Kurt didn't really like the gay scene – what there was

of one, anyway, which wasn't much – in Lima. But

there was one bar that had a monthly queer-friendly
night that was actually pretty awesome. There was
usually a good mix of gay, straight and everything in
between. They had a bit of a stage show going on as
well, and Kurt had idly contemplated getting up on
stage himself once or twice, but he'd not done it - yet.

He was leaning on the end of the bar, sipping at a

coke – checking out the crowd and just enjoying the
night. He'd seen a cute guy earlier, a bit short but
definitely hot, his age and a sharp dresser which Kurt
could always get behind. He was pretty sure the other
guy had noticed him as well, because their eyes had
met and he had definitely smiled at Kurt. He seemed
to have disappeared though, which was
disappointing. Maybe he'd turn up again later, it was
still early.

“Okay, guys,” the announcer was saying from the

edge of the little stage. “We've got a treat for you
tonight. I'd like to introduce Berry Rayson, a seriously
hot young singer who's making his debut for us
tonight.” She grinned out at the crowd. “And if anyone
likes the look of him you'd better make your move fast
or he might just be coming home with me. Put your
hands together for Berry with 'Sexy Back!'” She
stepped back and the lights dropped leaving just one
spot on the center of the stage.
The music started up, and onto the stage strolled –
the guy Kurt had been checking out earlier. He'd
taken off the tailored jacket he'd been wearing before
and had it hanging over his shoulder, dangling from
one finger. His shirt collar was open and his sleeves
were rolled up. He was wearing a hat tipped down low
over one eye and his pants were seriously tight.

He threw a smouldering look in the direction of the

announcer and stood in the center of the spot, head
down, nodding just a little to the beat and tapping one
toe. Then he lifted his face and started to sing,
strutting across the stage as if he owned it – which he
did, for the length of the song. His voice was low and
husky, perfectly pitched. It seemed kind of familiar to
Kurt actually, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it
before.

He didn't dance, just swaggered across the stage,

swinging his hips in time to the music, hands moving
along with the lyrics. He picked out a few punters and
sang parts of the song to them as well – guys as well
as girls, which gave Kurt hope. Of course, maybe he
was just playing up the song, but damn if the guy
didn't look hot up there, strutting his stuff.

The song ended, and Berry stood in the middle of the

stage for a moment, accepting the applause that was
only his due, before bowing cockily and stepping
down from the stage and towards the bar. The
announcer stepped back up.

“And that, people, was Berry Rayson. Let's hope he'll

favour us with more of his vocal stylings some other
time, huh?” Kurt tuned out as the announcer started
to welcome the next act, because Berry Rayson was
heading his way. In fact, Berry Rayson was standing
right next to him, jacket still slung over his shoulder,
one thumb hooked into the belt loop of his jeans. He
was still breathing a little hard from singing, slightly
flushed, and Kurt thought he looked absolutely
delicious.

Berry smiled at him. “Hey,” he said, and his low voice

was so quiet Kurt had to strain a little to hear him.
“Buy a guy a drink?” He raised an eyebrow and Kurt
just nodded silently, too surprised to say anything.
Berry turned and caught the bartender's attention,
pointing to Kurt's drink and holding up two fingers.
Then he turned back to Kurt, sidling a little closer.

“So,” he asked, a hint of a smile playing across his

lips. “Do you come here often?” He sounded amused,
but then, delivering that line, who wouldn't be?

Kurt nodded, and then remembered that he should

probably be talking. “Yeah, every month. Haven't
seen you here before though.”

Berry smirked. “Haven't seen me anywhere,” he

drawled. “This is my first night out.” He winked.
Kurt blinked, confused for a moment, but was
distracted by the arrival of their drinks. He pushed a
note at the bartender, and handed Berry his glass.
Their fingers brushed and Kurt almost dropped the
glass.

Berry jerked his head sideways, indicating a booth

that had just emptied.

“Come on,” he said. “Before someone else grabs it.”

Kurt followed obediently, sliding into the booth to be

joined by the other guy. Berry hadn't chosen to sit
opposite him either, he'd slid in on the same side and
they were sitting so close together he could feel the
heat of the other boy's leg through his jeans.

“So,” Berry said, leaning a little closer. “You like it,

huh?”

Kurt, mouth suddenly dry, could only nod and blink

owlishly. Berry leaned in a little further. He paused for
a second, eyes searching Kurt's, and when he
seemed to find what he was looking for, closed the
last distance between them and pressed his lips to
Kurt's.

His lips were soft, and he smelled good, like cherry

shampoo. The kiss was over almost as soon as it had
started, and and when Berry leaned back and grinned
at him, Kurt could only sit there, lips slightly parted.

“So, what do you think?” Berry asked. “You're very

quiet.”

Kurt blinked again.

“I, er, I ... It was nice?”

“Just nice?” Berry scowled, and pulled off his hat. His
hair fell down his back, luxurious curls that reached
almost to his waist and Kurt couldn't hold back the
squeak of surprise as suddenly, the hot guy sitting in
front of him was transformed. Into Rachel Berry.
Berry. Rachel – Rayson. Of course.

Rachel blinked back at him, confused, and then her

mouth dropped open in shock.

“You didn't know!” She said, suddenly using her

normal voice again. “Really? You weren't just playing
along? I thought that you were entering into the spirit
of the performance! I certainly would not have kissed
you if I had realised that you were labouring under the
misapprehension that I was actually a boy!”

“Oh. My. God.” Kurt said, finally regaining his voice.

“Rachel? Seriously?”

Rachel smirked at him, and suddenly he realised that

'his' cockiness was just as familiar as his singing
voice.

“Yes,” she said. “Seriously. I thought that it would be

an interesting challenge, singing as a male – men are
completely different to women, you know, how they
walk, how they use their hands, where they sing from.
It was very challenging.”

“I know,” Kurt said wryly. “Men, women. I have

noticed the difference.” Suddenly he was grinning and
bouncing in his seat. “Rachel! You have to do this for
the rest of the club. If I didn't recognise you there's no
way any of the others will.”

Suddenly shy, Rachel bit her lip and looked away.

“I don't ... I don't know, Kurt. I mean, what if they think

I'm weird?” She laughed bitterly. “No, never mind that.
What if they think I'm even weirder than they already
do?”

Kurt rolled his eyes at the girl.

“Shut up. It'll be hilarious.”

“Well, I ...”

“If I thought you were hot,” he said slyly, “just think

what the others will think.”
Rachel gave him a confused look.

“But ... You're the only gay guy,” she reminded him.

“I know that!” He said, flicking his fingers at her

dismissively. “I meant the girls.” He looked down,
inspecting his fingernails, and then looked back up at
her through his eyelashes. “More specifically, I meant
Quinn.”

Rachel blushed, and it must have been some serious

blushing because Kurt could see it even in the dimly
lit booth. She didn't protest though, so he continued.

“I've seen the way you look at her, when you think no-
one's looking. I don't blame you – I'd look too, if I liked
girls.”

Rachel bit her bottom lip, and looked away from him
for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked
back at him.

“Okay. I like Quinn. I don't know why because she's

annoying and she's been terribly mean to me in the
past and it always hurt more from her because I liked
her even then but she's being nicer now and ...” She
took another breath. “You really think she might notice
me? Notice Berry, I mean?”

“Hell yeah, I think she would,” Kurt said smugly,

leaning back on the bench and grinning at Rachel.
“You, as a guy? Are smoking hot. I mean, you're hot
when you're not a guy, but there's something about
that Berry Rayson act that'll have that girl all over
you.”

Rachel looked thoughtful, and reached up to coil her

hair back on top of her head, tucking it neatly under
her hat. She shifted slightly, and suddenly Kurt was
looking at Berry Rayson again. He had no idea how
she did it – he'd just watched her, and he still couldn't
say. But she – no, he – had changed somehow, with
nothing more than a hat and a subtle shift in the way
he was sitting.

“So,” he drawled, tracing the wet rim of his glass with

one finger. “You think Quinn'll like what she sees?”

He raised an eyebrow, and all Kurt could do was nod,

suddenly dry-mouthed again.

“Good,” he said decisively. “Then we've got some

planning to do.”

------

Kurt went over to Rachel's house the next weekend,

more than a little curious. He'd never been to her
place, and he'd never met her dads. Of course he was
curious – in twenty years he could be them, raising a
carefully-planned kid with a life-partner. He wasn't
sure if the idea was appealing or terrifying.
It was Rachel that answered the door, though, not
Berry, a fact for which Kurt found himself grateful,
although if he was honest also a little disappointed.
He found it hard to think straight around Berry – the
guy was hot. But the guy was also a girl, and it just
hurt his head to try and wrap his brain around the
situation – so it was much more comfortable not to
have to try.

She led him through the house, introduced him briefly

to her dads, who were sitting in the kitchen having a
good-natured argument over breakfast juices, and
took him upstairs to her room. He was surprised to
find it was actually almost tasteful – sunny yellow
walls, lots of light. There was a bit of pink glitter,
because well, she wouldn't Rachel if there wasn't, but
it was actually not too bad.

“Right,” he said, taking a seat on the end of her bad

and crossing his legs, looking up at her expectantly.

“Show me what we've got to work with.”

After their encounter, they had talked over what their

plan was – and Kurt had been adamant that the first
thing to do was get Berry some clothes he could party
in. Puck had his house to himself that weekend and
inevitably, he was throwing a kegger and everyone
was going to be there – they reckoned it would be a
good time to introduce Berry. Rachel had cried off,
claiming she had to work on her solos, and Kurt had
mentioned in passing that he'd be bringing a friend.

Berry's stage look was sharp, Kurt admitted that

happily, but he also said it wasn't right for partying,
and Rachel had agreed. Which was why they were
about to go through Rachel's wardrobe, looking for
anything they could use.

“Not much, probably,” she said ruefully, pulling open

the doors of her closet, and revealing an awful lot of,
well, skirts, And argyle. And pantsuits.

Kurt sighed. This may, in fact, have been a total

waste of time.

“You know what,” he said, “I don't think we should

even bother. Let's just go shopping.” He grinned
happily. Make-over! There was nothing he loved more
than a make-over, and he never got to give a guy a
make-over.

Rachel grinned back at him. No-one ever wanted to

go shopping with her. Unless it was to pick out
costumes for Glee numbers, and that wasn't exactly a
social outing.

“I suppose I should change?” She asked. “If we're

buying things for my male persona, I should be in his
body – I bind and pack, of course, so my body shape
is totally different.”
Kurt blinked, and nodded. Rachel beamed at him, and
skipped happily into her bathroom, leaving him sitting
on the end of the bed, wondering what exactly he was
getting himself into. Rachel was probably the most
honest person he had ever met – there didn't seem to
be anything she wouldn't talk about. Which was,
admittedly, not always a good thing.

She was back in just a few minutes, wearing a white

undershirt, grey socks – and a pair of snug boxers
with little pictures of Tweety all over them. Kurt
snickered. Rachel pouted. She liked her Tweety
boxers – they made her smile.

It was weird, Kurt thought, watching her as she dug

through her wardrobe. With her breasts flattened and
a distinct bulge at her groin, she should have looked
like a guy – but she didn't. She hadn't done whatever
it was that she did to become Berry. She pulled on a
plain grey t-shirt, and the trousers and jacket she'd
been wearing before, slipping her feet into plain black
loafers.

She was still Rachel though. It wasn't until she coiled

her hair up under her hat, that she did whatever it was
that she did and suddenly, Kurt was looking at Berry
again. And he still couldn't tell how she – no, he again
– had done it.

“It's the hat,” he told him. “I feel like Berry when I have
this hat on.”

Kurt shrugged slightly. He supposed that made

sense, in a weird sort of Rachel way.

They left the house, pausing again in the door of the

kitchen to say good bye to Rachel's dads, who looked
mildly surprised. Kurt noted with interest, though, that
it was 'Bye, Berry', not 'Bye, Rachel'.

Then it was shop, shop, shop for the next few hours.
Kurt had dragged Berry into every single store in
Lima, it seemed, by the time they had finished. But he
was pleased with the results, Berry was definitely
ready to party. Tight jeans were paired with second-
hand Converse hi-tops they'd found in a vintage store
– new stuff would be a dead giveaway, Berry had
pointed out – and a vintage band tee they'd found in
the same store. Shirt over that with the sleeves rolled
up, and of course the hat.

“You'll do,” Kurt said, nodding at the ensemble. “So.

Let's do this.”

Berry took a deep breath, checked himself over in the

rear-view mirror of Kurt's car one last time, and
nodded. They got out of the car, rang the doorbell,
and waited for someone to answer. Berry fidgeted
nervously, until Kurt turned him by the shoulders,
adjusted his hat, and gave him a stern look.
“You're hot,” he said. “Now, stop fidgeting, and go get
her.”

Berry nodded, and allowed a cocky smile to pull up

the corners of his lips.

“Who's the guy with Kurt?” Quinn asked, as they

walked into the house. He was cute.

“No idea,” Puck shrugged. “He just said was it okay if

he brought a friend. I figured why not – although if
they start makin' out where I can see them ...”

Quinn shook her head at him, amused, and turned

away. He always had to make like the idea of two
guys together was so gross – she wondered
sometimes if he didn't press the fact a little too hard.
Still, the guy with Kurt was hot – short, maybe, and
his mouth was perhaps a little too pretty for a guy, but
he had lovely dark eyes. And the way he walked – like
he owned the room. That kind of confidence was a
serious turn-on. But the guy was here with Kurt, which
probably meant that he was with Kurt, so what was
the point?

“He's hot.” That was Santana, leaning over her

shoulder and muttering in her ear. “Pity he's with Kurt.
Maybe all he needs is a good woman, huh?”

Quinn rolled her eyes at her, and laughed.

“Maybe. I'm going to say hi.”

When Quinn started heading towards them, Berry

took half a step backwards, only to be stopped by
Kurt's arm which was loosely draped over his
shoulders.

“Oh, no you don't,” Kurt muttered into his ear. “I didn't

go through all that shopping for you to bail on me.
Man up!”

So Berry squared his shoulders, tipped his hat down a

little further, and aimed his best cocky smile at the
blonde approaching them. If he was going to do this,
then he was going to do this. Berry was. He was
confident, he was hot, and he was going to get the
girl.

“Hi, Kurt. Hi, Kurt's friend.”

Kurt grinned. “This is Berry Rayson – he doesn't know

anyone so I said I'd introduce him around. I may be
gay but I still know all the hot girls.”

There. That should deal with any rumours that Berry

was Kurt's boyfriend – and to judge by the way
Quinn's eyes lit up, it had. Kurt knew Quinn wouldn't
be able to resist Berry. Unless his gaydar had blown a
fuse - and it hadn't - Quinn couldn't resist Rachel, not
that she knew it herself, so Berry would be the perfect
bait. It was flawless.
“Right,” he said. “I'm going to go and find where
Puck's hidden the fruity drinks, can you two entertain
each other? Excellent.” And without waiting for an
answer, his disappeared, leaving Berry and Quinn
looking at each other slightly startled.

“You know,” Quinn said. “I'm tempted to think Kurt is

trying to set us up.”

Berry smirked. “Oh, I know he is. He said that there

was an attractive blonde who might like the look of
me. I see he was right.”

He gave Quinn a smirk as she laughed at his vanity.

Well, it was true, she did like the look of him.

“He didn't do you justice, though,” Berry continued.

“You're very beautiful.”

Quinn blushed, because his dark eyes swept over her

and she could swear she could feel a wave of heat
following his gaze.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked. Quinn nodded,

and let him take her hand and drag her into the space
that had been designated the dance area.

Berry pulled her against him, loosely, and they began

to sway in time with the music. He really wasn't very
tall, she noted idly, realising once they were standing
so close that she was actually slightly taller than him.
He was a good dancer though, resting his hands
lightly on her hips and guiding her in time with the
beat. The song was over much too fast for Quinn, and
Berry pulled away from her with another of those
cocky smiles that seemed to be his trademark.

“I'll get us a drink,” he said, running a hand gently

down her bare arm. His fingers were very soft, she
noticed. Nice. Not like Puck or Finn, who always
seemed to have rough skin, but more like the way she
thought Kurt's hands would probably feel – or the way
her own did.

He turned on a heel, and left her standing on the edge

of the dance area, trying to catch her breath. The boy
was ... intense. The way he looked at her ... She liked
it. A lot.

“Why were you dancing with Rachel?” Brittany was

standing next to her, giving her a curious look. “I
thought you didn't like her like that?”

Quinn blinked at the blonde, confused. “Rachel? I

wasn't dancing with Rachel. That was Kurt's friend
Berry -” She broke off as soon as she said the name,
eyes flying open wide. Berry. Berry Rayson. Rachel
Berry. Holy ...

“No,” Brittany was saying, oblivious to Quinn's sudden

revelation. “That was Rachel. She is dressed as a
boy, though, isn't she? I wonder why. She looks
handsome, though – if you don't want to dance with
her, I will.”

Quinn shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

She'd just been crushing on Rachel Berry. Only not.
This was confusing. Sure, Rachel was actually pretty
hot when she thought about it. Which she totally
hadn't. She had that kissable mouth and seriously
intense eyes, and okay so her confidence was
annoying as hell but it was actually kind of attractive
and ... And those were the things she'd noticed first
about Berry Rayson.

“No, I ... Thanks, B. Um, talk to you later, okay?”

She headed off, intending to find Rachel and give her

a piece of her mind – and then she saw her. Or
rather, she didn't. She saw Berry Rayson, leaning with
one hand on the back of a sofa, laughing with Kurt at
something Finn was saying. He had that hat dipped
down low again, so she couldn't see his eyes, but she
could see his mouth, open in a laugh, flashing straight
white teeth. She could see the strong line of his neck,
and following down, a flat chest – and a definite bulge
in his pants. Dear sweet Jesus. Rachel had really
gone all out, hadn't she?

Thing was – even though she knew it was Rachel,

she still saw Berry Rayson. She still liked what she
saw. She still ... Dammit, she still wanted Berry. She
stalked over to the boys – not even noticing that she
had automatically lumped Rachel into the same group
as Kurt and Finn – and put a hand on Berry's
shoulder.

“Sorry, guys. I'm borrowing Berry.” And she curled her

fingers into his shirt and dragged him out of the room,
up the stairs, through a guest room, and into the
bathroom. She didn't let him go – and hell, she
couldn't stop thinking of him as him, and he looked so
hot all flushed and confused – until she'd locked the
door behind them.

"Quinn, what are you -”

Quinn silenced Berry with a finger to his lips. She

didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear that low
voice that was, now she knew, familiar and unfamiliar
at the same time. So she kissed him. Kissed him to
shut him up, kissed him because she didn't want to
have to answer that question, kissed him because,
damn her, she wanted to.

His lips were soft, of course they were, and although

his arms flailed uselessly at his sides for a moment it
wasn't long before he moaned throatily into her mouth
and brought his hands up to wind his fingers into her
hair. Shit. She was really doing this. She moved her
hands up in between them, running her fingers up his
arms, and down over his chest. It didn't feel quite like
a guy, but it didn't feel anything like a girl.
She curled one hand around the back of his neck, and
slid the other down between them, further down, until
she was cupping the bulge in his pants. He jerked
against her, eyes flying wide in surprise.

“What -”

Quinn didn't let him speak, kissing him again and then
fixing him with a stare.

“Shut up, Berry.”

“Quinn, I'm -” Another kiss.

“Seriously, Berry. Shut the hell up.”

Rachel moaned, her protests forgotten, as Quinn

kissed the side of her neck, flicking her tongue over
the skin. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on.
This really seemed out of character for Quinn –
dragging a guy she'd only just met into a bathroom for
a heavy petting session – but then Quinn's hand
massaged his - her - cock again, and she lost her
train of thought. Fuck, she didn't even know what
gender she thought she was any more. It was just a
lump of sculpted silicon, but when she looked down
she could almost feel what Quinn was doing. Hell, she
could feel it because as Quinn moved it rubbed
against her. Then, Quinn dropped to her knees and
began flicking open the buttons on her – his – pants.
“Quinn, seriously, I -”

Quinn actually growled. “Shut. The fuck. Up, Berry.”

With that, she reached into his pants, and pulled out
the prosthesis Berry had strapped onto him. Her
expression didn't change, even though it was now
obvious that it wasn't real. Rachel was confused, but
then Quinn looked up, licked her lips, and bent
forward to take the tip of the silicon cock into her
mouth. All coherent thought fled.

Quinn still didn't know what she thought she was

doing. Blowing Rachel Berry in a bathroom? Except
she wasn't. It was Berry Rayson and even though the
cock in her mouth wasn't real, the groans of the guy
above her were, and the pounding ache between her
legs told her that it just was. She realised that the
cock in her mouth had some kind of stiff rod running
through it, and pulled it upwards. It actually looked
pretty realistic, standing proudly up out of Berry's
open fly, and she wrapped her lips around it and
bobbed her head down again.

Rachel was transfixed. Quinn Fabray was on her

knees with Berry's cock in her mouth, looking as if she
was enjoying it. It didn't matter that she couldn't feel it.
She could see it, and it was almost enough to make
her come right there. Problem was, it wasn't enough,
and she was getting more and more frustrated with
every bob of Quinn's head.
“Quinn,” she – he – said roughly, pushing Quinn's
head away from him. His knees went weak when she
looked up – lips red and wet, eyes dark. She was
breathing hard and it couldn't just be from having to
breathe around his cock. “Quinn, can we – would
you ...” He took a deep breath and remembered that
he was confident, dammit. Quinn was there because
she wanted to be, there was no other explanation for
it. He reached down to adjust himself back inside his
pants, and pulled her up onto her feet.

“Bathrooms just aren't romantic,” he said, running his

thumb over her cheek. “What do you say we move
this to somewhere a little more private? I've got my
house to myself.”

Quinn blinked at him, instinctively pushing her face

into the stroking. She should say no, but ...

“Yes. Please.”

They made their way quickly and silently away from

the party, hands linked together, and walked the short
distance to Quinn's car. They didn't speak on the
journey either, aside from Berry's low-voiced
directions, until they pulled up outside his house. He
gave her an intense look as they stood outside his
door, before putting one hand over hers.

“Are you sure?” He asked gruffly, and when she

nodded silently, he nodded back at her, and ushered
her into the house.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, they looked silently at each

other for a moment, and then he was on her, kissing
her, pushing her back towards the bed. Quinn
moaned. She hadn't seen this side of him at the party
– he was too surprised. But she liked this, he was
direct and demanding. His lips were firm on hers,
tongue demanding entry, and his hands were all over
her.

He slipped his hands up under her dress, skimming

his palms over her thigh and cupping her ass through
her panties. He squeezed softly, massaging each
buttock gently, and she pressed forwards against him
with a sigh. He felt so good. He turned her around
and lifted her hair forward over her shoulder, dropping
light kisses onto the back of her neck as his nimble
fingers flicked open the buttons at the back of her
dress. He kissed down her spine as the dress fell
open, covering each bit of skin with his lips as it was
revealed. When the dress was undone, he pushed it
off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

Quinn shivered as the fabric slithered down her body,

but then she was shivering because Berry was
pressing himself up against her back, hands running
around her, stroking, his lips brushing over that spot
on the back of her neck that always made her knees
weak. He noticed, because he was biting down on the
spot and she was whimpering high in the back of her
throat and suddenly, her bra was hanging loosely and
his hands were cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing
over her nipples which were so hard they hurt.

“Berry,” she whimpered as he squeezed her nipples

and pressed against her back, his cock firm against
her ass, the soft worn cotton of his shirt rubbing
against her. “Berry, please, I -” And his hand was in
her panties, brushing through her neatly trimmed
curls. She keened as his fingers slipped lower,
brushing across her clit and finding warm slick folds
and she would have fallen forwards if it hadn't been
for his arm across her chest.

It didn't matter though, because a moment later he

was pushing her forwards, and her knees hit the bed
and next thing she knew she was on all fours and he
was pulling her panties down her legs and pushing
her legs apart and then, oh god, his tongue was right
there. This had happened a couple of times before,
but it didn't feel like this. Because it was never from
behind, because it was never Berry (Rachel),
because it was – and then a tongue was pushing into
her and she stopped thinking, couldn't think.

She was gasping and lifting her hips, pushing back

into the delicious lips and tongue behind her, when
suddenly, it stopped. She looked over her shoulder,
breathing hard, confused and just a little worried.
Berry smirked back at her, lips and cheeks glistening,
and Quinn blushed. That was because of her.

“Give me just a moment,” he said, rising to his feet,

cocky grin firmly back in place. “Just stay there,” and
his voice dropped even lower, “and think about what
you want me to do to you.”

He stepped quickly across the room and into what

she assumed must be the bathroom, and Quinn bent
her arms, letting her head drop down onto the soft
comforter with a groan. She had been so close, and
the damned tease was leaving her. But he'd said to
think about what she wanted. How could she think
about anything else after that? Besides, where had
Rachel Berry learned that? An image of Rachel on
her knees, tongue worshipping some faceless woman
skipped across her mind and she moaned again, a
wave of arousal and jealousy washing over her.
Jealousy? She didn't even recognise it for what it was
then, although she would later, and the image was
enough to occupy her while she waited.

Rachel shut the bathroom door behind her, leaning

against it and running one hand over her face, looking
at her fingers with a smile. That was – for her. Her
face fell slightly. No, that was for Berry, Quinn had
made it quite clear, every time she had tried to stop or
talk that she didn't want to know. That she wanted to
pretend Rachel was really a boy. That was why she
had pushed Quinn down onto her face, so that she
didn't have to remember that it was a girl doing these
things to her. Fine. Rachel would give her boy.

She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants
and boxers, although she left her shirt and tee on.
Then the harness that held her cock. It was snug
enough to keep it in place, but not for what she had in
mind. Besides, she had a toy that she hadn't thought
she was ever going to get the chance to use on
anyone other than herself and she wasn't going to
pass up the chance to use it.

