that Nathan said he overheard Naomi and Ashley
talking that they heard Jeremy tell Kyle that I was cute
and he liked me and he might ask me to the spring
dance."

"Wait now, what? Repeat that again in English."

"Jeremy moved here a couple months ago and he


might ask me to the spring dance."

Quinn blinked a few times and gripped onto the


steering wheel. "A boy…asked you to a dance?"

"No, he might ask me. But the dance isn't for like a
month."

"Is he nice?"
"Yeah. He's really quiet."

Quinn grimaced a little at the thought of any boy being


near her baby girl. She knew her daughter was only
twelve and these things were going to start happening
but as a mother who had said daughter when she was
sixteen, she had every right to be concerned.

"I want to meet him if he asks you," the blonde said.

"Mom it's just a stupid dance."

"I know…but a mother can never be too careful."


Quinn smiled.

"Is it okay…I mean… if he asks me could you maybe


take me to his house?"

Quinn nodded silently. Beth was at the age where she


knew she didn't live in the nicest part of town. They
barely lived in a decent part of town. Beth and Noah
weren't allowed off of their street because two blocks
to the east was the part of town that they heard sirens
come from almost every night. Quinn knew that the
twelve-year-old was aware that everyone that lived in
her neighborhood and on her street were renting
cookie-cutter houses built by the government and that
everyone had that little plastic card they used at the
grocery store. Quinn dreaded the day when Noah
really started to get it because he was just enough
like his father that, despite his small stature, he would
deck the first kid that said anything to him.

Once home, Noah scrambled to the front door before


Quinn could yell at him to grab a bag of groceries.
Beth made sure to grab a few bags on each arm so
Quinn could get Jasper in one arm and the remaining
bags with the other. She handed the keys to Noah to
let him open the door and the blonde got the two
oldest kids settled at the kitchen table with their
homework and Jasper in his chair with a puzzle while
she put away the groceries.

"What do you guys want for dinner?" she asked. "I


picked up some macaroni and cheese, we could do
that and hot dogs. Or I got the cheeseburger
Hamburger Helper that you like."

Beth shrugged. "Whatever's easiest, Mom." The


young girl smiled up from her homework momentarily
before going back to it.

"Hot dogs!" Noah said with a grin.

"Hot dogs it is!" Quinn smiled and went to the kitchen


cupboard to pull out a sippy cup for Jasper but a
knock at the door made her stop.

"What the…" the blonde wandered into the small


living room and peered out the peep hole of the front
door cautiously. She growled when she saw a short
brunette standing outside her door. She opened it just
a crack, enough to stick her head out.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?"

Rachel looked extremely nervous as a police car went


flying up the road. The brunette glanced around at her
surroundings and swallowed hard.

"I looked you up in the phone book."

"Mom, who is it?" Beth called.

Quinn sighed and turned a little to call back to her,


"Don't worry about it. Do your fractions!"

"Was that…was that her?" Rachel asked with a small


smile. "Beth?"

Quinn nodded. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you. I was thinking maybe I could


take you and the kids out to dinner tonight. My treat."

"I don't want your charity, Rachel."

"I'm not doing this for charity. I'm doing this because I
want to. Where do they like to eat? I can get a
reservation anywhere."

"Rachel, don't…"
"Please, Quinn. I'm pretty sure you deserve the
break."

Quinn knew the look in Rachel's eyes. It was sincerity.


It was the look that Rachel didn't have on her face
when she ended things. The blonde quickly weighed
the options and her ten-year-old grudge against the
star was overpowered by wanting to talk to someone
that didn't already know everything about her - plus
the fact that this was one meal she could save for
later.

"They like Denny's," Quinn said. "Noah's pretty picky,


that's the only place he'll eat."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows.

"Noah Junior."

"Oh!" Rachel smiled. "Will Noah…the first one…will


he be joining us?"

Quinn shook her head. "No." How Rachel could still


not know was beyond her. Surely she'd seen other
people they went to high school with or her dads
would've told her. Apparently not.

"Okay," Rachel said. "Denny's at six?"

"Sounds good."
-Chapter 2-

Quinn shut the door quietly and stared. She was


either going to regret this heavily…or just a little.
Either way, for her, it wasn't going to be a winning
situation. The kids, however, were ecstatic. Noah
finished his homework quickly and Quinn sent him to
change his clothes while she helped Beth finish her
math. At the sound of Rachel's name Beth furrowed
her eyebrows and Quinn told her that yes, it was that
Rachel. Beth had one very short, very vivid memory
of playing with Rachel when she was little. It was two
days before the then-aspiring star left for New York
City; Quinn remembered watching the scene just as
Beth remembered being in it. Beth changed into her
dress jeans for the occasion an Quinn sighed when
they came up about two inches short on her ankles
thanks to a recent growth spurt.

"We'll turn them into capri pants," the blonde said


when Beth threw the pants back into her closet. "I'll
have your Nana Puckerman get them hemmed up,
okay? Wear one of your sundresses. I'll see if we can
get some new jeans this weekend."

Beth nodded and went through her sundresses and


picked out a white dress with pale blue flower designs
and a ribbon around the waist. Quinn helped her tie
the ribbon on the back just perfectly and she put the
girl's thick hair in a braid. Jasper managed to get
crayon on his white shirt five minutes before they
needed to leave and was uncooperative when Quinn
went to change him. It took another five minutes to
get Noah settle