She pulled it out and looked at it, running her fingers

over it's surface for a moment, before coating her
fingers with lube and running them over the toy until it
glistened. She pressed it up between her legs,
suppressing a wince. The part that went inside her
was bigger than the other end – shorter, but wider, to
ensure that it stayed in place. It didn't hurt as much as
she had expected though. She was absolutely
drenched, and as she took a step towards the door
and the toy bobbed in front of her, she had to stop for
a moment to control the throb of pleasure that shot
through her.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her hat, and it was

Berry who stepped back into the room.

Quinn heard the door open, and turned her head to

look and her eyes widened. Who knew that Rachel
Berry had one of those? Berry smirked at her and
fisted a hand over the end of the silicone cock that
now jutted from him, bigger and wider than the one he
had been wearing before, and slid his fist down and
up a few times, eyes closing in pleasure.

He stepped over to the bed and between her legs,

and Quinn tensed up. That thing was huge. It wasn't
as if she was a virgin – hell she'd pushed a baby out
of her – but that was months ago and she hadn't had
sex in a long time. Then she felt a soothing hand on
her back, stroking down her spine and lightly over her
ass.

“I won't hurt you,” came that low voice, and then the
hand ghosted lower, finding slick folds. One finger slid
gently, oh so gently inside her and she whimpered,
needing more. It was quickly joined by a second, and
then Berry's other hand was there too, finding her clit
and pressing down on it, little rhythmic pulses that
had her rocking backwards to press into his fingers.
The fingers inside her curled and pulled, and she was
gasping and lifting her hips into them, when suddenly
they were gone and something large and cool was
pressing insistently at her. She forgot that she was
afraid and pushed back against it and then it was
slipping inside her and those talented fingers were
pressing harder against her, circling her clit, and it
hurt a little but it felt so good that she didn't care.

“Oh god,” she gasped “oh god, oh fuck, don't stop,

please don't ever stop,” and she was pushing back
into it, hard, biting down on the comforter. She was so
close. Then Berry's other hand reached around her
and cupped her breast and she looked down and it
wasn't Berry's hand at all. It was Rachel's hand, small
and delicate, tan against her pale skin, and she bit her
lip and gasped as Rachel pinched her nipple gently.

Oh dear sweet Jesus. Rachel Berry was fucking her

and it was the best thing she'd ever felt.

She came undone.

Rising up onto her knees she pressed back into the

body behind her, clutching Rachel's hand to her and
reaching blindly back with the other one, knocking the
hat off and tangling her fingers in the long curls that
fell out from underneath it.

“Oh god, Rachel, I, fuck, I'm -” and then she couldn't

talk any more because the climax hit her. It didn't
matter that as soon as she spoke Rachel stopped
pumping the dildo into her, because her fingers were
still moving and oh fuck she was coming so hard she
was literally seeing stars.

Rachel froze as Quinn spoke. She'd just screamed

her name. Her name. Not 'Berry', not just 'oh god' and
'oh fuck', but 'Rachel.' Then Quinn sagged in front of
her and she wrapped her arms around her, lowering
her to the bed carefully, pulling out of her. She stood
there, trembling, on the verge of coming herself, biting
into her lower lip with a troubled look in her eyes.
Quinn turned her head weakly, and her heart almost
broke when she saw the look on Rachel's face. This
wasn't the confident facade she'd been wearing all
evening, this was a girl who was scared that she'd
done something terrible.

“Rachel,” she said softly, pulling an arm out from

underneath herself and holding a hand out to her.
“Come here.”

Rachel took two steps towards Quinn, and took the

offered hand. Her fingers were shaking, and Quinn,
using reserves of strength she didn't know she had,
managed to sit up and pull the little brunette to her.
Silently, she reached between Rachel's legs and
pulled the dildo gently out of her. Rachel shuddered
and cried out and Quinn's fingers were soaked by the
time she dropped the toy to the floor.

Still without speaking, Quinn pushed the shirt down

Rachel's arms, then took the hem of the tee and
pulled upwards, pulling it up over her head. Rachel
held her arms up like a little child and the look on her
face was still enough to make Quinn want to cry.
Under the tee she was wearing what looked like an
undershirt and it took Quinn a moment to find the
opening at the side. When she had, and Rachel was
naked in front of her, she tugged the girl towards her
again, guiding her to lie on the bed next to her.
She ran her fingers gently over the cruel marks the
tight binder had left on Rachel's skin, and the brunette
whimpered softly.

“You're beautiful, Rachel,” she whispered, realising in

that moment that she had always wanted this,
somewhere hidden away. Rachel looked at her with
wide, dark eyes, lips parted and vulnerable, and
Quinn kissed her. It wasn't like kissing Berry had been
– her lips were still as soft, but she was shy, tentative,
and Quinn had to coax her.

Quinn moved her lips, kissing softly over Rachel's

cheek and to the tender point under her jaw, then
whispered in her ear.

“You made a hot boy, but I want you more.”

Rachel moaned, at the words, at the kiss, at Quinn's

breath against her ear, and then Quinn nipped sharply
at her earlobe and the moan became a gasp. Quinn
lowered her head, kissing down Rachel's throat –
Rachel shuddered when Quinn's lips passed across
her collarbone and Quinn filed the little fact away –
and down across her chest. She ran her lips gently
across the soft swell of one perfect breast, trying to
kiss the red marks away, before taking a dark nipple
between her lips.

She had no idea where this was coming from. She

didn't know what she was doing, she just knew what
she wanted to do – and what she wanted to do was
make Rachel feel as good as she had felt herself. She
just hoped she would be enough – Rachel had been
so amazing. Quinn was almost completely
inexperienced and she'd never been with a woman.
Rachel was gasping and muttering meaningless
sounds though, so she must be doing something
right.

Quinn ran a hand down Rachel's stomach. When she

passed over Rachel's belly button the smaller girl
tensed up and took a breath, so rather than play with
the indentation the way she had been intending to,
Quinn continued running her hand down. Rachel
relaxed.

Expecting to find tight curls, Quinn was surprised to

find nothing but silky-smooth skin. She ran her fingers
curiously over Rachel's smooth mound until the other
girl was gasping and lifting her hips off the bed, legs
falling open, and Quinn's fingers slipped a little lower
and into dripping folds. Rachel keened softly and
clutched at the back of her head and Quinn smiled
around the nipple between her lips.

Then she bit down softly and Rachel yelped, her hips
jerking. This wasn't so hard, Quinn thought. The angle
was a little different but she'd touched herself –
although not often and never without guilt and why did
this feel so right when she knew it was so wrong –
enough times to know where everything was. She
circled her fingertips softly around Rachel's clit and
experimentally bit down again. Rachel let out a loud
moan.

“Oh oh, Quinn. Harder, please, just -”

Quinn wasn't sure what she meant, so she bit down a

little harder, and pressed her fingers a little harder,
and Rachel's back arched off the bed as she yelled.
Quinn, pleased, looked up at her and moved her hand
back up Rachel's body – she knew how sensitive she
got herself and she didn't want to hurt her.

Rachel's eyes flew open, and then her own hand was
between her legs, moving furiously, and she arched
harder and bit down on her lip. Then she started
shaking and Quinn, furious with herself, realised that
she had stopped too soon. Shit. Way to fuck up,
Quinn Fabray.

Rachel relaxed slowly, pulling her hand away and

looking down at Quinn with a lazy smile on her lips.
Quinn looked away, embarrassed and angry with
herself. Rachel's smile faltered.

“Quinn?” She asked, and her voice was very small –

Quinn had never seen her so quiet. “Did I – I'm sorry.”

Quinn's head jerked around at that, and she saw that

look again. That heartbreaking vulnerable look that
she never wanted to see again.
“You're sorry?” She asked. “You're amazing. I'm the
one who has no idea what she's doing. And you had
to ...” She blushed.

“Oh!” The smile returned. “That's quite alright, Quinn. I

realise that new lovers often have to take some time
to understand each other's bodies, it's perfectly
natural. And I'm certainly not too shy to attend to
myself rather than pretend you are perfect – I'm sure
with time..” She trailed off. Maybe there wouldn't be
another time?

Quinn laughed softly at the typical Rachel-speak, and

failed to notice the worried pause.

“Amazing,” she said again, and moved up Rachel's

body to kiss her. Leaning back, she smirked at the
thoroughly ravished woman. “I like this way of shutting
you up,” she said, and Rachel was too pleased to be
offended at the thought that Quinn might be saying
that she talked too much. “I hope you won't mind if I
use it,” and she kissed Rachel again, “all,” kiss, “the
time.”

Rachel, speechless for once, simply shook her head.

Quinn smirked back at her, and raised herself on her

elbows, looking down at the beautiful woman she was
with. Right. She wasn't letting this end on that note.
She sat up a little and leaned in to kiss Rachel again,
harder this time, bringing her hands in between them
to cup Rachel's breasts, pinching the nipples a little.
Rachel purred into the kiss and Quinn smiled, pulling
away, to kiss down her body again.

Remembering Rachel's reaction when Quinn had

kissed her collarbones, and how she had liked having
her nipples bitten, Quinn scraped her teeth over
Rachel's collarbone, biting down hard enough to sting
a little, before soothing the little red mark with her
tongue. Rachel yelped and then moaned.

“Quinn, what are you doing, I just ..”

Quinn looked up at her. “And you're going to again. I

want you to tell me what you like. Tell me what to do.”
She smiled. “You like doing that.”

Rachel laughed weakly, and then yelped again when

Quinn bit her other collarbone.

“That,” she said, “I like that. And when you bit my

nipple – oh fuck.” She broke off mid-sentence
because Quinn had licked down her chest, and bitten
her other nipple sharply, swirling her tongue around it
to soothe the bite.

“Harder,” she whispered, and with a mental shrug

Quinn bit down, hard this time – much harder than
she thought she could possibly like herself.
Apparently though, Rachel did, because she grabbed
onto the back of Quinn's head and yowled. Quinn
smirked to herself, and began kissing her way down
Rachel's body, little open-mouthed kisses of teeth and
tongue, leaving red marks that faded slowly as she
went.

She reached Rachel's belly and licked a line down it,

carefully avoiding her belly-button.

“I don't like -” Rachel started to say, and Quinn

nodded.

“I know, baby,” she said, kissing her soft skin, and

then moved further down, pushing Rachel's knees
apart and settling between her legs. Rachel looked
down at her with those dark eyes wide and surprised,
blinking at both the endearment and the idea that
Quinn was about to go down on her. Quinn smirked
up at her before she leaned forward and planted an
open-mouthed kiss on her mound, lips and tongue
feeling how soft the skin was. Rachel must wax, she
thought idly, exploring the skin. Rachel was breathing
heavily, making little moans, and trying to push
herself up into Quinn's mouth.

"Please," she whispered. "Quinn, I need you."

Quinn took her mouth away for a moment and

smirked up at her.

"What happened to 'I just came'?" She asked smugly,

and Rachel blushed.

"You happened," she said with a breathy little gasp,

and Quinn's grin grew wider, before she dipped her
head again and ran an experimental tongue along
Rachel's folds. Hm. Not bad. Musky, a little salty - not
like honey or any of the other silly descriptions she'd
read (not that she had, much), but it wasn't
unpleasant.

"Fuck, Quinn," Rachel groaned. "Don't tease me like

that."

Smiling to herself, because this was Rachel, who

always knew what she wanted, Quinn ignored her
completely. Just because she wanted it, didn't mean
Quinn was going to give it to her. She kept on
exploring, tiny little kitten licks with the tip of her
tongue, broad flat sweeps, pressing, flicking, noting
what made Rachel purr, what made her gasp, what
made her hips jerk up. Quinn didn't want an especially
hard jerk to break her nose, though, so she wrapped
an arm across Rachel's hips, holding her steady.

Rachel was breathing hard now, the muscles in her

toned thighs flickering. She wrapped one leg around
Quinn's back and Quinn could feel the muscles
tensing and releasing against her. Quinn tilted her
head a little to the side and she must have hit an
especially sensitive spot because Rachel groaned
and reached a hand down, threading her fingers
through Quinn's hair to keep her in place.

Quinn looked up smugly to see that Rachel had her

eyes squeezed shut and was biting her lip, her free
hand draped over a breast, fingers pulling at her
nipple. God, that was hot. She pressed her tongue
harder, making little pulsing movements.

"Quinn," Rachel gasped, in between little panting

breaths. "You, your, inside me, please, I need you."

Quinn smirked, the movements of her lips eliciting

another gasp from Rachel. Bringing a hand up under
her chin, Quinn made lazy little swirls with her tongue,
and traced Rachel's entrance with the tip of one
finger.

"Don't fucking tease me," Rachel growled, and

Quinn's breath caught a little at the tone of her voice.
Holy shit. She had no idea Rachel had that in her -
she knew she could be demanding but usually she
was just so ... whiny. This was actually commanding,
powerful. She liked it. She liked it a lot, actually, which
was surprising.

"Quinn," and she was still growling. Quinn whimpered

softly, and pressed an apologetic kiss to the slick
bundle of nerves under her lips. She slid a finger
carefully inside Rachel, amazed at how tight and hot
she was. Jesus. If this was what it felt like for a guy,
no wonder they were all such sex maniacs.
"More," Rachel demanded, and Quinn obeyed, adding
another finger and pumping them slowly in and out.

"Curl your fingers," she gasped, hips lifting

rhythmically. "Just curl and un-curl - oh. Oh fuck,
Quinn, like - like that." Quinn did as she was told and
felt Rachel quiver around her. Then she had an idea.
Rachel hadn't asked, but ...

She bit down softly on Rachel's clit, trapping it

between her teeth and flickering her tongue quickly
over it. Rachel's back arched and her hand fisted
painfully in Quinn's hair but Quinn didn't care - it
meant she was doing this right. She curled her fingers
harder and felt Rachel clamping down around her.

"Fuck! Quinn, how did you, don't, I ..."

Rachel was gasping and writhing under her, it was

everything Quinn could do just to stay in place. Then
suddenly it was easy because Rachel went stiff under
her, muscles tensed. Her heel dug almost painfully
into Quinn's back and her stomach was quivering
under Quinn's arm.

"Don't stop! Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop don't

stop don't stop -" The words were a fast chant, so
breathy they almost weren't words at all. Quinn had
no intention of stopping. Then Rachel did - stopped
talking, stopped breathing even, and Quinn could feel
her pulsing around her fingers and twitching under her
tongue.

Her fingers were still tight in Quinn's hair, still holding

her in place, so she didn't stop. It was hard to curl her
fingers now, Rachel was so tight around her, but she
could move them a little, and she kept licking, until
suddenly Rachel squeaked and pushed away from
her, babbling almost incoherently.

"No, no, stop, please, don't, I can't, you, please, no..."

Quinn pulled her fingers out gently and sat up a little,
looking up the bed. Awestruck. Rachel was sprawled
out, tan skin shining with sweat, hair a tangled mess
that was sticking to her face, to her neck and chest.
She was flushed, panting. Quinn had never seen
anything so beautiful. She wiped her hand off on the
bedspread - it was pretty much ruined anyway - and
crawled up the bed, flopping next to Rachel, draping
one arm across the smaller girl.

With one convulsive movement, Rachel turned to face

her, and then went limp again.

"I," she said, face half-buried in the comforter. "I didn't

know it could be like that."

"Neither did I," Quinn said quietly, moving a damp

strand of hair that was tangling in Rachel's eyelashes
and tucking it behind her ear. Her voice dropped until
she was whispering, studying the beautiful face in
front of her. "Neither did I."

She sat up and reached down to the end of the bed,

dragging up the blanket that was draped there, pulling
it over them both. Lying down again, she curled
herself around Rachel, draping an arm around her.
Rachel made a small incoherent noise, and snuggled
in, burying her face in the crook of Quinn's neck, head
on her shoulder. Quinn chuckled quietly to herself -
that was usually her position. But she rather liked
being the taller one, having Rachel's head on her
shoulder. She dropped a soft kiss onto the black
curls, and closed her own eyes. She ached in places
she didn't know she could ache in, and she couldn't
entirely feel the tip of her tongue, and she was pretty
sure she was going to have a stiff neck in the morning
- but it was worth it. Rachel was worth it. She didn't
meant to fall asleep, but she did.

----------

Rachel awoke feeling hot and sticky, and her first

thought was to throw back the comforter. She
couldn't, though, and when she realised that was
because someone else's arms were outside the
blanket, pinning it down, the events of the previous
night came flooding back. She turned her head, eyes
wide, and yes. That really was Quinn Fabray sleeping
next to her, make-up smudged, hair half-out of it's
ponytail. Quinn had stayed. She vaguely remembered
her pulling a blanket over them, but it was a blank
after that. She must have fallen asleep - or passed
out. And Quinn had stayed.

She reached a hand out, tracing the lines of Quinn's

face wonderingly. She'd stayed. Quinn muttered
something wordless, and moved towards her, arm
reaching out for her, curling around her over the
blankets and pulling until they were curled together.
She made a small satisfied sound, and stopped
moving. Rachel smiled.

She was still too hot though. She lifted Quinn's arm off
her and slid out from under the blanket. Quinn made a
small sound of protestation and rolled over onto her
stomach, face buried into the pillow. Rachel stood and
smiled at her for a moment, and then headed into the
bathroom. Shower. She was sticky and probably
stank of sex. Of Quinn.

Quinn woke up with a start, reaching across the bed

and finding it empty. She sat up, eyes searching the
room - and not finding Rachel. Her face crumpled. Of
course she wasn't there. Why would she be? She
pulled her knees up under the blanket and folded her
arms over them, hiding her face in her arms. She'd
leave. She just needed to ... to pull herself together.

Then she heard the creak of a door opening and

looked up with a start. There was Rachel, wrapped in
a huge bath sheet that came down to her toes, with
her hair up in a ridiculous towel turban. She was wet
and glowing from her shower, and Quinn felt her face
break out into a huge smile.

"Sorry I didn't wake you," Rachel was saying, "but you

looked so comfortable and I thought why not let you
sleep, it's not as if we could both shower at the same
time. " She flushed. "Unless, ah. Yes. Anyway, there
are towels on the counter and I have an extensive
collection of products, please use whatever you like."

Quinn nodded, shyly climbing out from under the

blanket. It wasn't as if Rachel hadn't seen her naked
before. It was just - different. She flushed when she
caught Rachel staring at her, and Rachel blushed
back, giving a slightly nervous laugh. Quinn had to
pass Rachel to get into the bathroom, and she
paused in front of the little diva. She bent forward,
kissing her shyly, and was gone before Rachel had a
chance to say anything.

When she returned from her shower, Rachel was

sitting in front of her vanity, running a brush through
her mostly-dry hair. The towel had dropped down,
exposing her back, smooth and tan - no lines. Huh.
Quinn hadn't expected that. She stepped quietly up
behind her, and took the brush from her, running it
through her hair. Rachel closed her eyes and sighed,
turning her head to push into the brush as it ran over
her scalp. Quinn smiled, running her fingers through
the silky black locks after the brush. It was weird, how
natural this felt. It should have been awkward, but it
wasn't.

"You know," she said conversationally, scratching a

little at the back of Rachel's neck. "I was so relieved
when that hat came off and you still had all of your
hair."

Rachel laughed and opened her eyes, looking at

Quinn in the mirror.

"I will never be committed enough to an amateur role

to cut my hair," she said. "Perhaps professionally but
even then there would have to be a very good
reason."

Quinn's lips twitched. There was her Rachel again.

"Why did you do it?" She asked. "The whole Berry

thing."

"I, ah. It was Kurt's idea, really."

Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He saw my Berry Rayson act and said I should try it

out on you guys." She blushed a little and looked
away. "He said that you'd like me as Berry."

Quinn blinked.

"What, the glee club?"

"No," Rachel said, now blushing scarlet. "You." She
looked back and met Quinn's eyes again. "Kurt's more
observant than I'd realised - he said that he'd noticed
me looking at you. And that I should introduce you to
Berry."

"He'd - me?" Rachel had done that for her? Risked

everyone ridiculing her because of Quinn? Because if
it had gone wrong, they would have ridiculed her.
Hell, Quinn would have, even if now the thought of
some of the horrible things she had said to Rachel
made her feel faintly ill. She couldn't understand it.

"But I've been horrible to you, Rachel. How could

you ..."

Rachel turned on the stool, and took the brush out of

her hands, looking up at her seriously.

"I just do. And I forgive you for all of that - I know that
popularity is often cemented by a mutual putting-down
of the less popular." She laughed, self-deprecatingly.
"And I was certainly never popular. I'm annoying, I
have two gay dads, I'm not thin enough and my nose
is too big."

Quinn's mouth dropped open.

"Okay, you're annoying sometimes," she said, "and

the two dads thing is just a fact but your nose is fine.
And you do not need to lose any weight." She
frowned at Rachel. How could she think that? Her
body was amazing. Stunning. "You're perfect the way
you are."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Quinn

silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"One thing," she said with a soft smile. "You talk too
much. But I've found the perfect cure for that."
Bending down, she replaced her finger with her lips.
The kiss was soft to start with, but when Rachel
moaned into her mouth Quinn tugged her up.
Rachel's towel dropped off to pile around her feet and
Quinn shimmied out of hers, suddenly wanting
Rachel's skin against hers. She pressed up against
the shorter girl and it was her turn to moan as Rachel
wrapped her arms around her, and ran her fingernails
softly up Quinn's back.

She pulled them towards the bed, never breaking

contact with Rachel's delicious lips. Last night had
been intense - she wanted something else today -
and Rachel seemed to as well.

"I was terrified last night," Rachel confessed as they

tumbled onto the bed. She moved onto her side,
propped her head up on her elbow and looked
seriously at Quinn, free hand tracing lines up and
down Quinn's arm. Quinn mirrored her, tracing her
fingers across Rachel's throat and collarbones.
Rachel's eyelids fluttered for a moment.

"I've never been with, well, anyone. I was just making

everything up as I went along."

Quinn's hand stilled her lips parted as she stared at

Rachel. She'd never - then Quinn was - oh god.

"All that was..." She said, pausing to take it in. Then

she laughed. "Natural talent. You obviously have it in
more than just singing."

Rachel giggled and ducked her head. "Thank you. But

you ... Quinn, you were amazing. I've heard that
another person's touch is much more powerful than
your own but I'm pretty certain that wasn't the only
reason I climaxed so hard."

Quinn chuckled. Typical honest Rachel.

"I know it was you, for me," she said softly. "You were
incredible, Rachel. And I said it then but in case
you've forgotten - you were amazing, not Berry." She
winked. "Although you did catch my eye. Kurt was
quite right. But I realised that all of the things I found
attractive about him were the things I find attractive
about you. Not that 'd realised it until last night." She
closed the distance between them and captured
Rachel's lips again. "Thank you," she murmured into
the kiss.
Rachel purred and wrapped her arms around Quinn
again, rolling them over and climbing on top of her
without breaking the kiss. Quinn groaned at the slight
weight on top of her, running her hands up Rachel's
back and back down again, squeezing the firm globes
of her buttocks. Rachel sighed happily, and then
squeaked when Quinn playfully nipped her lower lip.

"I've created a monster," she joked, pulling back a

little and running her tongue over her lower lip. "I have
bruises all over today, and they're all from your teeth."

Quinn's brows drew together, but before she could

apologise, Rachel leaned back down to kiss her
again. "I like them," she murmured, trailing her lips
across Quinn's face, kissing her eyelids closed, and
then the tip of her nose.

Quinn sighed happily at the tender ministrations. It

was hot, as well, that Rachel actually liked the fact
that she'd marked her.

"I like you," Rachel breathed into her ear, and Quinn
shivered at the hot breath that brushed her skin. Then
Rachel was kissing her neck, nibbling, sucking at the
skin. There was going to be a mark there but Quinn
didn't care. She tilted her head to give the other girl
better access. She'd never let anyone give her a
hickie but here she was encouraging Rachel to.

She ran her palms up the brunette's back, loving the

way she could feel the toned muscles shifting under
the skin, but that Rachel's skin was so soft and silky.
Nothing like a guy. She curled her fingers, running her
fingernails down Rachel's back, pressing just a little.
Rachel hissed into the side of her neck, arching her
back up into the touch, and Quinn took the
opportunity to slip one hand between them while the
other continued to trace patterns on Rachel's back.

She cupped one firm breast, brushing her thumb over

the nipple which hardened almost instantly into a tight
little point. Wow. That was for her. The little gasp
Rachel made into her neck was for her as well.
Rachel pushed up onto her hands, and straddled her
hips, hovering over Quinn with her hair hanging down
around her face and screening them off into their own
little cherry-scented world.

"Again?" She asked playfully. "I thought it was only

guys that got morning wood?"

Quinn giggled and pushed her hips upwards. Rachel

sighed and pushed down against her and Quinn felt
wet heat against her abdomen. Quinn raised an
eyebrow.

"And you're accusing me of being horny," she said,

trailing her hand down Rachel's body and slipping it
between them, finger slipping through wetness. She'd
hardly done anything.
Rachel moaned and dropped her head forwards,
pressing down on Quinn's fingers.

"All your fault," she gasped.

"Me?" Quinn asked innocently. "You're the one who

was fucking me from behind last night, you little
pervert."

Rachel opened her eyes wide, mock offended, and

shifted to balance on one hand, sliding the other down
between them, combing her fingers down through
Quinn's curls.

"I'm the pervert?" She asked smugly when her fingers

found that Quinn was just as wet as she was. "What
does that make you?"

"Just as bad," Quinn agreed, curling her middle finger

and sliding it into Rachel, pressing down on her clit
with the heel of her hand. Rachel groaned, and
echoed her. Quinn's eyes fluttered shut and she
spread her legs as much as she could with Rachel
straddling her.

"Open your eyes," Rachel told her, low and husky. "I
want to see you. I want you to see me."

Quinn opened her eyes and almost had to close them

again at the look on Rachel's face - so open and
intense. It was as if the brunette was looking straight
through her. She shivered, and then Rachel curled
her finger and Quinn's hips bucked up as she gasped.

"Another?" Rachel asked, and all Quinn could do was

nod. Rachel added another finger and Quinn moaned,
the sound mingling with Rachel's gasp as Quinn did
the same. Rachel was moving over her as she thrust
her fingers in and out of Quinn, practically fucking
herself on the blonde's fingers as she moved. It was a
good thing, as Quinn didn't seem to have the
coordination to concentrate on Rachel as well as what
Rachel was doing to her. The sight of the little diva
above her, riding her, breath coming short and
making her chest heave, breasts quivering as she
moved, was blowing her mind. How could she not
have known? How could she have been blind to the
sheer deliciousness that was Rachel Berry?

Rachel leaned down to capture her lips in a fierce

kiss, all tongue and breathy moans.

"God," Quinn gasped into the kiss. "What you do to

me, Rachel."

"I know," Rachel said, pulling back and looking down

at her. "It's what you do to me," and she leaned down
and kissed her again, crying out into Quinn's mouth
as she tightened briefly around her fingers.

"Did you just ..?" Quinn asked, and Rachel shook her
head.
"No, but ... Oh. So close, Quinn. So - fuck."

She gasped and shivered and crushed her mouth to

Quinn's again and Quinn wasn't sure which was
turning her on more, what she doing to Rachel or
what Rachel was doing to her. She moaned into
Rachel's kiss and lifted her hips, spurring the little
singer on to move faster, harder, anything. Rachel
pulled all of the way out and then - oh god, she must
have three fingers in her and Quinn was still tender
from last night because it was almost too much.
Somehow, Quinn managed to twist her hand around
so that she could flick Rachel's clit with her thumb.

She had no idea how she was managing to do

anything while Rachel was doing such a good job of
breaking her into a million tiny pieces. She could feel
that delicious tension gathering low in her belly,
pooling up until something just had to give. But she
must have been doing it right because Rachel had
broken their gaze and had her eyes shut tight, biting
her lower lip and surging frantically above her. Then
her back arched and she went statue still again, aside
from her hand which was still slamming into Quinn.
She stopped breathing and a shudder shook her
body. Quinn could feel her pulsing around her fingers
again, and she curled them hard, as hard as she
could, and Rachel let out the breath she was holding
with a wordless cry.
The sight was enough to tip Quinn over the edge and
she cried out, tipping over just seconds after Rachel,
her long low groan of release mingling with the
echoes of Rachel's. The little singer collapsed on top
of her, fingers still inside her. She pressed her face
into Quinn's neck and Quinn could feel her lips
moving soundlessly against her neck.

"What?" She asked, quietly. "Rachel, what are you

saying?"

Rachel tipped her face sideways a little, although she

stayed where she was, draped on top of Quinn. Quinn
had no objections.

"I was just saying how incredible you are."

Quinn smoothed a hand up Rachel's back and into

her hair, smoothing the silky strands, enjoying the
cool feel of it against her fingers.

"If I'm incredible then you're un-real," she said.

"Please tell me that you don't have to do anything
today. Because if you make me get out of this bed I
won't be held responsible for my actions."

Rachel giggled and shook her head.

"Good," Quinn said, and shifted Rachel so that she

wasn't lying quite so much on top of her. "Because we
have a lot to learn about each other."
They had more to learn than could be achieved in one
day - but they covered a lot of ground in that day. It
was a very reluctant Quinn that dragged herself out of
Rachel's bed that evening and headed back to her
own home, dressed in some borrowed clothes of
Rachel's. Not anything argyle, and there were no
knee-socks - but Rachel did have sports clothes that
weren't too tight on Quinn.

"We'll see each other at school," Rachel said, when

Quinn turned in the doorway for one last kiss. "In less
than twelve hours."

"I know," Quinn said. "But I can't do half of the things I

want to do to you without getting us both suspended."

Rachel giggled and pushed her away gently. "I really

have created a monster, haven't I?" She didn't sound
even slightly remorseful.

"Yeah, you have," Quinn agreed brightly, and stole

one last kiss before managing to tear herself away.

Rachel watched her go, and stood in the doorway for

a long time after the car was out of sight, staring
blankly after it. Then, she shook herself and went
back inside. To bed. A bed with no Quinn in it.
Although not having Quinn in her bed did mean that
she was going to get some sleep., which was a small
plus.
Kurt was not pleased. He'd set the whole Berry thing
up, and then Rachel hadn't answered her phone all
day, and no texts or messages or anything. When she
walked into school on Monday he cornered her
immediately, too focussed on getting some answers
to notice what she was wearing - until she had to tilt
her hat back on her head to look at him. Berry's hat.
Her hair was down, but it was definitely that hat - and
she was wearing the jeans as well, with a silky
camisole top. Kurt blinked.

"What -" There was a bruise on her collarbone, and

he wasn't stupid. "You got lucky," he said accusingly,
pointing one finger at her. "You got lucky and you
didn't tell me anything about it."

He folded his arms and subjected her to his best pout

but damn her, she just laughed at him. That cocky
laugh she'd used as Berry, and for a second he saw
the guy standing in front of him. This was going to
take some getting used to. He refused to have a
crush on Rachel Berry or all people. She was a girl.

"Because she didn't leave until eleven last night,"

Rachel told him, and Kurt's mouth dropped open. That
was - that was more then twenty-four hours. He
grinned, widely. He'd totally called that one. Not only
did Rachel like Quinn, but Quinn Fabray was totally
gay for Rachel Berry.
"I owe you one," Rachel told him, leaning in to kiss his
cheek, before turning on her heel and sauntering
away.

Kurt's grin only grew wider. She did, did she? Then
the next big solo? Was his.

-----------

Summary: This was a request on tumblr for cop!

Quinn. So, there we go. Cop!Quinn smut, with a little
angst and fluff on the side.
A/N: There are several 10-codes used in this. So
here's a list of the ones used, in the order I used
them:

* 10-81 – status check done on officers who have

not had radio traffic in an hour.
* 10-55 – drunk driver
* 10-37 – suspicious vehicle/person
* 10-28 – license plate check
* 10-27 – driver's license check
* 10-12 – standby
* 10-6 – busy
* 10-8 – finished with assignment

The radio crackled, then came to life with a steady

whine before she heard the voice. She reached
towards the mic.
“Dispatch to 124, 10-81 check.”

She maneuvered the car down the street with one

hand on the steering wheel, the other expertly
pressing the button on the mic.

“10-4, dispatch,” Quinn said easily, then released the

button.

“Clear, zero one-hundred.”

One a.m. Just six more hours to go. She’d been on

edge all night, and even though she knew why, no
amount of coffee or bantering around with her shift
could calm her down. She suspected the coffee
made it worse, but she’d developed an addiction after
five years on the force, and the last year of night shift
wasn’t doing its job in helping her kick the habit.

She’d applied for the Lima Police Department just

after her 20th birthday. They’d sponsored her through
her hours of training at OPOTA, and now, at the age
of 26, she was the youngest shift commander in the
department. She was one of the few who had
volunteered for night shift, which made her everyone’s
darling, because she didn’t mind working nights, didn’t
mind working weekends (except for one weekend a
month, which she always scheduled off in advance),
and didn’t mind working holidays.
It was better than being in an empty apartment.

She turned her car down the avenue towards the

shopping district, glancing into her rearview mirror.
No one was following her; Lima was pretty dead at
this time on a Thursday morning. Tucked into the
visor was a small picture; she smiled, reaching up to
run her fingers over it. Beth was ten years old now,
all brown hair and green eyes, and banged-up knees.
Last week she’d beat up some kid for calling another
one stupid, Shelby said, and Quinn had laughed. The
girl was turning into Puck, that was for sure. But there
was another reason Quinn’s fingers lingered over the
picture in her car, the reason the picture stayed above
her head, no matter what, even after she’d totaled her
first assignment during a chase after a 10-55.

That reason, the second in the picture, was also petite

and brunette, but this one had brown eyes and a
gigantic voice that, if Quinn closed her eyes, she
could still hear singing softly into her ear.

She’d left after graduation. No one had begged her to

stay, not even Quinn, because there wasn’t a
relationship there, anyway, so she had no claim.
Even if she had wanted. The little diva was making it
big on Broadway, already had one Tony, and was well
on her way to another one that June. She came
home every month or so for a weekend, and Quinn
laughed that her hands still shook every time she met
Rachel for coffee in her fathers’ house. It didn’t
matter how many times those same hands had
stripped Rachel naked, or how many times Rachel
had kissed them, looking at her with love in her eyes.

Hell, that very look still made Quinn feel like a

lovesick schoolgirl.

It had started unexpectedly, with Quinn running into

Rachel at the store and the brunette talking so easily
and pleasantly to her that it was as if they had never
been enemies, never nearly hated each other –
though Quinn had long suspected that it was more
than hate that had bound her to Rachel, ever since
they were sixteen. Rachel had invited her for coffee,
and what had followed was a romance that neither of
them had really planned on, but neither was
complaining.

The distance was hard, but somehow they made it

work, even if Rachel’s dads complained that the diva
spent more time at Quinn’s apartment than she did
with her parents. Quinn had managed to stop crying
each time Rachel left – at least until Rachel was in the
air and Quinn was in the bedroom of her apartment.
Then there was no one there to hear her sob.

A light behind one of the empty shops in the strip mall

caught Quinn’s eye, and she pulled the car into the
parking lot, towards the source. She picked up her
mic.
“124, dispatch.”

She stopped behind the car and caught a glimpse of

someone sitting in the driver’s side, talking on the
phone with hands gesturing wildly.

“124, go ahead.”

She keyed up again. “10-4,” she said quickly, her

body shifting into work mode. “Show me out with a
10-37 vehicle behind Joann Fabrics on Tenth Street.
It’s going to be a blue… “ She quirked an eyebrow.
“A blue Prius. 10-28s of Adam two-six William three
four. That’s A26W34. I’m going to be out of the car.”

“10-4, zero one twenty-five.”

She put the car in park and reached across her

console to grab her hat and plop it on her head, over
her blonde hair held tightly in a ponytail. She grabbed
her flashlight, stepping out and holding the light with
her right hand, her left resting lightly on the holster at
her side as she approached the blue Prius. She
tapped on the window to get the passenger’s
attention. The window rolled down, and Quinn shone
the light through.

What she saw nearly made her jaw drop.

She cleared her throat. “What seems to be the

problem?”
“What? Qu—“

She shook her head. “Sergeant Fabray, ma’am.

Step out of the car, please.”

“I will do no such thing! What is going on here?”

Quinn rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. She took
a step back and regarded the small woman coolly.

“Step-out-of-the-car. Please.”

She heard a huff, and fought back a laugh, but

schooled her smirk behind her trademark “cop face”
when five-foot-two of legs, smooth tan skin, and
brown hair in waves over a pair of brown eyes exited
the car, slamming the door for emphasis.

“Driver’s license, please.”

The brunette folded her arms over her chest and

glared at Quinn. “I don’t know what kind of game
you’re playing, but I don’t like it, Sergeant Fabray.”

Quinn smirked. “Unless you want to be handcuffed

and in the back of my car on the way to county, you
might want to hand over your driver’s license.” She
leaned forward until her lips brushed against the
woman’s ear, and she grinned when she shivered.
“Now.”
She backed up just in time to see the girl swallow
hard, and hold out her driver’s license with a shaking
hand.

“Thank you, miss,” Quinn said, smiling sweetly.

“Dispatch 124, status check?”

Quinn tucked her lips near the shoulder mic, pressing

the button. “10-4, dispatch, 27 name and date of birth
out of New York, when you’re ready.”

She heard the woman scoff, and Quinn winked at her.

“Go ahead, 124.”

“10-4. Last name Berry, first name Rachel, middle

initial B as in Barbra. Date of birth 1994, twelve
eighteen, 1994 twelve eighteen, 10-4?”

“10-4, 10-12.”

“Dispatch, I’m going to be all 10-4 out here, 10-6, no

need to check.”

“10-4, zero one forty-five.”

Now she was positively glowering. “Quinn,” Rachel

said evenly. “What the hell are you doing?”
Quinn arched her eyebrow. “Sergeant Fabray.”

Rachel sighed. “Okay, then. Sergeant Fabray…

what the hell are you doing?”

Quinn stowed her flashlight into her belt, reaching to

pull out her handcuffs and spin them lazily around her
index finger. “Question is, miss, what are you doing?”

She caught the merest glimpse of a fleeting smile

before it was gone, replaced by a scowl – and
darkening eyes above them. “I’m not playing bad cop
with you, Sergeant Fabray.” She pushed off the car
and Quinn backed up again, holding out her hand.

“Don’t move, miss.”

“Quinn—“ Rachel took another step forward.

In an instant she was pinned, her stomach against the

police car and her hands behind her back. Quinn
cuffed her securely, resting her hand on Rachel
between her shoulder blades. She leaned over and
nuzzled her face against Rachel’s neck, smiling when
Rachel sighed and craned her neck to allow for more
access.

“I told you not to move.”

“Now you have me where you want me,” Rachel

remarked, almost conversationally. “Perhaps I should
scream. I am in distress, after all.”

Quinn laughed and pulled her hand away, only to pull

out the nightstick that she kept holstered at her side
and gently tapped Rachel’s thighs with them. Rachel
spread automatically, and Quinn shook her head.

“So much in distress that I bet you’re wet. I bet

you’ve soaked through your underwear.”

“No,” Rachel said, her word ending with a groan

because Quinn had slipped the stick between her legs
and was rubbing her, softly, back and forth.

“No?”

“You have to be wearing underwear to soak through

them.”

Quinn blinked in surprise but recovered herself long

enough to still the stick, and she giggled a little when
Rachel whined.

“Quinn…”

She maneuvered herself so that she was pressed

fully against Rachel, one hand cupping her waist and
the other holding the nightstick steady. She kissed
Rachel’s ear, trailing her mouth downwards over the
line of her neck to her shoulder, sucking the tender
skin there.
“Move, baby,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Rachel,” Quinn growled, and pressed the stick harder

against her. Rachel moaned. “I know you’re not
stupid. You’re not wearing underwear; you know
what you want. Take it.”

“I want you,” Rachel groaned, even as she began to

grind herself against the nightstick held in her
girlfriend’s hand. “I want your fingers…”

“Can’t get enough of them?” Quinn asked smoothly,

running her free hand up to tweak a very hard nipple
through Rachel’s dress.

Rachel gasped. “It’s been… oh god… it’s been two

months… please…”

Quinn smiled and ran her tongue along Rachel’s ear,

rolling a sensitive nipple in between her fingers.
“Maybe I don’t want to give it to you,” she whispered.
“Maybe I really, really want to hear you beg.”

“You would,” Rachel pouted, grunting when Quinn

began to move the nightstick again, and her hips
bucked involuntarily.

Quinn bit her neck, soothing it with her tongue, her

hand slipping underneath Rachel’s dress and moving
upwards, over the rippling muscles of Rachel’s
stomach, and the girl shuddered. Her fingers
breached the cotton of her bra and cupped her breast,
fingertips stroking lightly.

“Well, are you going to?”

“Going to what?” Rachel’s breath was coming in

ragged gasps as she rode the nightstick, holding it
between her thighs.

Quinn shook her head. “Beg,” she said. “I want to

hear you.”

“You know I want it,” Rachel pleaded. “I’ve missed

you; baby, I just want to feel you inside me, please.”

She really wasn’t in the mood to make her beg

anymore; the stick clattered to the ground and
Rachel’s hands were uncuffed in an instant. Quinn
cupped her waist with her hands and lifted her to the
hood of the car. She was swift and smooth; Rachel
was already wet and she slid in easily. Rachel’s eyes
rolled backwards as she moaned; her hands came up
to clutch at Quinn’s shoulders as the cop thrust
steadily with three fingers.

“You’ve missed me?” Quinn breathed, her face

pressed against the crook of Rachel’s neck.
“Mm-hm… oh!” Rachel whimpered at a particularly
hard thrust. “Let me... can I… show you?”

“Fuck yes,” Quinn said, pulling out gently, long

enough to unfasten her belt, laying it on the hood of
the car next to Rachel and undoing her pants.
Rachel’s petite fingers found her quickly and Quinn
moaned, entering Rachel again and practically laying
on top of her.

“God, you’re so wet,” Rachel said, fingers moving

slowly and Quinn rocked her hips, urging her girlfriend
to go faster.

“I’ve been wet ever since I got to work,” Quinn

grumbled, legs shaking as she struggled to hold
herself up, even as she felt the orgasm building within
her. “I can’t even concentrate… god, Rachel…”

Rachel’s free hand slipped into Quinn’s shirt; her

fingertips trailed over a well-known scar that rested
just on her girlfriend’s left ribcage. Quinn caught the
tears that welled up and she kissed her quickly to
distract her. It had been two years ago and they
hadn’t even been dating then, but Rachel had shown
up at the hospital, a hysterical whirlwind of threats to
the doctors if Quinn wasn’t well taken care of. She’d
even placed a call to the district attorney, who had
said to Quinn – confidentially – that dealing with
Rachel was more intimidating than dealing with
judges.
“Baby,” Rachel groaned, her head coming to rest
against the hood of the car. “Baby, please, faster…”

“Dispatch, 124?”

“Fuck!” Quinn swore, and Rachel laughed. Quinn

glared and hit the button to her mic quickly, trying not
to snap as she said, “Go ahead, dispatch.”

“10-4, 27s out of New York come back valid to a

Rachel Barbra Berry of Manhattan, no wants.”

“Ten—“ Rachel chose that moment to pull out and

thrust back in, swiping her thumb over Quinn's clit,
and Quinn had to let go of the mic to slam her hand
down on the hood as her knees buckled. “Rachel!”
she hissed, rolling her eyes when her girlfriend
giggled and eased off.

“10-4, dispatch,” Quinn muttered into the mic, glaring

again at Rachel. “10-4, no need to check still.”

Rachel batted her eyelashes coquettishly up at her

girlfriend. “Faster, baby?” she asked, moving her hips
suggestively.

After two months, Quinn was only happy to oblige.

She rode Rachel’s fingers, hips moving almost of their
own accord, even as her own fingers moved faster, as
deep as she thought Rachel could handle, and soon
Rachel’s cry echoed into the cold, dark Lima morning
as she pulsed around her girlfriend. Quinn followed
moments later with Rachel’s name on her lips, and
she collapsed on top of her girlfriend, breathing hard.

Rachel pulled Quinn’s cap off, releasing the woman’s

hair from its ponytail and running her fingers lazily
through blonde curls. Quinn smiled and nuzzled
Rachel’s cheek, feeling giddy. “No underwear?” she
said wryly. “Were you expecting to get lucky?”

“Not expecting,” Rachel said, sounding amused.

“Just hoping.”

Quinn rolled to the side, propping herself up on one

elbow and hoping to god no one else came into that
parking lot to see Rachel with her dress around her
waist and Quinn with her pants unbuttoned. “What
are you doing here?”

“Car broke down,” was Rachel’s answer. “I just barely

managed to pull in here. And I couldn’t get Budget to
send Triple AAA. I think I’m going to send a very
strongly worded letter to them about the quality of
their service, and their vehicles.”

Quinn shook her head and laughed. “No, I mean,

what are you doing here? Your flight wasn’t due until
seven.”

“Oh, that.” Rachel smiled and leaned up to kiss

Quinn. “I took an earlier flight, obviously. I wanted to
be prepared for you. This—“ She waved her hand at
the two of them. “Well, this was a rather welcome
coincidence.”

Quinn captured Rachel’s lips in a kiss, moaning when

Rachel’s mouth opened and their tongues met.
Rachel’s fingers trailed over Quinn’s chest and Quinn
shook her head, taking Rachel’s hands in hers. “Not
till later,” she said softly. “Who knows when someone
will come looking for me.”

She stood up and buttoned her pants, putting her belt

back on, and then helped Rachel to a sitting position
on her car. “You’re back a month early, you know.”

Rachel nodded. “I know.”

“Why?”

“I got tired of leaving behind something important.”

There was a question in Rachel’s eyes, and Quinn

smiled, kissing her gently.

She’d put in her transfer to New York three days ago.

“Come on.” She lifted Rachel off of her car. “I’ll drive
you to your dads’?”

Rachel shook her head and grinned, chewing on her

lower lip. “Your place?”

Quinn tilted her head at the glint in Rachel’s eyes.

“Good idea,” she decided.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you know these handcuffs work much

better with my bed.”

Rachel laughed. “This is true.” She grabbed her

suitcases out of the Prius and Quinn stowed them in
the trunk of her car before settling Rachel into the
passenger side, then climbing into the driver’s side.
She keyed her mic again.

“124, dispatch.”

“Go ahead.”

Rachel’s hand slipped across the console to clutch

Quinn’s.

“Show me 10-8 from this location and en route with

one white female on a courtesy escort to Maple
Street.”

She smiled at Rachel and kissed her hand. “I’ll be

taking her home.”

--------
GTL Is The Way Of Life

The hallways of McKinley High were hectic as

students and teachers alike rushed through the halls,
eager to start their weekend on such a beautiful
Friday afternoon. Rachel Berry was not one of those
students. Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel hesitantly
approached the head Cheerio where she stood at her
locker.

“Quinn, I was wondering if I could speak to you for a

moment?” she inquired apprehensively when she
reached the blonde.

Quinn arched one sculpted eyebrow inquisitively.

“What about, Berry?”

Rachel swallowed audibly. “I would like to extend to

you an invitation to attend a small gathering at my
house tonight.”

“By ‘small gathering’ do you mean just you and me?”

“Yes,” Rachel stated with more confidence than she

felt.
“By ‘small gathering, just you and me’ do you mean
a date?”

“Yes,” Rachel repeated, fake confidence deteriorating

quickly.
Eyebrows furrowing, mouth pulling down in a frown,
Quinn bit her bottom lip in frustration. “Rachel, why
can’t you just ask me out like a normal person?
What’s with all this ‘I’d like to extend an invitation’
crap?”

Rachel’s eyes darted around the hallway, nervously

checking to see if anyone had heard Quinn. “I wasn’t
sure if you were comfortable with the miscreants of
McKinley knowing that we…go on dates. I was trying
to inquire stealthily whether or not you would be-”

Her sentence was cut off by a light kiss pressed

gently against her lips. Some freshman boys gaped
from across the hallway; a few Cheerios sneered and
gossiped behind their hands; Jacob Ben Israel broke
his phone in an attempt to snap a quick picture.

“We’ve been on three dates,” Quinn began softly after

pulling away. “I asked you to be my girlfriend after the
last one. I don’t care if people hear you asking me
out in the hallway, Rachel.”

“Well, if that is the case, will you come over to my

house tonight, as a date, Quinn Fabray?” Rachel
asked, beaming.

Quinn’s smile in return was just as bright. “Yes.”

***
Rachel and Quinn’s first date had happened after two
months of secret longing (that wasn’t exactly a secret)
from Rachel and two weeks of Santana telling Quinn
to ‘just bang the wookiee already, god.’ Quinn was
the one to ask Rachel out to dinner at Breadstix.
Rachel dropped a meatball on her bright white skirt
and Quinn choked on a crouton. After a semi-
successful evening, Quinn left Rachel at her front
door with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Their second date had come one week later when

Rachel cornered Quinn in a deserted chemistry
classroom and asked if she wanted to go to the
movies. The date went off without a hitch up until
they actually arrived at the theater. Rachel stepped
on the back of Quinn’s sandal, causing that back
strap to tear. Quinn poured the super sized Coke
onto Rachel’s lap when she tripped over her own
broken shoe while trying to get to her seat. After a
disastrous evening, Rachel left Quinn at her front door
with one shoe and a handshake while she returned to
her car with a ruined pair of jeans.

Quinn had called Rachel the following day and

demanded that they go on a “do over” date. They
went to Breadstix where no food was spilled or
choked on. Nothing climactic happened during the
movie portion of the date aside from Rachel grasping
Quinn’s hand in her own ten minutes in and not letting
go until the credits rolled. After a wonderful evening,
Quinn kissed Rachel tenderly under the dim light of
the street lamp in front of her house and asked
Rachel to be her girlfriend. Rachel accepted.

Now, Rachel stood by the front window and waited for

Quinn to arrive for their fourth date. Soon enough,
Quinn’s car rolled to a stop in front of her house and
Rachel bounced to the front door, ripping it open
excitedly. Quinn looked startled to see Rachel
eagerly waiting for her when she finally reached the
door, but she smiled shyly none the less.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Quinn,” Rachel greeted warmly, pulling the

blonde quickly through the doorway and wrapping her
arms around her in a tight hug. Quinn hugged back
and Rachel tried to hide the shudder that racked her
body when Quinn exhaled lightly against her ear.

“Hey,” the blonde murmured again quietly when she

pulled back, grinning and biting her bottom lip.

“Hey,” Rachel repeated, shy grin spreading over her

lips before they were claimed by Quinn’s. The kiss
was soft, like the one they shared under the street
lamp a week ago and in the hallway earlier that day.
Rachel sighed, pressing her lips a little harder against
Quinn’s when the blonde’s hands tightened their grip
on her waist.

“You must be Quinn.”

 The girls broke apart abruptly at the voice. Rachel’s
Dad, Robert, stood in the entry to the kitchen, arms
folded over his chest and a sly smile on his face.
Rachel blushed and pulled out of Quinn’s arms
completely when he raised an amused eyebrow at
her.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Quinn answered, sounding more

professional then Rachel had ever heard before.

“I’m Robert. It’s nice to meet you.” He stepped

forward to shake her hand. “It’s nice to finally put a
face to the name. Rachel talks about you all the
time.”

Quinn’s air of professionalism faded as she looked

smugly at Rachel. “Does she?”

Rachel blushed harder. “No, I don’t. Dad, stop

slandering my good name; it’s not polite.” With that
she grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her around her
Dad and into the kitchen. “We’re going to watch a
movie in the basement,” she said, pulling open a door
by the fridge where stairs led down to the lowest level
of the house. “Please refrain from spreading anymore
malicious lies about me should anyone else come
knocking on our door.”

Robert just laughed and called out, “Alright,

sweetheart. You and Quinn have fun. Just let me
know if you need anything. Snacks, pop, dental
dams-”

Rachel snapped the basement door closed before he

could say anything else, but the damage was already
done. Quinn’s eyes widened and she lost her footing
on the stairs but Rachel latched onto her arm before
she could tumble down the steps.

“He’s kidding,” she reassured quickly. She made

sure Quinn had regained her balance before letting go
of her arm.

“Oh. Right.” Quinn didn’t sound convinced.

“What would you like to watch?” Rachel asked once

they were settled side by side on the large, dark
brown leather couch situated in front of the TV.

“It doesn't matter.”

“I… alright.” Rachel had expected Quinn to be a bit

more decisive. She wasn’t quite sure what kinds of
things Quinn liked to watch, so she decided to flip
through the channels until she found something that
appealed to both of them. After a minute of silence as
she browsed through the channels, she stopped on a
show where a teenage girl was having a fit in a
Cadillac dealership because her father wouldn’t buy
her an Escalade. Rachel was enthralled by the girl’s
ability to throw a diva tantrum better than even she
could when she felt Quinn’s hand slide under hers
where it rested on the couch, lacing their fingers
together

“Is this show alright?”

“Sure,” Quinn murmured, looking at her for a long

moment before reverting her eyes back to the screen.
Another minute passed and the girl on screen was
trying on thousand dollar dresses in front of her
drooling friends.

“Rachel.” Drawing her attention away from the TV,

Rachel turned to Quinn, who was smiling softly at her.
Quinn leaned in, kissing her softly before pulling back.
“Thank you for inviting me over.”

Rachel beamed. “You’re very welcome, Quinn.

Thank you for coming over.” Quinn licked her bottom
lip before kissing Rachel again, gliding her lips gently
against the brunette’s. Rachel broke the kiss with a
smile before returning her focus back to the show.

Quinn sighed loudly beside her. “Rachel,” she huffed

exasperatedly. When Rachel faced the blonde with a
frown, clearly confused by her outburst, Quinn just
raised one eyebrow expectantly. “Kiss me,” she
demanded.

Rachel’s confused frown stayed in place, but she did

as Quinn asked, leaning in to press her lips hesitantly
to the other girl’s. When she pulled away, Quinn
rolled her eyes and said, “Again.” Rachel kissed her
once more and Quinn’s hand came to rest on the
back of her neck, keeping her in place when she
would have pulled back as the blonde pressed her
lips firmly against Rachel’s.

Oh.
Rachel finally understood Quinn’s intent and relaxed
under the blonde’s grip, tentatively returning the kiss.
Quinn tilted her head slightly and snagged Rachel’s
bottom lip gently between her teeth as her other hand
threaded through Rachel’s hair. Rachel whimpered at
the small sting Quinn’s teeth caused, but the blonde
soothingly ran her tongue across Rachel’s bottom lip
before the pain really registered. Before Rachel even
realized she was doing it, her lips parted and Quinn’s
tongue slipped smoothly into her mouth. Whimpering
again when it slid against her own, Rachel lightly
sucked on Quinn’s tongue. Quinn gave a quiet moan,
coaxing Rachel’s tongue to follow her own as it
retreated into her mouth so she could return the favor.
It was Rachel’s turn to moan when she tasted the
slightest hint of cinnamon on the tip of Quinn’s
tongue. She pushed deeper into the blonde’s mouth
wanting to taste as much of Quinn as she could.

Quinn broke away to pant softly against Rachel’s lips

and Rachel found she was out of breath as well.
Hazel eyes fluttered open under long, thick lashes
and Rachel felt her breath hitch at the dark, stormy
look in them. Quinn’s mouth was back on hers before
she could catch her breath. Rachel’s arms flailed for
a moment when she couldn’t think of a place to rest
her hands as Quinn’s lips hungrily attacked her own.
She finally settled for the blonde’s shoulders. Quinn
pulled back abruptly only to reattach her lips to
Rachel’s jaw, kissing a line down to her pulse point
where she finally stopped to suck intently on the skin
there. Rachel whimpered and pulled insistently on
Quinn’s shoulders, desperate to get the blonde as
close to her has possible. Quinn detached from her
neck only long enough to murmur, voice low and
rough, “Lay back,” before her mouth was once again
on Rachel’s throat. Rachel did as she was told and
sprawled back on the couch. Quinn followed, lips
never leaving Rachel’s skin, and spread out over the
brunette, one hand planting on the couch by Rachel’s
shoulder to support herself and the other latching onto
Rachel’s hip.

When Quinn introduced teeth into her delicious

torture, biting more than a little roughly at the point
where Rachel’s neck met her shoulder, Rachel
gasped and her hips jerked uncontrollably, legs
spreading open before she could stop them. Quinn’s
hips fell between her thighs easily and the blonde let
her body press fully against Rachel’s.

Quinn pulled away from Rachel’s neck despite the

brunette’s groan of protest to latch back on to her
mouth. Rachel kissed back eagerly, running her
hands up and down and across Quinn’s back. Her
nails dug hard into the blonde’s shoulder blades when
one of Quinn’s hands appeared suddenly at her
breast, squeezing gently over Rachel’s sweater and
bra. Rachel gasped and tore away from Quinn’s
inviting lips in surprise. The hand slowly massaging
her breast disappeared as quickly as it had
materialized. Quinn’s dark eyes peered down at her,
filled with guilt

“I-I’m sorry, Rach. I’m going too fast and I should

have asked before-”

Rachel cut her off with a heated, albeit quick, kiss.

“No, it’s fine.” Her voice came out low and husky and
Rachel wondered if that was the reason the small ring
of hazel left in Quinn’s eyes almost disappeared
entirely, as the blonde’s pupils were completely
blown. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

Rachel pulled the girl into another kiss, which Quinn

returned only half as passionately as Rachel expected
her to. She pulled back to find doubt still lingering
over the blonde’s features, so she added, “I swear,
Quinn. It’s okay. It actually felt really good.”

Quinn still didn’t look convinced though, so Rachel

took matters into her own hands. She reached for the
hand that had been on her breast and brought it back
to its previous position. Quinn swallowed and
glanced questioningly at Rachel. Rachel nodded her
encouragement and returned her mouth to Quinn’s,
sucking on the blonde’s lower lip, earning a whimper,
before slipping her tongue into her girlfriend’s mouth.

Tentatively, Quinn grasped Rachel’s breast again,

running her thumb over her hard nipple where she
could feel it through her clothes. Rachel groaned into
the blonde’s mouth before sliding her lips to her chin
and down farther to her throat where she sucked and
licked greedily at Quinn’s soft skin. That seemed to
kick start the blonde into action, as she stifled a
whimper by biting her bottom lip and squeezed
Rachel’s breast more aggressively, pinching her
nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Rachel
pressed her thighs tightly against Quinn’s hips in
response and nipped sharply at her pulse point.
Quinn failed to stifle her whimper that time. Her hand
slid from Rachel’s breast, down her stomach, and to
the hem of her sweater. Quinn’s finger’s inched
under the fabric and crawled slowly up Rachel’s
stomach. Her hand covered the brunette’s breast,
squeezing once before retreating and pushing the
lace bra up over her breasts.

“Okay?” Quinn whispered roughly into Rachel’s ear.

Rachel sucked harder on Quinn’s throat and arched

her back, pushing her chest closer to the blonde as a
response. Quinn ran her finger tips lightly over the
soft skin of Rachel’s breast before her fingers covered
Rachel’s nipple, pinching and tweaking until the
brunette was squirming underneath her. When Quinn
gave a particularly rough tug, Rachel whined into
Quinn’s neck as her hips rocked against Quinn’s.
Rachel paused in her ministrations, thinking that
maybe that wasn’t okay, but Quinn only moaned and
doubled her efforts on Rachel’s breast while slipping
her leg over Rachel’s so one of her thighs rested
between Rachel’s, pushing her skirt up dangerously
high on her waist, and one of the brunette’s thighs
pressed between her own.

Quinn dipped her head and claimed Rachel’s lips. “It

feels better like this,” she mumbled against her
girlfriend’s mouth. Rachel was about to ask what felt
better, but Quinn demonstrated before she could.
Quinn rocked her hips down, hard, against Rachel’s;
the thigh between the brunette’s grinding against
Rachel through her panties. Rachel couldn’t contain
her moan as a strong, hot flare of arousal shot
through her. Simply making out with Quinn had
turned her on beyond belief, but now, with the blonde
rubbing against her there, Rachel could hardly believe
how aroused she was. She wondered if Quinn’s
panties were as damp as her own were. If the way
her girlfriend was writhing against her was any
indication, Rachel guessed that was probably the
case.

Quinn whimpered quietly above her and coaxed

Rachel to wrap the leg not currently nestled between
her thighs around her waist. Rachel gasped when
she did; it opened her up even more and the rough
denim of Quinn’s jeans rubbing against her through
her panties was almost too much. She was sure
there would be a wet spot on the dark material when
Quinn pulled away.

Quinn steered them into steady rhythm. The blonde

would roll her hips down against Rachel and Rachel
would meet her halfway, rocking up against Quinn.
The hand Quinn had on Rachel’s breast would
squeeze intermittently, particularly on occasions when
Rachel would jerk her hips especially hard, causing
her thigh to grind more roughly against Quinn’s
centre.

The rhythm was lost after a few minutes when

Quinn’s hand slipped from underneath Rachel’s shirt
to dig into the couch as she braced herself, hips
rocking harder and more insistently against Rachel’s.
Rachel felt a warm sensation burning in the bottom of
her stomach and she wrapped her arms around
Quinn, nails digging into the blonde’s back as her own
hips fought to keep up. Burying her face into her
girlfriend’s neck, Rachel tried to prevent her whimpers
and moans from sounding out too loudly. Quinn was
panting against her ear and letting out little incoherent
moans, one in particular sounding suspiciously like,
“Rachel,” but Rachel couldn’t be sure because she
was too focused on the fact that she could feel how
hot Quinn was though her jeans as the blonde lost all
sense of rhythm. She rocked their hips together
mercilessly and Rachel felt it building within her; a
white, hot sensation that made her bite into Quinn’s
shoulder and grind frantically against the blonde’s
thigh. Rachel wanted to let the feeling wash over her
more than anything, but Quinn, shaking and moaning
above her, whimpered out, “Rachel, w-wait,” so
Rachel did, because Quinn was so close she could
practically taste it and the thought of them coming
together was too appealing to pass up. Quinn
crushed their lips together in a sloppy kiss, tongue
sliding wetly into Rachel’s mouth, but Rachel didn’t
care, couldn’t care with how amazing it felt and how
close they both were to tumbling over the edge.

“Rachel? Honey, are you down there?” Both girls

froze instantly at the voice sounding from the top of
the basement stairs. Quinn scrambled off of her
girlfriend and flung herself back against the couch,
combing her fingers through her mussed hair and
readjusting her bunched up tee shirt. Rachel followed
suit, sitting up and pulling her skirt down from around
her waist. Quinn slung an arm around Rachel’s
shoulders and Rachel snuggled into Quinn’s side as
they pretended to watch whatever was on TV; the
perfect picture of innocence.

Except for Quinn’s blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

And Rachel’s swollen lips and glassy eyes. And both
girl’s inability to stop visibly shaking, each needing
desperately to come.
“Rach, whose car is that out…Oh.”

Rachel turned to face her Daddy, Ernest, who was

standing stationary in the middle of the staircase.

“Daddy, this is Quinn.”

He smiled and nodded politely. “Nice to meet you,

Quinn.”

“You too, Mr. Berry.” Rachel’s eyes widened and

locked with Quinn’s anxious gaze as both girls heard
how husky Quinn’s voice was. Quinn cleared her
throat. “You have a lovely home,” she added, voice
back to normal.

Ernest grinned knowingly and gestured to the TV the

girls had been pretending to watch. “So, what are you
two up to?”

Rachel grinned brightly, smile completely fake as she

turned back to the TV. “Just watching some TV,
Daddy. You know, uh…” Rachel trailed off when she
actually focused on the show playing. She had no
idea what it was. The snobby diva from before had
been replaced with a few extremely tan guys with
completely ridiculous hair styles who all seemed to
have an affinity for taking their shirts off. Rachel
stared blankly at the screen as they danced like
buffoons in a crowded club.
“Jersey Shore,” Quinn stated, when Rachel failed to
complete her sentence. It was obvious that Rachel’s
father had some inkling as to what they were doing
before her interrupted, but Quinn was more
comfortable pretending he didn’t.

“Hm. I didn’t know Rachel was a fan.”

“I’m not!” Rachel exclaimed, finally tearing her eyes

away from what Mercedes would call a hot damn
mess on the screen. “I’m not. Quinn is.” Rachel
didn’t want her Daddy thinking she could actually
enjoy the foolishness that was Jersey Shore.

Quinn cut her eyes over to her girlfriend, glaring

coldly. Rachel thought that maybe Quinn didn’t want
her Daddy to think that about her either.

Oops.

“Ernest! Babe, wait! Don’t go down…” Robert’s voice

boomed down from the kitchen and was followed by
hurried footsteps down the basement stairs. “…there.”
He looked apologetically at Quinn and Rachel as he
stood on the step above his smirking husband.
“Sorry, girls. I was in the bathroom when he got
home. Otherwise I’d have stopped him.”

Rachel huffed out a frustrated sigh. If her Dad had

stopped her Daddy, even for three more seconds, she
and Quinn both would have…
Rachel met Quinn’s eyes, still darker than normal,
and knew her girlfriend was thinking the exact same
thing.

---------------

The Mistakes That Lead Me To You

One

Rachel watched enviously as Noah Puckerman

popped the top off another beer bottle with his lighter,
carelessly letting the tiny metal cap fall to the
cemented floor of the garage. The girl had spent the
better part of a year failing at perfecting that particular
skill, ever since she saw him do it seven months ago:
the date of their first ever coupling for honorary bro's
night.

It had started because of an audition. Most things did

where Rachel Berry was concerned because her big
dreams of her name on a marquee sign in the bright
lights on Broadway would have it no other way. She
was auditioning for the role of Maureen in a local
community theatre production of Rent and she feared
she wouldn't be able to fully grasp the character
without experiencing feelings of rebellion for herself
first hand.
Noah suggested getting drunk—which was his
customary answer for everything, since he was
always trying to get in her pants because she was a
hot looking Jew and he just couldn't help it—but
Rachel refused to attend Noah's regular bro's night on
Saturday with all the guys. Usually, he would've just
stopped trying to help after that but Rachel was his
best friend, had been for as long as they could
remember.

They're parents had been good friends since they

were young, well, just his mom, since Noah's dad
hadn't ever shown up for anything, least of all to the
Synagogue. At first, they were just dragged along by
Rachel's two gay dads and his mom, when they
conversed over lunch after Temple was over, but after
a while Rachel took it upon herself to make them
friends. She had said it would be a beneficial
endeavor for both of them to make these Saturday
lunches somewhat tolerable by mutual friendship. He
agreed to get her to stop talking and things just
escalated from there until she was the first number he
called when his dad left.

"Berry, stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault

you have no hand-eye coordination," Noah ordered
before opening another bottle to hand to her.

Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously to the point that

the black sweatshirt he had on looked like a pin-pick
against his tan skin. Noah just looked on, somewhat
nervously, as he ran his left hand over his practically
shaven off Mohawk, his brown eyes blinking rapidly in
wait for the explosion.

"I resent that, Noah! You know very well my hand-eye

coordination is above par. I play the piano, I am
sufficient at playing the guitar and I beat you all the
time at every video game you own! The only reason I
can't open the bottle with your lighter must be
because of your inadequate explanation on how it's
done. Furthermore—"

"Jeez, I like you better when you're drunk. You're a

normal person when you're blitzed and stop calling
me, Noah. How many times do I have to tell you—"

"That you prefer to be called Puck because you don't

want to be associated with some pansy that built a
boat to save the giraffes," interrupted Rachel with a
slight sigh as she took a sip of her beer. "I remember,
I just don't care. Your given name is an important part
of your identity and while I'm forced to tolerate your
use of multiple names for me, because you refuse to
see reason, I will not participate in such an act—"

"Stop, please. You're ruining my buzz," he whined in a

way only he thought was manly.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine, lets play video games.

You have that shooting game out here, right?"
"Duck Hunt, Berry. Duck Hunt. We've been over this a
thousand times. Do you just do it to torture me?"
Noah groaned, almost sounding like he'd been fatally
wounded.

"Like you, with your sexual innuendos to get in my

pants?" Rachel asked, the amusement in her eyes
dulled down by the haze of intoxication. "But to
answer your question, yes. What else am I going to
do for entertainment when I'm sitting on a lawn chair
in your garage with only a faulty twelve-inch
sometimes colour television and a cooler full of
melted ice and lukewarm beer? I must say this is the
worst bro's night you've organized thus far."

Rachel took a sip of her beer, waiting for him to

respond. She knew the moment she got there
something was up. They'd only be in the garage if
Noah had something to say that he didn't want his
mother to hear. Unfortunately, it took a while for him
to get to the point, something that annoyed her
greatly, as she enjoyed the blunt and honest
approach herself. Rachel was just lucky that dressing
in jeans and her favourite gold star hoodie, instead of
her usual short skirts, made it easier to discourage his
advances because she'd be freezing right now.

"Yeah, well, I forgot about it until you called me. I think

it's pretty good for the fifteen minutes I had."

She rolled her eyes again—a go to reaction when

faced with her best friend—before draining the last of
her beer with an embellished gulp. She may not have
got the part—apparently she was too young which
was a gross exaggeration since the woman that got
the role had to be over forty—but Rachel's ability to
hold her alcohol and even tolerate the cheapest beer
from 7-Eleven had drastically improved.

"What, too busy deep cleaning another woman's pool

to remember me?" she murmured sarcastically while
retrieving another beer from the cooler between them.

"No," he growled and when his fists clenched at his

sides, Rachel placed the bottle down on the cement
next to her foot so she could turn to face him.

"What's going on?" she asked softly. "It's not your dad
is it?"

Noah shook his head, still looking straight ahead at

his front yard. His sister's bike was sprawled across
the sun-scorched lawn under the faulty streetlight that
would periodically flash on and off, illuminating the
neon reflectors on the bike's handlebars. They were
surrounded by an eerie silence, that was always
somewhat comforting, until the neighbours dog
started barking at shadows that skittered along the
ground with the moon. Rachel just took in the
lackluster scenery and waited; it was all she could do.
If she pushed anymore they'd be out there all night. It
already happened once and her chiropractor had
made a fortune fixing her posture after she spent
hours uncomfortably slumped in a lawn chair. Never
again.

"I slept with, Quinn," he finally answered and Noah

was determined not to look at her because he didn't
want to see her reaction.

Rachel was always disapproving of his 'older'

conquests, but only enough to comment sarcastically
at their expense. The ones from school she was a lot
less lenient on and she usually lectured him for hours
about how self-esteem issues in teenage girls were
directly related to being promiscuous. This time
though, with Quinn Fabray, well, it would definitely be
worse than that—a whole lot worse.

"What?" she all but growled.

Her voice was almost unrecognizable and he

swallowed as much beer as he could.

-------

Two

Noah Puckerman was pretty much desperate. Like

he'd suspected, his confession during bro's night,
didn't go over very well with his slightly insane—albeit
functional—best friend.
It wasn't his fault, really it wasn't. When he agreed to
be friends with Rachel Berry, he was like six years
old. How was he supposed to know that when she
grew up she'd want girls just like him? They were
bros, so when she confessed to him that she had a
crush on Quinn Fabray, he treated the situation as
such. Guys—well, except for Finn—didn't make a big
deal out of stuff like that. As it turned out, Rachel was
a lot like Finn—or Finn was a lot like Rachel, which
actually made more sense—and now she wasn't
talking to him.

Puck had tried everything. Leaving voicemails,

emails, buying her stuffed animals with remorseful
sayings stitched into their stomachs, even singing
Christina Aguilera songs outside of her window in the
dead of night so nobody at school, that happened to
be passing by, would know it was him. But still,
nothing.

Berry had even ditched bros night, which was like

sacrilegious—seriously, she drew up a contract with
rules and everything—and his mother had started in
on the Jewish Guilt soon after that. If he had to hear
one more sad sigh about how she missed Rachel or
how Rachel would've been able to understand the
significance of Chuck and Sarah uniting as a couple,
he was going to murder someone.

So, he was on his way to the home base of Homo-

Explosion. She was always on him to join that stupid
club and Puck was hoping that embracing his inner
dancing queen would at least be enough for a face-to-
face.

Surprisingly, there was no glitter on the walls or

people rain-dancing to Elton John. It was just a
normal classroom with a piano and these giant risers
against the back wall. The members of the club—well,
there were only five of them so it was more of a
gathering—were standing in a line singing about a
boat. When Rachel pushed that wheelchair kid
towards him, he shook his head and stepped out of
the way to allow the kid to whiz by into the hall.

"Jeez, Babe. Vehicular Manslaughter, really?"

Rachel stopped with the ridiculous dance moves and

turned to look at him, hands on her hips in her
patented indignant pose.

"I'd hardly call it vehicular, Noah," she scoffed with a

roll of her eyes. "Besides, a murder rap at this point of
my career would be incredibly hard to overcome
without the fame and monetary backing Broadway will
eventually grant me."

Puck turned to watch the kid wheel himself back into

the room with a disgruntled look on his face. Wheels
made a show of glaring at Rachel in annoyance and
parking himself beside that stuttering Asian girl before
Puck thought of a comeback.

"He's on wheels, isn't he?" Puck replied with a smug

smirk that only served to infuriate Rachel even more.

The Diva huffed in annoyance and Puck had to stop

himself from laughing at the scared faces in the room
at hearing Rachel's rant on murder. He had a rep to
protect, after all.

"Well, you can leave now," the girl went on,

completely oblivious to the bodies around her inching
away to safety.

Puck shook his head and walked further into the

room. "No can do, Berry. I haven't auditioned yet."

That curly haired teacher that had thus far served as

background scenery—Puck thought he might've been
the Spanish guy—seemed to perk up at the
announcement. He clapped his hands together in this
creepy overly enthusiastic way before walking
towards him.

"Another audition, this is perfect. We've been looking

for a leading man. Nobody quite has the right
chemistry with Rachel yet, but you already seem to be
friends so this will work out perfectly."

Puck turned to survey the rest of the group. Obviously

wheels wouldn't work and that gay kid he threw in the
dumpster every morning was there beside that girl
that was named after the car she was conceived in.
He could see why the teacher was desperate, Rachel
was awesome and the choices for a leading man,
we're, well, not.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have all the chemistry you need,"
Puck murmured, raising his eyebrows up and down
Rachel's way.

"Mr. Schue," Rachel started, taking a couple steps

forward with her face pinched in annoyance, "I must
object. Noah has no leading man potential. He has no
regard for the feelings of the other performers around
him and I can't work with somebody that cannot be
there for me during my times of emotional
vulnerability on stage. We are just an impossibility for
compatibility."

"Don't you have no regard for the other performers

around you?" the gay kid scoffed but quickly stepped
behind Toyota—no that wasn't right—when he
received glares from Puck and Rachel for his
comment.

Schuester sighed and turned to look at Rachel

pleadingly. "Can we just give him a chance? We don't
have enough members as it is and we need all the
help we can get to get enough members for
Invitationals."
Rachel reluctantly nodded and Puck smirked
victoriously. "Come on, Berry, you know you can't
resist this. I have the perfect song for us to sing."

She rolled her eyes and pushed passed him to walk

towards her backpack resting on the risers. Rachel
quickly pulled out some paper and came stomping
back, shoving half of the sheets into his chest.

"No, this is the perfect song to sing. It will prove to me

that you have the emotional fortitude to be my equal
on the stage," she explained with a smug smile, just
challenging him to disagree. "You still want to
audition?"

He looked at her for a moment longer before looking

down at the sheets in his hands. This was apparently
what she wanted for penitence and Puck just wanted
this nightmare to end. He quickly scanned the lyrics
and took in the title, looking up at her incredulously.

"Really, Berry?"

She just shrugged and turned towards the piano guy

to signal him to begin playing. The tune started and
Puck looked over at her a couple bars before the first
verse.

"If I sing this, you'll talk to me?" he hissed, deciding to

ignore the wide eyes gazing at them as their audience
began to recognize the song.
Rachel turned and smirked in a way that was entirely
too familiar for his liking before shrugging. "I'm not
sure yet, but it will get you closer than you were
yesterday."

Sighing, he looked down at the sheet of paper again

and with great reluctance sang, "Everyday is so
wonderful, then suddenly, it's hard to breath…"

---------

Three

Quinn hurried from her last class towards her locker,

books pressed into the front of her cheer uniform with
only one of the straps of her backpack hanging off her
shoulder. It was times like these that Quinn Fabray
loved being on top. She liked how people parted for
her when she walked down the halls, hugging their
lockers while their eyes tracked her every move.

It didn't matter how they looked at her—though the

stares usually fluctuated somewhere between lust,
awe and envy—because their gazes were just a
magnification of the attention she was looking for. It
made her feel important, reinforcing the fact that in
the grand scheme of things, she was significant and
Quinn would seek after that feeling as long as it was
available.
Of course, she'd rather not have to deal with making
small talk—basically putting the effort in to reap the
rewards of other's enthrallment—and giving people
she really didn't care about the time of day wasn't
really of interest to her.

Luckily, there weren't many obstacles that her status

couldn't handle. People rarely made waves to change
their position in life and high school was no different,
especially in Lima, Ohio. In this town, people were
just content to hang on to what they had and as long
as they weren't sinking, they'd never fight for
something better.

Quinn wasn't one to be content with mediocrity,

though. There were always some people that had
more drive than the rest—it was just how society
worked—the survival of the fittest and all that. Not
everybody could be a leader and Quinn was hard
pressed to give anybody that followed behind her
attention, unless it was to remind them where they
belonged.

It might sound mean, or completely abhorrent, but

that was how things were. She just had this ability to
compartmentalize and Quinn knew it was bad to be
the way she was, being able to do the things she did
with little or no guilt. It had to be, at the very least,
unhealthy in someway.

But, it was all she knew and she didn't even question
it anymore because there was just no other way for
her to be. From a young age, her parents seemed to
carelessly dismiss her older sister, as someone
worthy of carrying on the Fabray name, and had
instead focused on honing her to be the perfect little
girl that they always wanted.

When Quinn was growing up, she was showered with

her parent's attention. She was that girl that came
home excitedly displaying her grades in search of her
father's praise. He'd scoop her up and tell her how
wonderful she was and how proud she made him,
while her mother posted her work on the fridge. Of
course, as she got older the blatant affection quickly
turned into gifts—her laptop, her car, her credit card—
but he still told her he was proud of her whenever she
lived up to expectations.

As it was, she rarely went against his wishes after her

sister left. Lindsey just seemed to have a knack for
screwing up until she went away for college and
Quinn didn't want to disappoint her parents like that.
Her sister leaving was the last time Quinn had ever
seen her, besides the odd card around the holidays,
and she never really knew why her sister hadn't come
back. Her daddy just always got so agitated when
Lindsey was brought up, so it was most likely
something horrible.

Shaking her head, Quinn arrived at her locker and

Finn was unfortunately already looming over it. Dating
the school's quarterback was part of the job of being
head cheerleader and she supposed Finn Hudson
was a small price to pay to be on the top of the
pyramid. The fact he was good looking made it
somewhat easier, well, if he didn't talk or block the
sun by standing in front of her.

"Hey, Quinn," he exclaimed brightly with his usual

child-like excitement.

Finn's wide blue eyes bore into her, like he was

pleading for a prize, while he ran his hand through his
short hair, making it stick up even more erratically.

Sighing, she tossed her books into her locker and

quickly slammed it shut. "I got to go. See you after
practice."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek before swiftly making

her way through the hall. Instead of heading to the
doors that lead to the football field, Quinn took a
sharp left into the washroom. She glared at a
freshman applying lip-gloss in the mirror and the girl
quickly scurried out the door leaving Quinn alone.

It wasn't until she was safely locked in the stall

furthest from the door that her façade crumbled into a
heap of rubble at her feet. Quinn had been fine until
she saw Finn. She'd been kind of hoping she wouldn't
see him again. The morning with him waiting in the
exact same spot had already been bad enough to
force her off campus for lunch. Finn was just always
good at showing up when she didn't want him around
and bailing when she needed him the most.

It probably had a lot to do with his simple nature—the

educational system left him behind a long time ago—
and the maturity of a four year old he displayed
proudly like it wasn't embarrassing at all. Finn was
easily bribed with candy, threw tantrums when he
didn't get his way and she could usually spell out
words around him if she didn't want him to know what
she was trying to say.

Truthfully, maintaining their relationship took a lot

more work than she was used to because Finn really
liked her. She looked at him as a means to an end,
while his eyes zeroed in on her like she was his whole
world. A large part of her knew it wasn't fair to him—
she only really started dating him to soften her image
with his awkward boyish charm—but the feeling of
being somebody's everything was intoxicating.

Somehow, Finn's dopey starry-eyed gaze felt like an

entire football stadium had their eyes on her every
move. It was that feeling of walking the halls times an
infinite number and when he'd look at her for a little
too long, she'd get light-headed while a sweeping
surge of warmth rushed through her body. Sometimes
she wondered if that was what love felt like because
her mom stared at her dad that way too. Maybe she
and Finn could get married and get the white picket
fence together, just like she'd always wanted. Only
something always felt wrong whenever she tried to
picture a future standing with Finn Hudson by her
side.

Perhaps, it was that feeling that drove her to rebellion

for the first time in her life. Coach Sylvester had been
on her to lose five pounds and Finn didn't seem to
understand that when she asked him if she looked fat,
he wasn't supposed to say yes. Puck had been
sweet-talking some girl in the hall, telling her she was
hot and wonderful, and at that moment, Quinn
decided she needed that more than anything. She
told him to bring alcohol, he showed up with wine
coolers and she drank way too much.

Now, a month later, she was all alone in one of the

gross bathroom stalls at school, clutching a deep blue
box as hard as she could in her shaking hands, so it
wouldn't fall to the floor. She was a week late and it
would've been fine if she could remember anything
about that night, except the morning when she woke
up naked, suffocated by the smell of sex and Puck's
cologne.

The helpful picture directions on the box started to

blur, as tears were leaking from her eyes and
dropping like bombs against the box's edge. She
wondered if this was God's way of punishing her for
straying from her chosen path and the only way to
absolution was following the steps on the box until
she got the answer that she just couldn't admit to
herself.

Maybe if her boyfriend had actually been hooked on

phonics and wasn't as sharp as a bowl of Jell-O or
Puck hadn't taken advantage of her while she was
drunk and feeling fat, this wouldn't be happening right
now. Going through the motions of the test and
waiting a lot longer than necessary to look at the
results. No, it probably wouldn't be happening at all.

When Quinn finally exited the bathroom—the redness

of her eyes barely noticeable after an extensive use of
eye drops—she caught sight of Berry using her man
hands to drag Puck by the arm through the front
doors of the school.

Rachel Berry—the annoyingly obnoxious, loud mouth

Diva that hardly looked at her at all—was pulling away
the boy that would never know he was a father.

Quinn would go to the grave denying the truth

because she was pregnant and the baby was his.

Puck knowing would only make it worse.

---------

Four
Sometimes, being friends with Noah Puckerman was
a whole lot more trouble than it was worth. He was
brash, insensitive and his questionable hygiene left
little to be desired. The whole badass code of conduct
he lived by—consisting of specifically selected shirts
that showed off his guns, a long strip of hair on his
head, he insisted on calling a Mohawk, and the
perfected art of a well-timed innuendo—usually made
her want to slap him upside the head for the things he
did in the name of his lackadaisical outlook on life.

This, of course, was one of those times.

Rachel watched incredulously, as Noah proceeded to

rip open packet after packet of Sweet'N Low and
dump the contents onto the table in front of him. The
tiny grains scattered across the battered wood
haphazardly, some nearing the edge and jumping off,
before he'd sweep the mess into a pile and start all
over again.

Usually, he could be amused with much less

destructive pastimes: like making a straw snake or
hitting on their waitress with cheesy one-liners.
Unfortunately, Marylyn was pushing fifty in sensible
heels with a deplorable smoker's cough and even
Noah had some standards.

Finally, when he moved on to real sugar, Rachel

couldn't help but ask. "What are you doing? You are
aware that this little mess you're making just bumped
up our waitress' tip to twenty percent, right?"

He looked up and shrugged before gleefully turning

over the sugar dispenser and watching the resulting
carnage with a delighted look in his eye.

"Don't worry about it, Babe," he mumbled distractedly.

"I got it covered. Cleaned Hudson's pool last night."

"Oh God," Rachel shrieked, shaking her hands in front

of her face like she was trying to get something
disgusting off, "Mrs. Hudson, seriously? She's like…
Noah, your behaviour is completely revolting and my
appetite for the tofu scrambled I ordered is utterly
ruined. How am I supposed to finish the entire to-do
list I have compiled for the next twenty-four hours,
when I'm missing out on the nourishment afforded to
me by the most important meal of the day?"

He looked up, almost preening in satisfaction with a

faraway look in his eye. It made Rachel's stomach
churn at the very thought of what he seemed to be
reliving.

"Yeah, the pool hadn't been properly maintained. It

took a little extra effort to get it running smoothly
again," he quipped with a smug smirk at the obvious
revulsion on his friend's face.

"Ugh," Rachel cried, covering her ears in desperation,

"please stop. While I admire the initiative of your pool
cleaning business, I do not need to hear about the
unsavory aspects of such an operation, especially
when it involves previous acquaintances."

Noah leaned back in their booth, the awful red vinyl

shrieking in protest underneath him. "Well, that should
teach you to never make me sing chick songs in
public again."

"You did that in penitence for your misgivings," she

exclaimed in exasperation, deciding to throw her
hands up in the air for a little extra emphasis. "If you
want me to forgive you, I assure you, this current
tactic is not the road best travelled."

Noah sighed, while awkwardly fiddling with one of the

tiny cotton candy pink packages he'd already ripped
open. Silence engulfed their easy banter and they just
sat across from each other, not sure what to say next.

Truthfully, Rachel really wasn't that angry anymore.

By the time she stormed out of bros night—with Noah
not so subtly tailing her home to make sure she was
safe—and collapsed under the covers of her bed, the
anger just kind of left her in a whoosh. It was more
frustration—and her love for stuffed animals—that
spurred her to keep the charade going.

It was hard wanting the most popular girl in school

because everybody wanted the most popular girl in
school. Being admired was what made Quinn popular
and at the end of the day even being best friends with
the star running back on McKinley's abysmal football
team didn't help Rachel crack the top one hundred list
for people Quinn Fabray would want to date, let alone
talk to.

Sure, Rachel wasn't slushied anymore—after Noah's

mom got wind of the football team's favourite pastime
and demanded her son fix it or else—or taunted by
big meaty oafs in Letterman jackets but Rachel Berry
was an entity sitting outside of the popular circle
looking in.

And, she was fine with that. Sometimes, Rachel

wished for the acknowledgement she knew she
deserved—as a future star in the making—and the
flattery of people wanting to be just like her. It was
only natural, really, to want those things—everybody
wanted to be accepted—but the cost of such status
far outweighed the rewards.

Music was her life, it had been for as long as she

could remember, and cheerleading was a popular
girl's life. There was no room for anything else; Coach
Sylvester's meal supplement drink—patent pending—
made sure even sustenance paled in comparison.

So, yes, she was a little jealous of Noah. He got to be

around the girl she wanted the most, talk to her,
basically do everything Rachel wished she were
allowed. He had the right prerequisites—popularity,
over confidence, a Y Chromosome—to be with Quinn
Fabray: head cheerleader, Christ Crusader, Celibacy
Club founder.

He was everything Rachel was not and she was

never great at accepting the shortcomings that
prohibited her from obtaining her goals—she just
wanted it too much.

"Here you go, kids," a deep gravelly voice interrupted,

making Rachel twitch in surprise.

Marylyn—with her rudy-red lipstick accenting her

crooked smile and bright genuine eyes that gave
Rachel the feeling that she had known her for forever
—placed their meals on the table in front of them
before walking away.

Noah had enough meat piled on his plate that she

was sure they'd butchered a poor defenseless pig in
the back alley, just for him. He got the same thing
every time, taking advantage of being away from his
mother and her oppressive rules against eating any
pork related products.

Usually, his plate would already be halfway clean by

now but Noah seemed distracted with staring at the
marvel that was his artificial sweetener and sugar
mountain slowly collapsing into a grainy puddle
across the table.
Rachel was just about to say something, when he
looked up and his eyes had a genuine tint to them
that she hadn't seen in a long time.

"I'm really sorry, Rach," he sighed, running a hand

absently over his self-proclaimed Mohawk. "I just…
wasn't thinking, I guess. She called me over and told
me to bring alcohol…I'm just used to that meaning
something more so I didn't think about anything else
but getting that…and I wouldn't of…"

Rachel smiled softly; he always had trouble

articulating apologies. The only two he'd ever given
her before this were the exact same jumble of words
and she decided that was enough. Sure, he broke
almost all the commandments in their friend contract,
that she had him sign when they were young, but they
weren't six anymore.

This was new ground for them and he'd been so

understanding when she confessed she might like
girls a little more than boys that it was only fair she
afford him the same consideration back. Any big
confession was followed by an adjustment period and
this had been their first test.

"Okay, I have decided to be the bigger person and

outwardly acknowledge my acceptance of your
apology," Rachel confessed and when he looked up
at her with such a relieved expression, she added,
"But, you're staying in Glee or I'll withdraw my easy
compliance and I'll tell your mother about these little
pork runs you make me a co-conspirator in every
week."

He sighed loudly—and grumbled what sounded like

many curse words under his breath—before nodding
his head with extreme reluctance.

Rachel beamed and picked up her fork, her tofu

scrambled suddenly smelled heavenly. She made a
mental note to add time on her to-do list for drawing
up a new friendship contract to include more gender
specific rules in Noah's personally crafted—and
named—spank bank category.

---------

Five

"Babe," Puck whined, before reluctantly following after

a speed walking Rachel, who had jumped from his
truck the moment it was parked. "What's the rush?"

Rachel turned to look at him over her shoulder, an

impressive mixture of exasperation and disbelief in
her eyes, while she still somehow managed to eagerly
scramble towards his front door as well. "You know it
is most imperative that I arrive early to prepare for a
television lineup of Monday's caliber. Not doing so
would just be crass and insulting, not to mention
incredibly irresponsible."
Puck shook his head at her superior tone and the fact
that she was so passionate about something as
mundane as television. Rachel was always so full of
life, even when it dealt her a shitty hand. She never
really talked about it, but Puck knew being the
daughter of the only men in town not on the down low
was pretty tough on her.

He didn't really understand why people gave her a

hard time. Sure, the idea of two dudes together was
kind of gross—the whole pitching and catching thing
was just as terrible as when Rachel tricked him into
watching Brokeback Mountain by telling him it was a
movie about poverty-stricken environmentally
conscious cheerleaders trying to save their town's
mountain from demolition—but her dads were still
pretty cool.

They were much more chill about the pork thing and
they always invited him over to watch football on their
big screen every Sunday. Puck didn't really know a lot
about the whole gay relationship thing or whatever but
they stuck around for Rachel. That was more than his
old man ever did.

Rachel's dads really loved her, probably a little too

much. It was the reason they moved from New York
to this crappy town when Rachel was five, just to give
her the white picket fence childhood they never had.
Both worked long hours too—so they could pay for
whatever Rachel wanted—and that didn't leave them
time to be at home a lot either.

It was why Rachel was at his house every Monday

night to watch TV with his mom—not to be confused
by Thursday night when they'd watch Golden Girls
box sets and play Canasta—gobbling down kettle
corn because it didn't need any real butter.

Puck didn't really mind. He usually took the time his

mother was distracted to call up one of his many
frequent flyers to take them out to the lake for some
quality time in the flatbed of his truck, but tonight he
honestly didn't feel like it.

He hadn't since Quinn.

That night would run through his mind a lot—because,

come on, Quinn Fabray was smokin' hot—and he'd
get this feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost like
when he drank that month old milk when the guys
dared him to for twenty bucks. Remembering being
with other girls had never felt like that before and the
whole thing was just throwing him off his game. Puck
would ask Rachel—since it seemed like that stuff
chicks would know—but he didn't want to hurt her
again by rehashing the past. Besides, she had barely
forgiven him last time and he didn't want to go through
that hell again.

He could hear Rachel in the living room with his mom

when he finally got into the house. Puck leaned briefly
against the wall in the hallway, just out of sight from
both women currently greeting each other with joyful
smiles.

"Rachel," his mother cried with her arms stretched so

wide they were locked at the joints. "It's been ages
since I've seen you."

Rachel nodded before stepping into the waiting

embrace excitedly. Puck swore they were two
seconds away from bouncing up and down but
Rachel pulled away before it got that far, so she could
talk, of course.

"Oh Sarah, I know," she sighed, her breath hitching

almost like she was about to cry at the reminder of
their week apart. "Unfortunately, our forced separation
was most necessary or a lesson would've gone
forever unlearned. I could not allow such a situation to
occur and become an underlying unrequited
resentment that would fester until it was one my and
Noah's friendship might not recover from."

His mom nodded, looking mildly curious at the

reasons behind their fight, since neither of them had
told her, before she said, "You think my boy actually
learned something?"

Rachel tilted her head to the side and an amused

smirk quickly found its way onto her face. "I assure
you, the lesson was extremely memorable."

When they started talking about how distasteful

Rachel found some nerd guy to be, Puck quickly
bailed. His room wasn't much: just a bed, his guitar
and a long since broken dresser for his clothes. But,
the food he had forgotten to eat gave the room a lived
in smell and that was definitely much better than that
fake lemon crap his mom kept trying to get him to
use.

Puck didn't need a whole lot anyhow and getting what

he did need was never a problem. He was
resourceful, running a successful pool cleaning
business in Lima, Ohio was proof of that. Most of the
money from his mom's paycheck after bills and stuff
went to his younger sister Hannah anyway. She
deserved it much more than he did.

Grabbing the beer leftover from yesterday's midnight

7-Eleven run, he stuffed it in his backpack and tossed
the straps over his shoulders. Having his hands free
made it easier to hoist himself out his window and up
to the roof. He liked it up there and it was far enough
away from the living room that he could avoid
whatever freaky chick stuff was going on inside.

Digging through his bag, he opened a can of beer and

drank as much as he could before he ran out of
breath. Unfortunately, it didn't help get Quinn out of
his head but he drank what was left anyway and
chucked the can off the roof in frustration.

"That was entirely too close to hitting me," Rachel

huffed indignantly, her head just visible over the
eavestrough.

Puck looked over at her, watching as Rachel

struggled to safely pull herself through the window.
She always hated the climb up but loved the view
once she was there, something about the stars.

"No, it wasn't," he laughed smugly, daring Rachel to

disagree with a smirk. "You're just grandiose."

Rachel seemed mildly impressed before that look was

replaced by a bright smile at the fact she had
successfully maneuvered herself up on to the roof
without injury. Of course, seconds later, in true Rachel
Berry fashion, she was staring at him with a speech at
the ready, once again.

"Noah, I'm quite impressed by your verboseness

lately. I have no doubt the Word of the Day Calendar I
purchased for you is responsible."

"Huh?" Puck looked momentarily confused, trying to

remember where he'd heard the word he used earlier
and if he actually did have that calendar to thank,
even if it was extremely unlikely. "Oh, I re-gifted that
thing last year to my sister. Grandiose was the name
of the girl in the porno I watched last night."
The smirk on his face perfectly matched the overt
wink he sent her way and Puck waited for the lecture
he knew was coming. Rachel might like girls but she
wouldn't dare objectify them. After all, she was a
fembot at heart.

Rachel scoffed at the comment, effectively shutting

him down with a roll of her eyes and a heated glare
before she launched into her speech. "Really, Noah?
I've expressed my views on Pornography to you a
countless number of times and it's disconcerting that
you still insist on viewing such trash that uniformly
portrays women as passive objects for a man's sexual
urges. It is utterly sexist, completely devoid of class
and it could possibly be the driving force behind the
lack of respect the female gender receives in society
today. The mere fact that you insensitively throw such
a thing in my face makes me wonder why we're even
friends."

Puck wasn't too bothered, since the tiny brunette was

now crawling towards him, sadly in jeans and a
McKinley sweatshirt that looked suspiciously like his.
It was many sizes too big and the sleeves were rolled
up in to giant balls on her arms. The rest hung off of
her like a bed sheet but she definitely looked hot,
would've looked hotter if she was still wearing the
short skirt she had on earlier.

Rachel stopped beside him, stretching out her legs

and leaning back so her arms would hold her upright.
She glanced up at the thousands of stars above them
—there were so many out tonight that the sky was
lighter than it was dark—and the light breeze blew at
her hair, jostling the curls just enough to force the
brunette to reach up to move them out of her face.
Rachel really was beautiful; she was probably the
only girl in the whole world he ever thought that about.

"Why aren't you watching your crappy spy show?" he

asked instead, knowing if he responded to anything in
her rant, he'd never hear the end of it.

She turned to look at him with a small smile and a

shake of her head. "When I chanced entrance into
your room to find a sweater and didn't find a scantily
clad Santana Lopez glaring back at me like the last
time, I decided something must have been bothering
you. So, as it is important to me to excel at everything
I do, I risked my life scaling buildings like any
exceptional best friend would for the chance to talk to
you."

Puck snorted, completely amused by her motives,

and when Rachel gave him a look of disgust in
response to the sound, he was full out laughing in her
face seconds later. Rachel just rolled her eyes and
pulled out a water bottle from the front pocket of the
sweatshirt she borrowed.

"You sure you didn't just want to get me alone," he

teased raising his eyebrows up and down flirtatiously.
"I know stars are on your checklist for when you tear a
hole in your Berlin Wall."

She looked totally scandalized—all narrowed eyes

and a disgruntled frown—and it had been just what he
was going for. Puck liked being offensive, especially
with Rachel because she responded so dramatically,
but he wasn't actually being serious half the
time...with Rachel. He just found her angry ranting
amusing and it was important he be entertained.

"You are completely revolting and while a starlit sky

does produce a rather romantic atmosphere that
directly correlates to my inner being," Rachel paused
to look up at the sky, the stars twinkling obnoxiously
back at her in total kinship to their leader. "I'd never
loose my virginity to you, Noah and please refrain
from turning everything I said into an innuendo just
this once."

"Fine, babe, you're loss is another girl's gain," Puck

scoffed with a slight shrug. "If you want to hold out for
a night of mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne
on ice, you'll be waiting a hell of a long time."

Rachel shook her head with a small sigh. "I'm very

much saddened that you, and the hugely popular
classic rock band, the Eagles, find such a scene
romantic in any capacity but really, Noah, my
reluctance to give my first time to you has nothing to
do with you personally. I might be in the minority in
today's day and age but I still hold onto the belief that
one's first time should be with somebody you love,"
she explained while shyly staring down and fiddling
with the water bottle in her lap.

"It got me Katie Ramsey on prom night last year,"

Puck murmured, his eyes glazed over in thought
about that smokin' hot night as a freshman with the
graduating head cheerio.

Rachel quickly looked up and all traces of her

uncharacteristic bout of nerves were gone. "As,
sickening as I find that look on your face, I'm sure the
girl you speak of was satisfied with the outcome of
your coupling. Despite my reservations about how
you live that part of your life, you're always upfront
about your motives and you'd never force somebody
to comply to your demands."

Puck looked away, searching through his bag for

another beer, while he tried not to remember how
hard he worked to convince Quinn. He was sure
Rachel would have changed her mind if she knew
about the hazy memories he had over top of the head
cheerleader: kissing her neck, bruising her lips, her
breathing out no's until her resolve was too weak to
say anything but yes.

But, he didn't force her. Rachel was right; Puck didn't

think he could ever do that.
Quinn told him to bring the booze and Quinn had
pulled him into her room. She kissed him back and
panted in his ear. She never pushed him away, even
when he looked up at her at the last second before
hitting the home run.

Puck guzzled half his beer and when he felt Rachel

reach out to clasp his forearm, he knew she had
noticed something was up. Puck reluctantly placed his
can between his feet and turned to look at her
questioning eyes.

"Don't girls want it just as much as guys do?" he

asked slowly, watching as Rachel's eyebrows slanted
in confusion.

"Normally, we do, sometimes more, depending on

how emotionally involved we are. Women are just
better at hiding it behind self-control," she explained
with a slight tilt of her head that caused the long
waves of her hair to fall carelessly over her shoulder.
"What does that have to do with…Noah you don't
have—"

"No!" he yelled, way louder than he actually wanted,

since Rachel jumped in surprise. "Well, yes, because
you're a hot Jew but not because I like you or
anything."

Rachel shook her head, rolling her eyes, as she

withdrew her hand from his arm. "It is nice to know
you find me attractive and are not put off by my nose
in the slightest, but if your question had nothing to do
with me than why did you ask it?"

Puck tried to figure out how to answer the question

without telling her the real reason he had asked it. He
couldn't tell Rachel about Quinn—not after just getting
her to talk to him again—he definitely needed to wait
on that. Lying wouldn't work either—she'd see right
though it because they've been friends too long for
her not to know—and it would just get her angry.
Rachel really hated liars.

"I guess I've been feeling sorta off, you know?" When
Rachel just continued looking at him, Puck decided to
just go with it, since she wasn't yelling yet. "Like I feel
like I ate something bad but I'm not sick."

Rachel started giggling, her tiny body shook beside

him in total commitment to her laughter until the
movement jostled her water bottle from her lap and it
started rolling down the roof.

"No!" she screamed in agony, like she was watching a

person getting ready to step off the edge of a building.

Puck moved to grab her wrist before she launched

after it and they both watched her Evian bottle tumble
to its death. Rachel whimpered softly after the dull
thud could be heard from when it hit the ground.
"It's too bad nobody was underneath that. If a penny
can kill somebody, we'd be in the Guinness Book for
sure!" Puck exclaimed, nodding in agreement to his
own statement.

"Noah," Rachel chided, her arms flinging up

dramatically, effectively breaking his hold. "I cannot
believe how insensitive you are, wishing somebody
would die for a picture in a giant book of
miscellaneous two-bit talents and a battle for whose is
bigger. Furthermore, it wouldn't be our names listed,
but the unfortunate soul unlucky enough to be struck
with a falling water bottle in the dead of night in Lima,
Ohio."

Puck looked at her with a smirk. "That would be pretty

unlucky."

Rachel had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. She

couldn't possibly encourage such behaviour. Instead,
she decided to focus on their conversation before her
water bottle met an untimely end.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you described
feeling guilty about something," she said
conversationally with an amused glint to her eyes until
they turned darker with worry. "If this is about what
happened with Quinn, please don't feel guilty on my
account. I was never really mad at you, I just had a
hard time facing the fact that this time I'll never obtain
what I want too much."

Puck looked down at the bag in between them and

tried to determine if that feeling went away with
Rachel telling him it was okay. Quinn clinging to his
arms and telling him she was president of the
Celibacy Club, as he placed kisses down her neck,
flashed through his mind and the feeling just got
worse.

He didn't understand. Nothing he did with Quinn was

any different than any other girl, well, he was a bit
drunker than usual but everything else was the same.
He liked her sure, but not for more than the normal
thrill of the chase and yet, this feeling was for her, not
for his best friend.

Puck glanced up at Rachel and she was looking at

him with big brown eyes, her lip catching briefly
between her teeth when she noticed him staring at
her. She opened her mouth to say something but
Puck quickly cut her off.

"Let's toast to that," he said quickly, while reaching

into his bag and holding out the can he retrieved her
way.

She stared at it briefly and then looked up at him for a

second before reaching out to grab it.

"Okay," Rachel said softly, still staring at him with this

intense look that let him know she knew there was
something more to it but thankfully, for whatever
reason, she was deciding to let him off the hook.

He was hoping that this guilt thing would go away

before Rachel asked him about it. Puck was already
planning on avoiding Quinn anyway, unless they
happened to be alone and he could taunt her without
Finn finding out. Just a little to make up for all the
times she called him a loser because he wasn't, Puck
wasn't his dad.

Sure, what he could remember about that night was

hot—and he kind of would like a second go-around to
fill in the blanks of a memory he was planning on
reusing nightly for a long time—but pissing off Rachel
again wasn't worth all that.

Whatever was going on with his mojo would soon be

gone and he'd sex up Santana for a weekend to get
back on track. Yes, everything would be normal
again, he was sure of it.

---------

Six

Quinn wondered what God expected her to do. He

knew her father, created her father, and yet He gave
her this baby regardless of the risks involved, mainly
her daddy burning her like a witch if he found out. And
he would find out; there was only so much she could
conceal until she was the size of a small country. She
kind of felt abandoned in a way, like she was given
this impossible situation and just left to suffer all on
her own.

Before, Quinn had liked to think she was bound by

morality. That she stood by her convictions because
they were just and honorable, even with everyone
else around her giving in to their desires. It had been
hard sometimes because her body wasn't governed
by the same integrity as her head. Having a boyfriend
about as sensual as a Golden Retriever had certainly
helped but occasionally his fumbling would hit just the
right spot. That was usually when she'd pull back and
make them pray in an attempt to collect her bearings
before she let herself cross that line. It had worked
with Finn—because he had no idea what the hell he
was doing—but it hadn't worked with Puck.

As a result, she was now pregnant, morally bankrupt

and royally fucked.

The state of Ohio wasn't exactly the best place for

pregnant minors interested in hiding said baby's
existence from daddy; a simple Google search and a
semester of Government had made that explicitly
clear. So she'd been prepared, armed with a fake I.D
Santana had gotten her for a bottle of vodka from her
parent's wet bar.
Quinn had sat outside the clinic for three hours
yesterday, the special clinic listed in the brochure a
harried nurse had shoved into her hand seconds after
informing her that her test results were positive a
week before. Quinn had watched so many people go
inside of that clinic and she could see every single
one of them, the ones that were exactly like her. That
broken helplessness swirling in their eyes had been
the same look staring back at her since she'd found
out about the unwanted being inside of her.

There were women shuffling in by themselves, others

had men on their arms that never looked happy to be
there, regardless of who they were with. Whether it
was because they wanted the baby or just felt
inconvenienced, Quinn still wasn't sure. Then there
were young girls just like her, some with disappointed
parents or siblings and others without. She wondered
if those that had someone by their side knew how
lucky they were, she liked to think probably not.

Quinn was ashamed to say that it hadn't been a

resurgence of faith that chased her away before she
got the guts to go in, it had been those women's eyes
when they left. Quinn wasn't sure what she'd
expected them to look like but she hadn't thought
they'd look exactly the same. After that, going in there
didn't really seem worth it anymore.

So, this morning while she hunched over her toilet

and Coach Sylvester had started yelling via blow horn
outside of her window about a surprise 20k run in the
woods, Quinn finally came to terms with the fact that
she was doomed to see this through. There was no
easy fix, no miraculous cure; just Band-Aids to
temporary slow the bleeding.

Finn was Band-Aid number one. Morally she shouldn't

even be thinking about it—there was only one choice
—but sitting outside an abortion clinic for half of her
Saturday kind of warped her views on integrity. She
just needed to think, preferably some place alone,
except Quinn loathed the quiet. She hated the
stillness in the air, the tense passing of time, just
waiting for the evitable moment where all that silence
was broken. It always left her on edge, coiled in
anticipation, dreading that feeling of not knowing what
came next.

Usually music fixed that, she had a whole iPod full of

playlists for every one of her moods, but it had died
this morning on Coach Sylvester's highway to hell.
The private balcony in the auditorium—once used to
woo potential investors in McKinley's arts program
and now a popular student make out spot—was a
very distant alternative, right around a last resort, but
it would do the trick. That leprechaun that played the
piano was always there in the morning because
Brittany had made friends with him and liked to eat
her Lucky Charms listening to him before class. It
filled the quiet and truthfully he wasn't half bad, just
super creepy if for the fact that he was always around.

Only when Quinn arrived, he wasn't there and neither

was Brittany. The Glee Club was there instead. The
school had been a buzz last week with the news of
McKinley's resident bad boy Casanova joining the
polyphonic loser spree. Quinn really hadn't believed it
but there he was flexing his muscles at a laughing
Manhands up on the stage until his gruff voice broke
through the sound of her giggles.

"I know Cher's like all happy gay or whatever but the
Puckster is one hundred percent straight. No way am
I wearing feathers and sequins singing a song called
A Different Kind of Love Song."

The gay kid stepped forward, pulling that black girl

that tried out for the Cheerios last year and was cut
because Sue said her blood test came back tater tot.

"All the more reason for me to sing the lead," he said

with a nod and he nudged the girl beside him until she
nodded too.

Manhands stomped her foot in that annoying way

Quinn had seen too many times when the tiny midget
didn't get her way and her eyes narrowed in that way
that could only mean indignant speech.

"While I appreciate the initiative, I too believe that

Cher is far too small a niche to sing for a school
assembly. To garner interest from our large, albeit
music underprivileged, student body we must sing
something more accessible to the teens today. I'd
suggest something alternative, leaning more towards
the rock genre to keep the performance interesting."

Puck nodded, showing his support. Quinn never

understood why somebody like him hung around
Manhands in the first place. He was popular and
Berry was an annoying loud mouth that had lived in
the dredges of the sub-basement since she was born.
Yet, they were best friends, despite numerous
opportunities to leave for more trendy friendly
pastures, Puck always stuck around.

"How about Rebel Rebel? David Bowie is one quarter

Jew, you know, and totally badass!"

"I…I…I like tha…that song," the stutterer said, coming

out of the shadows in her usual Goth vampire gear.

Then the kid in the wheelchair rolled himself up. "Me

too. I can play it on the electric guitar and get the jazz
band to help with the music."

Manhands clapped her hands with a bright beaming

smile, as aggravating as ever. "Excellent, so it is
decided. The vote is four to two, Mr. Bowie it is."

The gay kid straightened up, clearly not liking the

verdict, and ran a hand through his hair with a
pedantic flip of his wrist. "Well, we'll see what Mr.
Schue has to say."

Manhands seemed to deflate and Puck stepped

forward, staring the other guy down. "Shut up,
Georgie. We're doing the song and if you don't like it,
you and Mustang can take a hike."

"Fine," the boy huffed and dragged Mustang—that

couldn't be her name because Santana would've
been all over the girl—with him off the stage.

"Noah—" Manhands started but Puck quickly

interrupted, tossing his arm over her shoulders in a
side hug.

"Don't worry, Babe, they'll be back. Now lets call

practice while there is still time for breakfast. I gots a
craving for a McMuffin big time."

The four started to leave seconds later and Quinn

watched Puck and Manhands walk out the door after
the other two. She wasn't sure what it was about the
scene that made her chest ache. Part of her was
convinced it was just a residual effect from the run
this morning, since every other part of her body felt
ready to fall off, but then she wouldn't be feeling
wistful, almost like she'd lost something, if that were
the case.

Suddenly, Quinn felt it, Coach Sylvester's protein

shake starting to come up. Putting her hand over her
mouth, she jogged off to the bathroom, passing the
duo that had given her such pause just seconds
before, and absently acknowledging she was no
closer to figuring out what to do about Finn.

As the bathroom door slammed shut behind her,

Quinn realized she really didn't care.

-----------

Seven

Rachel was brash, bossy and a little abrasive. She

substituted bravado for her conspicuous lack of height
and her personal mantra of Broadway or die
predictably scared off the majority of the general
population. She ate weird food and dressed in
unusual clothes. Her propensity to talk likened her to
a broken recording of an audio James Joyce novel
and when it came to her career, she was as self-
serving as they come.

And yet, even with a list like that, restraint—or lack

there of—was what Rachel liked to think of as her
biggest character flaw. It was almost
incomprehensible to most, if they stuck around long
enough to ask, but then Rachel was a complicated
person to understand.

She just wanted things, wanted things so much that

she allowed herself to overlook the obvious in favour
of attaining what she most coveted. That relentless
need to grasp at her heart's ever fluctuating desire
had quite possibly left her a little crazy in the end
because she still went into the same situations fully
expecting different results.

So while Rachel stood there listening to Noah blather

on about the possibility of getting sausage and ham
on one McMuffin, she already knew she wasn't going
to go with him. Sure McDonald's had recently added a
delicious selection of smoothies to their beverages
menu—and Rachel had previously pledged to sample
said additions in their entirety—but any thoughts of
fruity drinks were derailed the moment Quinn had run
passed.

The blonde had looked sick, incongruously pale

instead of an unappealing shade of green. News had
gotten around—Kurt had told Mercedes, who
consequently had no volume control at all—that the
Cheerios were spotted pulling a sleigh bound Sue
Sylvester along the trails in the woods behind the
Hummel residence a little before dawn and Rachel's
flare for the dramatic had her almost convinced that
Quinn Fabray lay all but dead behind the bathroom
door.

Noah still hadn't seemed to notice her preoccupation

and when his watch beeped signaling the top of the
hour, he pushed off the locker to the left of hers that
he'd been leaning on.

"Dude, we got to go before the bell. It doesn't matter

to me but you're all one with the truancy cops, so..."
Noah trailed off in favour of following his own advice
until he realized Rachel wasn't following him. "Are you
coming or what?"

Rachel shook her head, more so in an attempt to rid

her eyes of their absent sheen but it doubled as
prelude to her answer as well. "I wouldn't know them
by name if they weren't posted outside your house
every morning. Besides, making them cookies is only
proper etiquette when practicing the art of good
hospitality, Noah. I'm also going to have to pass on
breakfast in favour of procuring the sheet music for
our chosen song in preparation of the practice after
school. Being prepared will further serve as incentive
for Mr. Schue to see the benefits of our choice and I
think it would only be prudent of me to give myself
ample time just incase."

Noah looked dumbfounded but carelessly shrugged

his shoulders seconds later. "Whatever, Rach, I'm out.
Good luck with it or whatever."

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, as she watched him

go, until she was reminded of his tendency to loiter
without her. "You better come back in time for first
period!"
Noah just waved his hand dismissingly over his head
and Rachel, deciding that it was the best response
she was going to get from him, turned to shut her
locker door. Books and purse in hand, she made her
way toward the bathroom, reasoning that her entering
said room wouldn't be out of the ordinary at all.

Once inside, Rachel didn't immediately see the

blonde anywhere. She decided that was a good sign
until she heard the unpleasant sounds that thwarted
her chances at Bulimia just as much as her lack of a
gag reflex did. Sue Sylvester had run the poor girl to
illness and Rachel's heart clenched briefly in
response.

She pulled out the gum and water bottle she had in
her purse while she waited. When the toilet flushed,
Rachel strengthened up and looked in the mirror
attempting nonchalance. Noah said she was too high
strung for it—when she asked him to teach her in a
bid to hone her skills as an actor—but besides a brief
stutter step, Quinn hadn't done a thing so far.

Seconds ticked by—Quinn had started moving again

but the Diva wasn't sure where—until Rachel finally
determined that enough time had passed to sell her
presence as casual coincidence. She turned to look at
the blonde and found her all the way on the other side
of the room, having put as many sinks as possible
between them.
"Oh, hello, Quinn," exclaimed Rachel, completely
convincing in her surprise as she was sure the critics
would agree. "I'd ask you how your morning had been
thus far but I unknowingly answered that question just
seconds ago when I walked in."

Unfortunately, her accomplished performance hadn't

prepared her for the possibility of Quinn ignoring her.
The blonde just continued on with fixing her makeup
in the mirror like the brunette wasn't even there and
Rachel's entire body snapped to attention as if she
were a tiny foot solider getting ready to march.

"You know, you don't have to be so rude. I was only

going to offer you a bottle of water and gum to help
with the nausea." When Quinn still gave no sign that
she was actually listening, Rachel balled her hands
into fists and decided on a different tactic.
"Acknowledging people when they are conversing
with you are the kind of manors I'd expect someone
like you to be fully versed in. Apparently, I was
wrong."

Quinn's eyes snapped to hers in seconds and a

familiar burst of frustration and nerves rocketed its
way through Rachel's body. It was always like this
with the blonde, ever since Rachel joined Quinn's
kindergarten class and refused to share her gold star
stickers. Quinn Fabray only ever spoke to her with a
raised voice and a variety of glares. Today's seemed
to be a mix between conceit and outrage, much to
Rachel's displeasure.

"Someone like me?" Quinn sneered, the blonde's

slender body instantly coiling for a brawl. "You mean
somebody who actually has a life and friends that I
didn't have to have Puck threaten into liking me?
Yeah, that does sound like me, I can't say the same
for you though, Manhands."

Rachel's jaw clenched to stop whatever was bubbling

up to the surface while Quinn was still poised to
strike. Every part of her that Rachel could see looked
as razor-sharp as broken glass, completely out of
place for a body cloaked in cheer. The back of
Rachel's throat yearned for a sip from the bottle in her
hands but she refused to back down. Noah regretted
not standing up to his father everyday and Rachel
was determined not to break the promise she made
him to never allow herself to feel the same.

"If you must insult me, you should reconsider your

position next time," Rachel stated with a most
deliberate crossing of her arms. "Give or take a few
words and mentioning Sue Sylvester's school wide
reign of terror, being her minion seems a lot like the
life you accused me of having."

Quinn gritted her teeth and Rachel was wondering if

she went too far when the blonde stepped toward her,
closing their gap to two sinks instead of three.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Quinn leaning
forward in mock inquisition only irritated Rachel
further, so it was relatively simple to push her
uneasiness aside. "I was too busy trying to figure out
if you were wearing earrings or if your nose just had
it's own gravitational pull. I came to the conclusion
that something so large couldn't possibly get away
with defying gravity like I'm sure you hoped."

Rachel resisted the urge to reach up and announce

her insecurities to the venomous viper that was
closing in fast. Quinn was moving again and they
were facing off at opposing ends of only one cheap
slab of porcelain in no time.

"Quinn," she started, pausing only temporarily to

square her shoulders, "it isn't healthy to bottle up so
much aggression and unleash it on the people around
you. I can only imagine what the stress of holding that
in is doing to your body, especially if you're getting
sick. Please at least take the water, as I fear the
repercussions of dehydration settling in."

The cheerleader's eyes flitted down to the bottle in

Rachel's hand before re-aiming the daggers back at
the tiny brunette's face. "Stubbles, I'm not drinking
anything contaminated by your man hands, now get
the hell out of my face."

"Quinn, I assure you my hands can do no such thing."

Rachel moved to place the water and the gum packet
on the side of the sink between them before looking
back up at dark hazel eyes. "I'll leave both items
behind, just incase you change your mind. Your
health should be of upmost importance to you,
especially when adolescence is the most important
stage of the body's development."

Something out of place momentarily swirled in the

blonde's tempestuous gaze before Rachel turned
away to the door. The Diva really couldn't be sure
what it was but it certainly didn't belong. In dark
weighty waters, it had only just managed to surface
so briefly that Rachel knew what she had seen was
something she shouldn't have.

Quinn rolled her eyes, her arms bowed with her

hands gripping her hips. "Do you ever leave,
Manhands, or are you a fun-sized disease that never
goes away?"

Rachel stopped and looked back, taking in the

blonde's angry eyes, rage-thinned lips and abnormally
pale complexion. She supposed that almost failing to
remember that Quinn had been throwing up moments
before had been what the cheerleader was after with
her atrociously harsh words, but Rachel hadn't
forgotten. She was still just as worried about the other
girl's wellbeing as she had been before, maybe more
so since Quinn didn't look to be interested in caring
for herself at all.
"Drink the water, Quinn," she sighed before continuing
her walk to the door.

Once in the hall, Rachel pledged to keep an eye on

the blonde; at least until she was sure Quinn was
taking care of herself. It was what Rachel did for
people she cared about, even for somebody like
Quinn Fabray who had no interest in caring for her
back.

---------

Eight

Business was slowing down now that one of the bars

in Lima was hosting ladies nights on the weekends.
Those bastards were poaching his core clientele with
dollar drinks and some guy named Frère Jacques
manning the bar.

His main mid-day talent had even dried up too. All the
hot girls that he could count on to skip school to put
out were now on the Cheerios—Sally Winters was the
last hold out, she really loved the Puckster—and
going to classes as Sue Sylvester spies was
unfortunately a must-do for all the fine girls of cheer.

Even Santana—who never said no—was being more

of a bitch than usual and she refused to go near him
until he had cash to buy her things. Actually, the only
person even remotely available to fuck Quinn out of
his mind happened to be Finn's mom—seriously the
woman hadn't stopped calling to make an
appointment to get her pool cleaned since he'd left the
first time—and even Puck was man enough to admit
he'd already screwed over the guy enough, even if
Finn didn't know about it.

And all that was the reason he was currently in

Biology. Sure, occasionally, Puck liked to go to class.
Most of the time, it was just to fulfill the bare minimum
attendance requirement to keep Rachel and her
truancy chums off his back, but other times it was
because he had nothing better to do like now.

Lima was just a lot of open space and windy roads.

Getting drunk and shooting stuff kind of summed up
how he spent most of his time while skipping school
these days. It wasn't like he could hang out at home,
not with his mother becoming the newest waitress to
take on the night shift at Earl's Diner.

Really, he just didn't like school and despite what

people thought that didn't mean he had no ambition.
Puck wanted to get out of Lima and make enough
money to buy his mom a house like those famous
people did when they made it big. He wanted to prove
to her that he wasn't anything like his father, even if
Puck looked exactly like him.

He was no Lima Loser.

And though Rachel never agreed with half the stuff he
did, she was the only one that agreed with that
because her whole life was about leaving town and
proving everybody wrong. But, he didn't have a voice
like hers; nobody would be knocking at his door in a
couple years offering him a full expenses paid trip out
of town.

So, Puck just made sure to do enough to get by,

waiting until his diploma. His grades probably weren't
good enough for college, but then Puck didn't really
have an interest in going anyway. As long as he
wasn't flunking out, his marks were fine with him and
he planned on walking out of town on his own terms,
kind of like a badass outlaw in an old western movie.

"Mr. Puckerman, could you least attempt to make it

seem like you're retaining some of today's lesson
plan?"

Puck leaned back in his chair—sure he wasn't paying

attention but it was impossible to startle a badass—
staring down old McMullen, a strict son of a bitch with
Urkel glasses and a sweater vest. He was also the
supervising teacher in detention five years running, so
Puck liked to think they were kind of pals after all the
time they spent together last year.

"Sure, Mr. M, I'm all over it," Puck promised with a

large smirk.
The teacher sighed loudly and silenced the few kids
that found Puck's statement funny with his ever-
popular look of detention.

When the guy started talking again, Puck zoned out,

finding the blonde across the room at lot more
interesting. He had noticed something was off the
moment Quinn came into class. More specifically,
something was off with Finn and Quinn—McKinley's
weak attempt at a power couple—and Puck couldn't
help but think Fabray had told her boyfriend Puck had
gotten there first. His stomach twisted at the thought
and he was only more sure when Finn continued to
ignore the blonde beside him for the rest of class.

Puck was after Quinn the moment the bell rang, finally
catching up to her at her locker.

"Fabray, what's goin' on?"

Puck said it as careless as he could, which wasn't

really something he had to work at much. He might've
been a little off lately but the Puckster was still as
lackadaisical as they come. Puck frowned slightly
when he realized his inner thoughts had just been
invaded by Rachel words, he could tell because of all
the extra syllables. Another one, damn it.

"Why are you talking to me?" Quinn snarled coolly

and she didn't even give a look his way.
It irritated him; how Quinn acted so much better than
him when really she wasn't at all. He might have
pushed for that night to happen but it wouldn't of
happened if she didn't want it too. Puck again
questioned why he felt guilty for her at all when she
had treated him like an errand boy all his life.

"Oh, I'm returning the key to your chastity belt," he

said conversationally while leaning against the locker
beside her open one, "you know, so you can pretend I
wasn't inside you already when you and the boyfriend
finally go all the way on the wedding night."

Puck knew he hit a nerve and smirked proudly, even

though Quinn was still turned away from him and
couldn't see it. The grip she had on her locker door
left her fingers almost white and her search for
whatever she was looking for in her locker faltered for
a little too long for him to miss.

Then she was looking at him and Puck realized how

pissed off she was. Her eyes were darker than he'd
ever seen them—the night he sexed her up included
—and the look on her face could only be described as
evil. Quinn leaned in closer—probably to make sure
nobody overheard—and Puck fought to keep
appearing unaffected, even though he was battling
with the need to kiss her or run away.

"Lets get one thing straight, that night was a mistake.

The only reason I let you near me was because you
got me drunk and I was feeling fat that day. So don't
talk to me in the halls, don't stare at me in class and
don't think it changed anything between us. You're
still the Lima Loser you've always been and I'm not
interested in anything with someone like you. Just
forget that night ever happened because it won't be
happening again."

Puck clenched his fists briefly, having only one urge

now and Quinn was lucky he didn't hit chicks. He took
in her appearance, it being almost identical to his—
ridged body, balled fists, clenched teeth, angry eyes
—and decided to fight back the only way he could.

"What makes you think I wanted anything more than

what you were begging me to take? You're nothing
special, and Babe, it wasn't even good enough to
make it worth remembering."

Her eyes flashed and Puck didn't realize what was

about to happen until his cheek throbbed with the pain
of being slapped.

"Fuck you," she snarled and Puck just stood there as

she tore down the hall like the angriest woman he'd
ever pissed off.

He felt sick once again, as he watched her until she

was gone, and Rachel was definitely right: what he
was feeling was definitely guilt. Puck just swallowed
briefly though before putting on his regular smirk and
strutting after Quinn like nothing had happened at all.

A few people were looking at him, but not many. Him

being slapped was a normal occurrence at McKinley;
really it probably would've gone unnoticed if it hadn't
been Quinn Fabray doing the slapping like one of his
flavours of the week that he told to take a hike.

Puck was about to turn the corner into the music hall
when he was grabbed and pulled into an empty
classroom. He really hoped it wasn't Quinn—since he
doubted she'd be pulling him in there for a little TLC—
and when he realized that it was Rachel, he was a
little surprised since she had been completely missing
in action in his life lately.

It had been a week since Rachel had blown off

McDonald's for New Directions, possibly Nude
Erections, Puck wasn't sure. Schumacher's voice got
really high and girlie when he was talking about show
choir, so it was hard to tell. Puck had wanted to ask
Rachel about it a couple days ago—because he was
really trying to make an effort to be a part of the team
or whatever—and when she was nowhere to be
found, he had finally put it all together.

Puck didn't think she was doing it on purpose—

meaning he was sure she wasn't mad at him again—
because she still came over after school and they
made a Costco run during the beginning of the week
that had Rachel coming back fifteen minutes later with
three bag boys carrying enough Vitamin Water and
granola bars to feed a small country. It was just during
school hours, his best friend was gone.

Rachel got like that sometimes when she was in the

middle of one of her crazy episodes and Puck had
learned that it was best not to risk being dragged in
the middle of it by asking. So last night, when she
took him to get his Breadstix on as an apology for not
being around, blaming it on their different classes and
her preoccupation with making sure Mr. Spanish's—
Schumacher, no, well, it was something like that—
incompetence didn't ruin her career, Puck quickly took
her at face value even though he knew she wasn't
telling the truth.

She had said it in that loud overbearing show voice

that she used at school, when she was trying to
bullshit her way through the day. It was why Puck
knew she was lying but he had just nodded, offering
her a breadstick from the very top of the breadstick
tower he built instead.

Of course now Rachel was in front of him and he

realized she was angry too—looking very much like a
smaller version of Quinn but much more showy with
her arms crossed and face scrunched— so Puck was
starting to think that maybe he'd thought wrong.

"Rach—"
"Don't." Rachel put up her hands, physically barring
him from talking before throwing them up in the air. "I
can't…I thought…"

When she started taking deep breaths—something he

knew her therapist had taught her to do to calm
herself down when she was being bullied—Puck
knew this wasn't about his fight with Quinn.

He took a step forward, trying to decide if she was

calm enough yet not kill him for touching her and
ultimately decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Rach, what—"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head, "just…I

cannot comprehend how you could be so careless."

Puck looked at her confused, trying to figure out what

she was saying before just deciding to ask now that
she looked kind of calmed down. "I don't get what
you're trying to say, Rach."

Then she looked up and she had this look in her eyes
that he'd never forget. Rachel looked absolutely
terrified and he didn't understand until she said,
"Quinn is pregnant, Noah."

-------
Nine

Berry was a freak of nature. Not only did she have no

problem walking around like a gender confused
chorus line member, but she lived her life as a
succession of top forty hits stuck on repeat. Today's,
and really if Quinn was totally telling the harrowing
truth, this past week had been dedicated to the most
peculiar and fundamentally creepy songs ever
produced. Only Manhands would think a song about
stalking by a band called The Police somehow
ironically justified and omitted her from the stalking
rule.

That psycho popped out of nowhere like Casper the

Ugliest Ghost—it's greedy little eyes wide and oh so
creepy—offering Vitamin Water and granola bars as if
Quinn was a refugee that was about to drop dead
from malnutrition. Quinn wasn't sure what she did to
encourage it, actually she was sure it had to do with
their little exchange in the washroom a while back, but
whatever the case she needed it to stop.

Except, the merry little midget wouldn't get lost.

Insults just seemed to go in one ear and out the other

and threats only produced a glazed over hurt look that
was accompanied with a simultaneous placating nod.
Quinn even tried to renew bathing the girl in slushies
but short of doing it herself—which she would
absolutely not—it wouldn't be happening. The football
team refused to go against an order from one of their
own, well, the team minus Karofsky, who tried
exponentially hard to trade a round of slushies for
sexual favors.

Not even in hell—which with all things considered—

Quinn was already half way there.

And now—when she needed validation for her

unvoiced thoughts—that thing was finally nowhere to
be found. Quinn hadn't seen Berry anywhere at all
today. Not creeping behind garbage cans or peering
at her from somewhere in the hall with the intensity of
an axe murder looking for a victim—the virility tainted
pixie stick had just vanished.

Quinn had a sickening feeling that it might be

because of Puck. Their argument hadn't exactly been
discreet and it hadn't been pleasant either. She
supposed this was just another tier to her punishment
and truthfully, Quinn didn't know how much more she
could take.

A small part of her was glad when Puck came up to

her because she was just so tried of keeping up
pretenses, especially Finn. Scaring him into
submission by over exaggerating her annoyance with
him about some brainless thing he said to her about
something or other—really that kind of described
everything that came out of his mouth—used to be
fun when she wasn't pregnant out of wedlock with a
manwhore's baby. It didn't help that she was no closer
to deciding on what to do about him, probably
because she avoided thinking about it constantly.

For a moment, Quinn had almost wished Puck could

somehow see it—the parasite living inside of her—
somehow see what he did to her—what she saw
every time she looked in the mirror—and make it go
all away. Just like in the auditorium when he made all
Manhands' ridiculous gleeful dreams come true,
Quinn wanted that, she deserved that damn it.

Except, it wouldn't really happen. She was just

another girl to him and he couldn't truly do anything
anyway. Berry being a social retard wasn't anywhere
close to Quinn's bad luck of spawning a sex addict's
demon the first time she ever had sex. Apparently, the
'C word' really did help to mention and Puck's promise
of 'trust me' didn't really count.

"Hello, Quinn." The whispered greeting was too soft

for the voice to be recognizable but common sense
made it obvious it was a girl.

Quinn cursed whoever it was outside of her bathroom

stall—ironically the same one she'd been in when she
found out she was pregnant—and violently wiped at
the tears on her face, her hands only smearing the
evidence into big wet blotches. She quickly grabbed
at some toilet paper instead, silently hoping she'd be
left alone as she worked on removing all traces of her
weakness.

There was a sigh and then the walls shook around

her. Quinn was certain the other girl must've fell back
to lean against the door between them. They
obviously weren't leaving and really only one girl was
dumb enough to trap her inside of a bathroom stall for
a chat.

Berry.

Quinn knew it was her and a quick glance down to the

open space under the door proved it. Meticulously
buffed yellow Penny Loafers and matching argyle
knee socks—signature pieces in the dwarf's wardrobe
—the quintessential kamikaze romance of what not to
wear.

"It's a bit juvenile not to answer me, wouldn't you

agree?" Quinn's fists clenched in response to the
whisper, why Berry was whispering the cheerleader
really didn't know. "I'm quite aware you're in there,
Quinn, as I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

The blonde took a breath and calmly loosened the

grip of her hands, wincing at the wet toilet paper
pasted across her palms. She set about scrapping it
off when Stubbles started talking again.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't covet the idea of

speaking to myself over others as most choose to
believe. I did in fact accomplish the skill of listening in
kindergarten just like everyone else. It's just that
nobody ever converses with me about things that
don't include an insult of some kind and a masochist I
am not."

Quinn tossed the paper glob in her hands into the

garbage, shaking her head at the annoying rant being
forced upon her. Putting a stop to it would be really
easy but what Puck had said was still too fresh in her
mind. Her façade had cracked a little bit and she
wasn't sure what to do because it had never
happened before. This thing inside of her was
screwing her up—she was better than this.

Still, nobody knew, Quinn didn't think Puck knew—

that she was shaken enough to hide out in a
bathroom stall—either. She refused to give him the
satisfaction of knowing what Berry would inevitably
tell him if Quinn were to go out there to punch her
face in. His spawn was already making her puke her
guts out; she didn't need his nauseating self-satisfied
smirk to do it too.

"I see you're still continuing to pretend not to be

present and while I'd like to have this conversation
face-to-face, I suppose sacrifices have to be made."
There was a pause and some movement—Quinn
crossed her fingers and hoped that the Gremlin made
a run for it—but then it was talking again. "I apologize,
I had a text message to attend to that just couldn't be
ignored. As I was saying, I have an important matter
to discus with you that inadvertently came to my
attention over the past week I've been providing you
with the proper amount of sustenance for living a
healthy life. I'm sure you've noticed me doing so,
correct?"

Quinn just shifted her weight on the toilet seat, silently

wondering if already breaking a commandment—
though not exactly by definition—gave her a free pass
on murder. Not that she really cared at this point. In a
couple months time, she'd have nothing to lose when
she looked like she binged on a truckload of breakfast
burritos and not only an extra one.

"I'm going to proceed as if you've given a positive

response, since the question was more rhetorical in
nature anyway. Your overzealousness with your
insults and threats this past week has made it
perfectly clear that you knew of my motives already."

Quinn absently leaned against the dispenser to her

left, trying to figure out where Berry was going with
her insane drivel and how long it would take. Until the
thought struck her suddenly—Quinn's lip making its
way between her teeth as she nervously played the
tiny cross resting just below her collarbone—she
wondered if Manhands knew about…

No.
Berry loved herself way too much to be that
observant. Stubbles was only after her now because
she accidently stumbled into the bathroom that day.
Quinn wasn't even showing yet, there was no way.

"I'm sure it's quite clear that the events in washroom a

week ago had me realizing how horrible your eating
habits are and subsequently I decided that it would be
inconsiderate of me to abandon you in your time of
need. And I'm quite observant, despite what other's
may think, and it became very obvious that a poor diet
wouldn't cause the extreme case of nausea that
you've been battling over the past week."

No. No. No.

It wasn't possible. Manhands couldn't know, she

couldn't—

"Of course, I wouldn't have figured it out if I wasn't

privy to your night with…" Berry whispered until her
voice trailed off all together and Quinn suddenly felt
cold all over.

Her head was spinning and…she was going to be

sick. Quinn fell to the floor and clenched her eyes
shut, hoping to stop her tears from falling.

Was this what her life had become?

It was one mistake.

Please God; it was one mistake.

---------

Ten

Rachel jumped off the door when she heard

movement from behind it, crossing her fingers in
hopes that Quinn would finally stop hiding. Except a
dull thud followed and the undeniable sound of rubber
skidding across tile. White running shoes became
visible through the gap between the door and the floor
and the tiny brunette's heart clenched in sympathy for
what she knew came next.

She was also wholly unprepared. Not a water bottle or

pack of gum in sight, thanks to Noah Puckerman.
After Rachel had told Noah about the baby, her friend
had taken off and she'd made it to the parking lot just
in time to see him drive away. She could've followed
him—since Rachel knew exactly where he was going
—but she really didn't want to.

He had the tendency to work through things in a way

that had literally given her nightmares—being privy
too just how flexible Santana Lopez actually was, well
it was probably the most horrifying moment of her life
—and more than that she was just extremely angry
with him.
So instead Rachel stalked back into the school, too
distracted by her own anger to remember to stop at
her locker—the location of the mentioned water and
gum—and straight towards the washroom. Quinn had
marched by earlier while she'd been waiting for Noah
in an empty classroom and Rachel felt like it was only
prudent to use the time Noah was off defiling Santana
for something constructive.

She was also a little worried and for good reason it

seemed. Rachel didn't need to ask if Quinn was doing
well, it was abundantly clear the blonde wasn't long
before today. Still something had kept the girl locked
up in a bathroom stall, when Quinn normally would've
been yelling insults at her by now.

It was that departure from the norm that had Rachel

struggling with what to say, even now when Quinn
didn't seem to be sick anymore. Rachel knew it
couldn't be comfortable in there—especially after the
cheerleader had spent the majority of her time
throwing up—but Quinn was showing no signs of
leaving—or speaking—anytime soon.

"Quinn," Rachel sighed, pausing in the hopes that the

blonde would take the time to reply. No such luck
unfortunately. "You have nothing to be embarrassed
about. I'm not going to judge you."

Still no response. It seemed Rachel was going to

have to get a little underhanded—for the blonde's own
good of course.

"Alright, I suppose it is pointless for me to stay any

longer. I had hoped to offer some type of support,
since I'd imagine you've yet to receive very much, but
I see my attempts have been in vain. I also apologize
for not being as dutifully prepared as our last
encounter."

Then Rachel walked to the door, pausing only to

reach for the handle, pulling it open and then shutting
it a little harder than necessary. With a small smile,
Rachel watched as Quinn reacted almost instantly,
tearing open the door, her Cheerio skirt whirling
around her in her haste to get to the sink. Standing
silently, the brunette waited until the girl was done
rinsing her mouth before she spun into action.

"Excellent, you finally came to the conclusion that

hiding was frivolous way to spend your time. I was
just—"

"Berry!" Quinn spun around, looking a little crazy and

Rachel imagined that a murderous glare wasn't
exactly a good thing in regards to her overall life
expectancy. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when the blonde

threw her hands up in the air and shaking her head
being frustrated crazy not well, crazy crazy. She'd
been able to tell because Noah mimed out the
different faces of crazy (female edition)—or so he
liked to call it—back when she was training
extensively to be a contestant on Survivor. A month
later, she realized how detrimental such an endeavor
would be on her voice and scraped the idea
permanently.

"Well the answer is quite simple, Quinn." Rachel

walked further into the room, stopping just short of
being in the blonde's reach and looked up with a small
—hopefully placating—smile. "I can't."

"Well you're going to, RuPaul. I don't want you near

me, got it?" When Rachel just continued looking at
her, Quinn grew more frustrated. "No more water or
Vitamin drinks. No more granola bars and stalking me
in the halls. I don't want your help!"

"Unfortunately, I cannot promise you such a thing.

Maybe before when I thought you were just eating
unhealthy but now it is an impossibility."

Quinn laughed loudly—her eyes were going a bit

manic—and Rachel stiffened slightly when the blonde
stepped a little closer. "Oh you'll do it, Stubbles
because if you don't I'll make your life hell."

Rachel smiled slightly at the threat but didn't say

anything at all until Quinn stepped forward again, her
hazel eyes just about black. "As opposed to what
you've done already? There's nothing you can
possibly do that would make it worse and by the off
chance that you do find something, I can assure you
that it won't matter. I have—"

"Why the hell not?" Quinn yelled, her hands clenching

and unclenching at her sides.

Rachel looked at the blonde momentarily—taking in

how unhinged the usually composed girl was and the
brunette felt a little guilty for driving her there when
Quinn's life was already hard enough—before
remembering why she'd come in there in the first
place.

"Noah's my best friend, Quinn."

She might care for Quinn in someway—feelings born

within her attraction and yearning for the blonde—but
that didn't mean Rachel liked her. Quinn Fabray
treated her like a stray dog on a street corner—like
she was superior to her just because of her status,
her name and her talent for standing statuesque on
top of a human pyramid—and there was no way
Rachel could ever enjoy that. And, it certainly came
nowhere close to Noah. Rachel might be angry with
him for being so careless, caring more about getting
in Quinn's pants than being responsible, but that
didn't mean she wasn't going to just walk away.

"The…it isn't his so just…just go alright," Quinn

murmured, instantly looking away and Rachel tried
her best not to smile. It would only set the blonde off.

"We both know that isn't true, Quinn and I think it

would be beneficial for you two to talk this situation
through. I know such circumstances can't be—"

"No, Man Hands," Quinn growled, low enough to be

on the bad side of dangerous and Rachel was
wondering where the Quinn that caused residual
smiles went off to so quickly. "Just keep your giant
nose out of my business, alright?"

Rachel tried her best to calculate the risks involved in

continuing to push but being under Quinn's intense
(and angry) scrutiny—a stare down if you will—was
making it extremely hard to concentrate. Rachel was
pretty sure it was foolish to stick to her convictions—
at least while still in front of Quinn—but somewhere
along the way that memo was lost in translation.

"One hour," she said instead, straightening up to her

full height—that admittedly wasn't very intimidating at
all—and returning the gesture of staring back. "We
can hold the meeting at my house, since I suspect
you'd rather not have Mrs. Puckerman or your parents
finding out. I think it would—"

"No, that wouldn't be practical. I'd have to burn my

uniform in a loser freak cleanse if I ever set foot in
your house and you're just not worth the effort."
The blonde rolled her eyes, scoffing as they rolled
and Rachel just managed to get out of the way as the
cheerleader walked directly into her shoulder. The tiny
brunette turned to watch her go with a small shake of
her head—Quinn certainly wasn't any less volatile
with baby. The blonde stormed out in true Quinn
Fabray fashion—all intimidating glares with an icy
posture—and when the door slammed shut, Rachel
sighed.

It seemed that she'd just have to get more proactive.

Some envelope pushing was clearly in order, maybe
a box too. Rachel had no doubt that she'd come out
victorious because this Quinn Fabray—as opposed to
the…well not pregnant kind—wanted help.

It was just a matter of pushing her until she admitted

it.

--------

Eleven

Santana Lopez was his go-to girl for two things: free
booze and hot sex, sometimes both if he was lucky.
And he was today because Santana's daddy left town
for a doctor conference without saying goodbye and
Puck had no problem with assisting in revenge, if
fucking Santana in her daddy's bed was all he had to
do.

But, more than that, his life just felt like it was spinning
out of control. Things were so messed up—he had
fucked up—and just for a little while he hoped he
could maybe find something better; hoped he could
just forget everything that he knew because Rachel
wasn't lying. He knew when she was lying—her eyes
had been big, brown and terrified—and she wasn't
lying.

Quinn was…he'd really…it just…

Growling, he flipped Santana over, pinning her to the

bed, sucking roughly on the skin of her neck. She
moaned like an amateur porn star and he pulled on
her blouse until buttons bounced off walls. Santana
always smelt like ripe apples in autumn and did this
amazing thing with her hips that put stars in his eyes.
And even though she was a raving bitch all the damn
time, when Puck had her like this she was so eager to
please him.

Girls with daddy issues; God how he loved them,

except Quinn was like that too.

Her urging him to go faster flashed through his mind,

not because she wanted to feel more but because her
father was going to be home soon. Quinn was pulling
him closer and pleading in his ear and that was when
Puck forgot to find his wallet.

"More," Santana breathed, running her nails down his

back hard enough to break skin, the pain ultimately
bringing him back.

Puck palmed her boobs, squeezing and pulling

relentlessly. Anger was clearly leading his actions—
because how could he forget?—but the good thing
about girls like this was that they didn't care. It had
something to do with projecting their need for
approval—it was the only thing he retained from
Rachel's hundred-slide Powerpoint (Standing in the
Shadows of One's Own Sunshine: A Presentation of
Self-Esteem by Rachel Berry) before he fell asleep
with his eyes open—so Santana dragging him
upstairs and pushing him on the bed was totally not
his fault. Heck, Puck even expected some sort of
bitchy remark about his cash flow—or lack there of—
when she opened the door. But, Santana just looked
at him, pulled him in seconds later and had him
sprawled out on her parent's slippery sheets not long
after that.

She was down to her underwear by now—currently

pulling down his own—and Puck let her take control
for a while. He just needed to stop thinking and her
sliding down his body definitely did that. Seconds
passed until heat surrounded him in the most
delicious of ways, and Puck couldn't help but groan
when he watched her head start to move up and
down. His fingers were covered in brown locks and
every single swipe of her tongue was getting him hot.

He forced her to take him further inside and when she

moaned, he bit his lip to make sure he didn't call out
something embarrassing. A couple minutes later,
Puck literally exploded—there was a blinding light
behind his eyes, electric shocks zapped him
everywhere and his hold on reality slipped away.

That moment he'd been looking for—when time

slowed down, his breath got short and everything that
was wrong in his life suddenly felt so right—it had
arrived. Unfortunately, it left way too early and Puck
really should've known that he wasn't going to get one
night all alone—one night that was his—away from all
the mistakes he ran from at school.

His phone was ringing and Santana looked up at him

warning him not to answer it with a pointed glare. But,
he ignored her because it might be important—
somebody could be hurt or it could be that guy that
gave away houses on that radio show.

Groaning, Puck leaned closer to her and she handed

him his jeans with an icy glare. Maybe the post-cum
haze made it hard to be an asshole because he
pulled her to him for a long sloppy kiss while his
phone continued to ring between them.
"Don't worry, Babe. I'm not going anywhere," she
mumbled against her lips and she seemed satisfied
enough to not do anything but roll her eyes.

He wasn't stupid; Santana was worth keeping happy.

Besides being bitchy, angry and really mean, Santana
really was his best option for a good time. She was
talented too. When she moved behind him to make
herself comfortable against the pillows near the
headboard, Puck flipped his phone open.

"What, Berry?" he sighed, while adjusting his boxers

so they were fully covering him once again.

She couldn't see him but the fact that he was safely
covered made the whole situation less awkward. It
was ridiculous after what he just did that he felt self-
conscious, but it was true.

"I'll be arriving at Santana's in five minutes time.

Please be ready to leave or I'll have to resort to
drastic measures, which I have no doubt you won't
appreciate very much."

Puck debated silently for all of two seconds before

groaning. "Fine."

He then hung up the phone before she could continue

to ramble and tossed it on the bed beside him. Puck
was just pulling on his jeans when he heard
movement from behind him. "Running off to RuPaul
again? What is she you're manly and freakishly short
keeper?"

Puck grabbed for his shirt at the end of the bed before
turning to look at her. Eyes blown, lipstick smudged,
hair wild, nipples hard—God what he gave up for
Rachel.

"Listen, Babe. Your parents won't be home until next

week so I'll come back to sex you up later, kay?"

She rolled her eyes and tossed his jacket at him with
a disgruntled huff. "Don't worry about it, Puck. I'll find
somebody else who doesn't have a pet troll latching
onto them like a STD."

"Whatever, Babe. You'll call," he laughed, smirking

smugly as he slipped on his shoes. "You want this
more than I need you."

And she would call because Puck was just cruel

enough to leave her wanting more. His motto when
dealing with Santana: be a bastard. It worked every
time.

Then he left her in her parent's room, horny and all

alone—damn it Rachel. Luckily, Santana would
probably just call Brittany anyway. The sexy—and oh
so flexible—blonde cheerleader was always the girl's
second choice.
Rachel was waiting in the driveway, leaning against
his truck. He wondered how she's got there but then
Rachel had changed from the skirt she'd worn at
school, now in Converse and jeans, so she'd
obviously been home first. It was in walking distance
of Santana's.

They didn't say anything while they both got into his
truck. He didn't ask where she wanted to go and
Rachel didn't argue when the truck started to move
throughout the neighbourhood. Rachel didn't even
protest when they went through a fast-food drive-thru
because sex always made him hungry. It wasn't until
he pulled into the parking lot of the neighbourhood
park—the sun was just setting and it was empty—that
the tiny brunette decided to speak.

"You got me a milkshake, right?" she asked while

reaching over to grasp one of the two cups he'd put in
his cup holders.

Puck laughed, nodding slightly in response.

"Cheating, huh?"

Rachel glanced down at the cup in her hands with a

small frown before shaking her head. "I think today is
as good a day as any to indulge myself. You are well
aware that ice cream makes me happy."

"I thought that was water?"

Rachel took a sip from her straw, closing her eyes
briefly with a small groan. When she opened them,
Rachel quickly looked away from Puck's attempts at
shoving half a hamburger into his mouth. "No, water is
an attempt to swindle myself into thinking I'm thirsty
instead of sad."

"That was totally hot, Babe. Please do it again," he

pleaded with starry eyes and ketchup on his chin,
completely ignoring what she'd said.

Rachel just rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that isn't a
good idea. To use an analogy you are most familiar
with: you're a sex shark and my calling interrupted
you mid-swim, which I find highly amusing but I'm
sure your body doesn't concur with my assessment."

"I'm always ready for quality time with a hot fellow

Jew," he winked and the brunette sighed, looking
down at her drink.

"I can't really find humour in that, Noah. Not with

circumstances as they are." Rachel moved her straw
around before letting go of it and looking up. "Noah,
you can't charm your way out of this and avoiding it is
just as futile of a decision."

Frowning, Puck put the rest of his burger down on the

dash, looking straight ahead at one of the swings
swaying in the wind. His hands migrated down to the
steering wheel, squeezing the battered rubber until
his knuckles were white.

"I know, I just…I wasn't expecting it, okay? She didn't

even tell me and I still don't get how you even found
out. She doesn't even want my help anyway."

He didn't even get a chance to be different. His father

had gotten his mother pregnant at a party in high
school and then ran out after he was born—telling his
mom he needed to work—driving his damn 18-
wheeler around America. He sent money, came back
for a couple weeks at a time and then Hannah was
born. He never came back after that. Puck's whole life
he'd promised himself he wouldn't be anything like
that man and now...he'd gotten a girl pregnant and he
wasn't allowed to help.

"She does, Noah," Rachel assured, reaching out to

put a hand on his arm, leaving it there until she had
his attention once again. "Quinn's just too afraid to
ask for it. Such a circumstance is much more
bearable with evasion rather than confrontation and
seeking help directly defies that course of action."

Puck sighed, running her words back in his mind

before shaking his head. "Normal people speak, Berry
but I got the gist of it. If she's too scared to ask for my
help than I'll go to her. I don't care what it takes, I'm
not my dad and my kid's gonna know that."

"No, if you do that, she'll never seek out help." Her

eyes were wide with worry, silently warning him
against following through with his own idea and when
he just continued looking at her, Rachel once again
rushed to change his mind. "It is most imperative that
Quinn come to us or she'll never agree."

"Or we can make her agree." Rachel glared at him

and he sighed. "Fine, what do I do?"

"I've set up a meeting for next week Friday. Quinn will

be present and I expect you to be as well, hopefully
with something intuitive to say on the subject."

Puck was skeptical but she seemed so sure. She was

greedily sipping from her cup of sin with a satisfied
gleam in her eyes. He just couldn't help but want to
know. "How do you know she'll show?"

The straw fell from Rachel's lips and she tilted her
head to the side in deliberation, making him uneasy
with constant eye contact. Then suddenly she had a
giant smile on her face and he could only imagine the
crazy things that she was thinking.

"Because I am confident that in time Quinn will see

the merit in accepting assistance from those who
want to offer it," she relayed with an excited clap of
her hands, clearly something she picked up from
being around Spanish.

So that was definitely not right...maybe. Puck did

remember him talking about Spanish a lot, so maybe
he taught Spanish—Puck hadn't really stayed awake
in his class long enough to be sure—but then why did
he look really interested when the gay kid was talking
about Spanish breakfast foods last week?

"Berry," said girl turned to look at him, straw now back

in her mouth, "the teacher guy in Glee club, do you
think he likes Tostadas?"

---------

Twelve

Quinn Fabray was a monochromatically schemed

beauty queen. Naturally gorgeous and dressed in her
cheer uniform sometimes more than fifteen hours a
day, the head cheerleader lived, breathed and looked
death in the eye everyday in McKinley white, black
and red.

By death, she meant her clinically insane

cheerleading coach that may or may not have posed
for Penthouse before moving to Lima, Ohio with a
wide variety of tracksuits in hand. Sue Sylvester was
the equivalent to Lizzie Borden having an illegitimate
love child and offering it to Benito Mussolini to raise.
For her, it was all about power and winning—at the
end of the day there was nothing Sue wouldn't do for
a trophy.
And that included calling practices at five in the
morning on a Monday, still fully expecting the
precision and expertise of a team of world-class
gymnasts. That coupled with Sue's fondness for
believing that blame and torture were of the same
meaning was the reason Quinn wasn't in Math.

Being pregnant didn't help either.

Morning sickness was a bitch at the best of times but

not being able to feel her legs made it that much more
torturous. When the squad didn't perform—some
even daring to show up to practice late—it was on
Quinn. Sue ruled with an iron fist, drawing inspiration
from her—alleged—days fighting in Vietnam. Her girls
were a single entity—they dressed the same, acted
the same, thought the same—when somebody
screwed up, Sue Sylvester cut off the head and let the
pain trickle down the ranks.

Quinn was Head Cheerio—as Sue liked to call them

because she thought the word 'cheerleader' was
trying too hard—and had been punished with laps
long after the rest of the squad were gone. The
blonde had already been seeing multiples and was
pretty much seconds away from collapsing on top of
the finish line, when the track-suited iron maiden
herself appeared megaphone and scathing remark in
hand.
Quinn had never been so glad to see three Sue
Sylvester's in all her life and she'd been standing
shakily in the showers ever since, concentrating in on
her desperation to not fall down.

The water from the shower cascaded down her lithe

body, caressing her pale skin before pelting the
startlingly white tile underneath her feet. She closed
her eyes, placing her hands on the cool tile and
leaning her body forwards so her arms took the brunt
of her weight. The shift in stance aimed the spray
against her forehead, the warm liquid now running
down her face in streams leaving her skin tinted red in
its wake.

Quinn didn't think she could take anymore. Practice

was getting harder, sleep was pretty much non-
existent and Berry was still tailing her like a
disgruntled Chihuahua yapping at her heels.

It followed her—to her locker, to classes, in the lunch

line, to Cheerio practice, to the parking lot, sometimes
home if Man Hands wasn't wasting away money on
lessons for something dramatically inclined—always
rambling on about the benefits of this meeting on
Friday it had made up in its head.

Because there was no way Quinn would ever step

into a house lived in by a freak show like Berry. Man
Hands was five pounds of crazy in a ten-pound bag
and about as tall as said bag resting on a footstool.
She pranced around being annoyingly ostentatious
and ear splittingly loud, boasting about being destined
for Broadway. Quinn wanted to punch her in the face
—aiming directly for the nose—almost every time
Berry blipped her radar.

There was absolutely no way she's ever entertain the

thought, except for maybe begrudgingly—very
begrudgingly—conceding that Stubbles' dedication
was somewhat admirable.

Shaking her head, Quinn reached out to turn the

water off, it having long gone cold during her musings
of how much her life sucked. Lavender wafted
through the air, body spray left over earlier from a
Cheerio no doubt, its smell becoming more
pronounced by the steam drifting all around her.
Wrapped in a towel, Quinn padded out of the shower
—stealthily avoiding any reflective surfaces—and
stopping at her locker, quick to began going through
the motions.

She donned her uniform like battle armor—feeling the

surge of confidence the imported polyester instantly
jolted her with—and brushed her wavy blonde curls
back in a meticulous ponytail, not a hair out of place.

Her patented ice queen scowl instantly found its spot

on her face and she opened the locker room door just
as the bell rang to end the period. Strutting down the
hall—one hand firmly on her hip, cool mask of
indifference tacked firmly in place—people cleared a
path instantly, leaving her free to walk as they tracked
her every move, all except one person.

Berry.

She was at the end of the hall, staring at her with

unconcealed determination. The irony of an epic
standoff—the kind with tumbleweed blowing in the
wind—was not lost on her. It was Thursday and Man
Hands had one day left to do the impossible. When
that didn't happen—reasons why were sited above—
the gender confused elf would obviously realize that
she wasn't going to give in, thus dropping this insane
quest where it stands. With that in mind, Quinn looked
away, heading to her locker like complementary
matched argyle had not just scorched her retinas.

Treasure Trail was still zeroing in on her position

anyway. She could hear her stomping down the hall
because the loser even stomped to a tune. Quinn
opened her locker and started pulling out her books,
mentally going through her catalogue of Berry-
appropriate insults to prepare for the inevitable arrival.

Those hideous—yet meticulously polished—Mary

Janes stopped on the other side of her locker door,
Quinn could see them gleaming against the overly
dirty floor. Sighing, the blonde slammed the metal
door shut, looking down at Berry with a roll of her
eyes.
"Man Hands, I see you hit the Salvation Army last
night to further uglify your wardrobe."

Quinn was actually quite proud of that one. It was

insulting and she'd successfully incorporated a word
she felt should be included in the dictionary. If one
could beautify, certainly one could ugify—Berry being
the prime example of such things.

Unfortunately, Stubbles didn't look affected by the

barb at all. In fact it almost seemed to empower the
midget because the brunette had straightened up,
narrowed her eyes and looked right at her. "Quinn, I'd
appreciate if for once you didn't waste valuable time
with your petty insults that really have no relevance to
the situation at all. I think—"

"I know," Quinn interrupted, ignoring Berry's

disgruntled glare that she always gave when cut off,
"except every time I'm next to you, I get a fierce desire
to be alone so I kind of hoped you'd take the hint and
leave if I insulted you enough."

Rachel sighed. "You know I can't do that because as

you know, Friday is fast approaching and I'm again
wondering if I can mark down your RSVP for the
event."

Berry was looking up at her with an inquisitive gaze

and Quinn wondered if she thought that would
actually work. Apparently, she did.

"And once again I'm going to have to say in hell,

Stubbles," she relayed before walking directly into
Berry's shoulder, spinning the girl around with a sharp
gasp.

"Alright, Quinn," Berry called after her and Quinn

forced herself not to stop to feed her curiosity, "I didn't
want to advance onto plan orange but unfortunately
drastic times call for drastic measures."

Now Quinn did stop. Flashes of the midget standing

on her doorstep—with What to Expect When You're
Expecting in one hand and a congratulations balloon
decorated in baby bottles in the other—whirled
through her mind. She clenched her jaw and stocked
back to the harmonious torn in her side.

"Stay out of my business, Berry," she growled, jabbing

her finger into the girl's shoulder with every word. "I'm
warning you."

Man Hands looked fearful for half a second before

she once again straightened up in another indignant
pose.

"And I'm warning you," the midget exclaimed rather

spiritedly, "I'm not above doing exactly what I have no
doubt you're thinking because that…" Berry trailed off,
taking a breath until her voice came out in a whisper,
"child is Noah's too and he deserves a chance to be
there for it."

"That's my decision and I'd rather not be associated

with a Lima Loser for nine months. I'll take my
chances with what I have now."

"So you've going to tell Finn then?" Berry inquired

while crossing her arms in a pose that clearly
challenged her to agree.

Unfortunately, Quinn could not and that realization

was coupled with noticing where she was: in the halls
of McKinley High, surrounded by her peers.

"Shut it, Man Hands," she growled while subtly

looking around to see if anybody heard.

People in the hall didn't seem to have heard but they

were looking at them curiously, since it wasn't
everyday Quinn Fabray talked to Rachel Berry for
longer than a customary passing insult. Quinn quickly
grabbed the collar of the brunette's hideous sweater
and pushed her into the empty Astronomy room a
couple feet from her locker.

Berry stumbled momentarily—Quinn was visibly

disappointed when the Smurf didn't fall flat on her
ginormous nose—and then the fun-sized annoyance
was back looking annoyingly confident.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, what do you plan on
telling him? Because in a couple months that uniform
isn't going to fit and people are going to figure it out.
Admittedly, Finn isn't the most brightest soul but his
mind isn't that ill-fated."

Quinn looked down at her uniform and the confidence

it had once gave her started to fade away until the
artificial fabric felt like it was squeezing the air right
out of her lungs. The blond glanced back up
immediately and Berry's eyes caught her own. They
looked so warm—like gooey chocolate chip cookies—
giving off the illusion that if Quinn just gave in
everything would be okay. But, Quinn knew better
than that. She'd learned a long time ago that the world
didn't work that way, no matter how much it looked
like it did.

"I can take care of myself, Berry," she sighed, turning

her eyes to look at the large model of Jupiter hanging
right behind the brunette's head.

"I'm aware of that, Quinn but everybody needs help

sometimes." Quinn didn't look back at the brunette
because Jupiter was way more interesting and Berry's
eyes were all lies. "It's just an hour and after that, if
you still do not want Noah's or my assistance, I'll
leave you to your own devices. Of course, if you still
refuse such a meeting, I'll be forced to prolong my
attempts to convince you of the merits of such an
endeavor. The cycle will continue for as long as you
allow it to Quinn."

Man Hands stopped talking after that and Quinn

gritted her teeth at being backed into a corner
because the blonde needed something scraped off
her more than filled plate. She'd been tired, terrified
and followed every second since that pregnancy test
and unfortunately only one of those—the completely
annoying and delusional one—was able to give.

"One hour," she sighed while unconsciously clenching

her fists, "and after that I'll leave and you'll go back
cleaning up the chocolate factory, got it?"

The answering smile made her wince because

making Berry happy felt so wrong. Quinn looked back
at Jupiter to save her eyes from the beaming beckon
of happiness currently standing in front of her.

"Yes, of course, Quinn," Rachel relayed with an

affirmative nod. Of course, Berry would confirm
something she'd said herself, "though I must say that
the insinuation that I am an Oompa Loompa is most
unwelcome."

Quinn just rolled her eyes and took this opportunity to

make her escape, throwing an absent comment—
whatever, Berry—over her shoulder just before she hit
the hall.

One hour.
Then her miniature stalker would be gone for good.

---------

Thirteen

For all Rachel's bravado at convincing Quinn to show

up to her home—at a predetermined time that had
been previously screened to make sure it was
compatible with all of their schedules—she hadn't
actually remembered to plan a suitable course of
action for when the blonde cheerleader actually
agreed.

Her one-track mind never took into account the scene

before her: Quinn Fabray standing outside her front
door in her Cheerio uniform and a scowl. Rachel's
heart beat a little quicker in response to the very short
skirt swaying in the breeze.

"Man Hands, stop staring at me like Patches the

creepy homeless guy and move out of the way so I
can get in."

Rachel jumped in surprise before quickly doing as

Quinn asked—ordered—allowing the cheerleader to
stomp by her. The tiny brunette then promptly
followed with a disgruntled huff.
"I assure you I was not staring at you like that fiend of
man that once heinously chased me a block and a
half in an attempt to steal the gingerbread house I had
baked for the kids at Lima General during the
Holidays last season. I would never—"

"Berry, I don't mind that you're talking so long as you

don't mind that I'm not listening and since I know you
do, just shut up."

Rachel did—reluctantly—and with a small frown she

lead the tempestuous blonde toward the living room.
For the first time, her parent's workaholic tendencies
had come in handy. Rachel wanted Quinn nowhere
near her room; it being one of the few places that she
felt completely safe and Rachel refused to give Quinn
the opportunity to screw that up.

Noah was waiting for them, staring at the bowl of

pretzels on the coffee table Rachel forbid him to touch
until Quinn had arrived. She'd decided that hors
d'oeuvres probably wasn't a good idea with an angry
—recently blackmailed—Quinn Fabray in attendance.
It had crossed the singer's mind more than once—
since their extremely nerve-racking meeting in the
Astronomy room—that Quinn might have the skills to
maim with a toothpick if provoked.

Rachel watched his head whip around to stare at

them, his eyes tracking Quinn as she begrudgingly
sat on the sofa across from him. When he turned to
reach out for the pretzels—that he was now
technically allowed to have—Rachel cleared her
throat and whirled her hands in the air.

"Well, my presence is needed no longer. I'll be in the

other room crafting a new draft of my weekly letter to
the Ohio Show Choir Committee urging them to see
reason in introducing a mandatory solo act into
competition. I suggest you use this time—"

"Oh no you don't, Treasure Trail," Quinn exclaimed,

bouncing off the couch, her eyes wild and her fists
clenched. "You're staying. I need a witness to
whatever this moron has to say."

Rachel paused, looking at Quinn momentarily before

nodding and sinking into the matching armchair
across from Noah's. She kind of hated that she
couldn't just walk away, not after Quinn—in her own
way—practically pleaded with her to stay. Rachel
watched as the blonde sat back down, her body
unconsciously turned away from Noah, almost like a
preemptive strike of self-defense.

Rachel frowned; clearly she didn't have the whole

picture. There was time for that later though because
Quinn was staring intently at the brass sundial clock
that had been uncovered on one of her fathers'
weekend antiquing trips last year and placed above
the fireplace. The girl was really taking the hour
timeline to heart and Rachel never should've
expected any less.

"I see neither of you are very talkative at the moment,

so with Quinn counting down our time by the second,"
the blonde turned to look at her with a glare and a
somewhat charming dusty rose tint to her cheeks, "I
suggest you start us off, Noah."

The boy's head whipped up from where he was piling

pretzels into his hand. Rachel winced when his hand
tipped and his chosen pretzels fell back into the bowl,
essentially contaminating them all. The icky germs of
Noah's—yucky boy—hygiene inhumanly tainted her
favourite snack for all—mainly her—to enjoy.

Rachel was scowling when Noah started his speech.

"That kid's half mine and I'm helping with it."

The tiny brunette sunk her teeth deeply into her lip in
an effort to not interrupt. 'Speech' had definitely been
generous. Obviously when she asked him earlier if he
was ready, his—I got it covered—reply meant he was
prepared up to his standards but not hers and
definitely not Quinn's. Rachel knew she should've
pressed for more but Noah seemed so serious about
this and…

"That's all you have to say?" Quinn yelled, her eyes

flashing and Rachel really shouldn't have so easily
agreed to stay. This was just really really awkward
and the half written letter in her fathers' study was
calling her name louder every minute.

Noah strengthened up and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Babe, it takes two to tango and it's you're fault as—"

Rachel's eyes widened at Quinn's impressive show of

agility, shooting off the couch and close enough to
slap Noah in seconds. Holy Barbra, this really was not
going as well as she had—forgot to—plan.

"Whatever, Puck. I'm done with this. Don't come

anywhere near me, got it?"

The cheerleader turned to leave—not even sparing

Rachel a glance—and the tiny brunette decided to put
her previously unfounded skills as a mediator to the
test. Of course, this particular circumstance read
more like a hostage situation than a mediated dispute
but she wasn't about to let all her hard work go to
waste.

"Quinn," she called, chasing after the blonde and

finally stopping her in the foyer near the door with a
brave hand to the other girl's arm, "I implore you to
stay a little longer. I know Noah…well he's left little to
be desired at the moment but I assure you it will be
worth it."

Rachel waited painstakingly for the pregnant girl's

decision. The fact that Quinn was faced away from
her only added to her anxiety, since it was impossible
to prepare for what she was unable to see.

"No thanks, Stubbles," Quinn stated coolly and

Rachel eyes widened, visibly panicking as she
watched the blonde walk closer to the door.

"Wait," Rachel's brain raced for something to say

when Quinn failed to stop after her hasty and
borderline desperate cry, "I…I think that you need to
be here because we're all the help you know you're
going to receive. You can continue to ignore the
circumstances as they are and convince everyone
with lies that nothing has changed but eventually the
truth will come out and you'll be worse off than you
are now." Quinn had stopped but not turned around
and Rachel desperately sought after something else
to say. "And we…we agreed to an hour and if you
leave now, I'll be forced to renege on my side of our
agreement."

Rachel had time for a deep breath—after her rather

long speech—before Quinn whirled around and
marched by her once again. Sighing in relief, the
brunette rolled her eyes and followed after her. Noah
stood up when they entered—he'd obviously realized
his mistake—and opened his mouth to say something
when Quinn beat him to it.

"I don't care what you want. I don't care about your
daddy issues or anything you have to say." Noah was
staring at Quinn with wide eyes and Rachel shook her
head when their brownish colour went dark. It was
times like these that Rachel wondered why she was
even friends with a guy like Noah Puckerman. "But, if
you want to help you need to prove to me that you
can, since the last time I trusted you got me saddled
with a demon spawn for nine months."

Noah was eagerly nodding. "Fine, what do I got to do,

Babe?"

"Don't call me that," Quinn growled, her eyes

narrowing and Noah put his hands up to placate, "and
you can start with paying for the doctors appointment
I have on Monday."

"But that only gives me the weekend," Noah yelled,

gritting his teeth.

It was a next to impossible task and Quinn was

intentionally making being there for his child
contingent on it. The blonde shrugged, uncaringly and
if Rachel wasn't Noah's friend—and ultimately just as
affected by this—she'd be undoubtingly impressed
with Quinn's devious ploy of revenge. There weren't
many people that could bring a man to his knees with
such relative ease and the trait made Quinn extremely
appealing, especially when Rachel knew Noah
deserved it. Just like being attracted to Quinn didn't
necessarily mean she liked her, being friends with
Noah didn't necessarily mean she was opposed to
making him a little miserable after what he did.

"Well, the bill can't come to my house so you better

think of something," Quinn stated bluntly, the
ultimatum of 'take it or leave it' abundantly clear...at
least to her

Noah looked like he was teetering on an explosion:

fists clenched, as if ready for a fight and eyes dark but
definitely not from arousal anymore. When he opened
his mouth to comment, Rachel quickly interrupted,
"Fine, Noah will do it, right Noah?"

She silently pleaded with him to agree and Rachel's

sigh was barely audible as she watched as Noah
breathed deeply and forced out, "Yeah sure."

Quinn just nodded, a smug smirk playing at the

corners of her lips before she turned to look at
Rachel. "Now leave me alone, Stubbles."

Neither watched her leave and when the door

slammed, both fell back onto the couch, a whoosh of
air leaving their lungs.

"She just…" Noah whined, eyes still wide with

amazement.

Rachel shifted so her head fell on his shoulder and

she ruefully patted his hand. "Yep."
"And we got…"

"You, Noah. She railroaded you. I'm merely a

bystander impaled with your consequences. Innocent
bystander is what I'd be called, I believe."

"You're still mad, I get it," he sighed, anxiously

running a hand over his barely-there hair. "Thanks for
helping me anyway."

Rachel raised her head from his shoulder; her eyes

swirling and deadly serious with a small smile
contradicting her face. "When I consolidated all my
research on being a potential best friend, the one
thing that was abundantly clear was that friends stick
by friends through thick or thin. I've just had the
unfortunate luck of being friends with a person who
tends to screw up royally."

Noah's head hit the back of the couch and she felt his
breath hitch slightly at her accusation. Rachel Berry
never pulled punches, subtlety was definitely not in
her wheelhouse and she was angry with him,
especially when he almost just chased Quinn away
after everything she'd done to get her to show up.

"I'm sorry, Rach. I didn't—"

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Rachel

exclaimed before pushing herself up off the couch.
"I'm sure our drive will give us ample time to talk
about this further."

Noah's eyes widened and his back snapped ramrod

straight. "Drive? Columbus? We're going there?"

"Noah, we don't have time for your futile complaints

on the subject," she admonished, already looking
around for the phone when she realized her daddy
once again forgot to put it back on the pod. "We both
need to pack and with only a weekend this is—"

"...our only option," he finished, much to Rachel's

annoyance.

She hated being interrupted but to her credit, the tiny

brunette just nodded. "I'll make the necessary calls
and arrangements while you go home to pack. Please
make every attempt to bring more than socks,
batteries and condoms this time around."

He nodded but unfortunately Rachel didn't hold high

hopes that Noah would listen. They wouldn't be in this
mess if he did.

So here is the reason I haven't updated my other

story. When I was watching Glee I couldn't help but
notice how completely bored Quinn looked in both
episodes, and I tend to get slightly irritated by the way
Finn treats Rachel sometimes. Anyone else think that
the first words out of Finn's mouth should have been
"You are not a loser."
Anyway...it's short and the idea is still forming, but let
me know what you think and if I should continue it...

Spoilers for Season two, episode one: Audition

because it pretty much takes place during the
episode. Don't own Glee or any Glee characters

Indescribably Beautiful

Quinn Fabray found it curious that she was sitting in

the choir room at 3:00 listening to Mr. Schue talk
about new members. She wondered if it was force of
habit that had made her trace the familiar path to the
choir room at the end of the day. Or maybe it was the
fact that she had spent her entire summer alone in
her house caged with her mother. Maybe she was
simply craving contact with the outside world.
Mercedes had spent all summer visiting family, Brit
and Santana were at Coach Sylvester's cheerleading
camp and after last year that was about the extent of
her friend base. If she could even call them friends.

Quinn listened and tried not to roll her eyes as she

listened to the other members talk about being a
family and, even though she wanted to, couldn't expel
the nessecary energy it would take to snicker when
Brittany mumbled 'Gross' when Finn stood up next to
Rachel. Quinn let the chatter die and followed that
thought as it ran through her head.
It wasn't that she thought Rachel was gross. Actually
the summer had been kind to her, she was a little
tanner, a little thinner, and a little (and Quinn stressed
the little part here) better dressed. It was just the
thought of the two of them together that for whatever
reason made her want to gag. Quinn toyed with the
cross around her neck as she admired Rachel and
tried not to dwell on the fact that she was admiring
Rachel. Whatever, she shook her head and turned
back toward the rest of her classmates trying to feign
interest in what was going on in front of her.

Quinn knew that she wore her custom look of

superiority as she stood in front of Sue Sylvester, but
underneath her stomach was flipping and she could
feel a lump in her throat as she struggled to keep her
voice even in front of the coach. She had spent all
summer getting back into shape and it was all for this
moment, it just so happened that a stroke of luck had
fallen into her lap when she had heard the news of
Coach Sylvester's budget. She gave a small smirk as
she turned with her hand on her hip and walked out of
the gym. She had her foot back in the door.

Quinn felt the familiar material slide over her body, but
couldn't manage a smile as she looked in the mirror
and tightened her ponytail. She was curious as to
what she was even doing here. She really had no
desire to go back to being the Quinn Fabray that she
had been before the baby. She took a deep breath
and let a superior smile settle on her lips before
placing her hand on her hip and walking out of the
locker room. She had only gotten a few feet when she
heard Santana behind her. And suddenly she felt
Santana's fist connecting with her face and she
couldn't control herself anymore. When Mr. Schue
finally let go of her with an incredulous look she
returned it with an irritated look of her own and
stormed off toward the bathroom.

Quinn felt annoyance and a little bit of sympathy for

Rachel Berry when everyone told her to shut up. It
was the same annoyance that she had begun to feel
last year when even though everyone had started to
tolerate each other, they still somehow found ways to
pick on the younger girl. She listened and watched as
Sunshine sang a song and rolled her eyes as she
witnessed everyone cheering as the song came to a
finish.

Quinn couldn't deny that the new girl could sing, but
she still secretly thought that Rachel was better. She
couldn't really put her finger on what was better about
it, but Sunshine had failed to provoke a response in
Quinn the same way that Rachel did. For the
thousandth time that day Quinn wondered what the
hell she was doing. She remained off to herself as
she watched everyone welcome Sunshine to Glee
and tried not to focus on the apprehensive look that
was just under Rachel's smile.
She felt an overwhelming urge to touch the girl, to
offer her some sort of comfort, and a fresh bout of
annoyance at Finn for joining in the welcoming. He
was her boyfriend he should be comforting his
girlfriend. She watched Rachel wander away to the
back of the auditorium and gave Finn a dirty look that
he didn't notice. She shouldn't be surprised though
since he hadn't even realized that his girlfriend had
left. Whatever, she thought as she followed Rachel
out of the auditorium.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Man Hands,

You're still our star." Quinn managed a flat tone as
she walked by the diva and headed toward her car.
She didn't look back to see Rachel's face, but for
whatever reason she hoped that the girl was
smiling…

Quinn had been wondering all week why she kept

coming to Glee club. It wasn't like she was a loser
anymore. She was head cheerleader again, she didn't
belong here with them. The only trouble was that
when she went to Cheerios practice all week she
didn't belong there either. She sat off by herself most
of the time and the truth was she wasn't sure where
she belonged. All she knew for sure was that she was
lonely. She had never been so alone in her entire life
and at least if she went to Cheerios practice and sat
in Glee club then she wasn't lonely all by herself. And
at times both activities amused her.
She fought her eye roll for the thousandth time as she
listened to the band of freaks go back and forth with
Finn about wanting to punish Rachel about what
happened with Sunshine. Quinn sat back with the
same bored expression that she had been wearing all
week and watched Finn's fairly pathetic attempt to
defend the girl he supposedly loved. All Quinn kept
hearing was the way he started every sentence.
"Guys, I know that Rachel's annoying and controlling,
but.." Which was only slightly worse than, "Yeah, I
know she's a little overbearing, but…" Quinn couldn't
hear anything after the way he defended Rachel and
she finally spoke up when someone mentioned that
they should all slushie her to teach her a lesson. At
those words Quinn saw red.

"Are you guys even listening to yourselves? Seriously

if any of you so much as cross Rachel's path with an
empty cup in your hands I will personally make sure
that the football team has an endless supply of corn
syrup to torture you all with. All she did was protect
what's hers, she might have been a little misguided,
but let's move on shall we. So, Vocal Adrenaline gets
Sunshine, we've got Rachel. They both have talent,
the only difference is that Rachel knows what to do
with it." Everyone stood and stared at her and this
enraged Quinn even more She shrugged her
shoulders. "Whatever, do what you want."

Quinn came out of the bathroom and caught sight of

Rachel and Finn talking in the hallway. Her stomach
clenched at the hurt look that crossed Rachel's pretty
features as she watched the couple interact. Her
fingers itched suddenly and her arm raised
unconsciously to brush Rachel's hair behind her ear.
She swallowed her shock at herself and noticed that
they were no longer arguing.

Quinn's face darkened in what she knew was jealousy

as the football player leaned down and kissed his
girlfriend and didn't have time to panic about the
jealousy before Rachel turned around. She looked
wonderfully vulnerable as she turned from Finn and
made her way to the auditorium. Quinn had meant to
walk to her car and skip the rest of glee, but her legs
carried her into the auditorium to where Rachel was
standing alone on the stage.

She watched for a moment as the girl took a deep

breath and turned to leave when nothing came out of
Rachel's mouth. Just as she had turned toward the
door she heard the opening notes of Rachel's song
and was unable to stop herself from facing the little
diva. Quinn sunk into a chair, Rachel and her voice
took up the entire auditorium and Quinn felt her heart
beat faster in her chest as she closed her eyes and let
Rachel's voice echo through her body. Quinn opened
her eyes as Rachel's song came to an end and was
hit with one more startling realization: Rachel Berry
was indescribably beautiful.

---------
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You for reading,
reviewing and commenting, also for the story alerts
and such, it is greatly appreciated.
So here's the second part, still flying by the seat of my
pants with this fic, but hope you enjoy...
Hope to get another chapter of my other fic up soon,
but this one is stuck in my head for now...as always
thank you for taking a look and let me know if I should
keep it going :)
PS I haven't actually edited it yet so sorry for any
typos or things like that...just wanted to get it up real
fast before I go out...

Spoilers for Season 2 ep 2: Britney/Brittany, also I

don't own Glee or any Glee characters

Stunningly Exposed

Quinn fought her eye roll with every ounce in her body
as Mr. Schue handed her his adult contemporary
sheet music. She didn't really mind the music she just
still couldn't figure out why she still kept coming to
Glee club. Everyone in the room either hated her or
was afraid of her, either way none of them were her
friends.

Quinn felt a spark of interest when Kurt mentioned

Britney Spears, but it was squashed a moment later.
This time with a spark of WTF as she looked at her
sometimes friend and fellow Cheerio. Was she
serious right now. Quinn shook her head, happy that
Brittany had Santana to look out for her. Whatever,
she thought. There went her first spark of interest in a
week. Quinn silently seconded Rachel Berry's motion
to move on and tried her best not to look as bored as
she felt.

The next day Glee was even worse than the day
before, and by worse she meant even more
ridiculous. Really, a dentist? Even worse a dentist that
would date Miss Pillsbury. She wondered if anyone
could tell that the smile on her face was completely
fake. She had spent most of last night looking in the
mirror practicing before she went to bed and she
knew that it was sitting just right on her face, but
honestly she had been wearing it all day and it was
actually starting to hurt.

She reluctantly put the little capsule in her mouth and

bared her teeth the same way everyone else did and
felt bad when everyone gasped at Rachel. She knew
the girl was telling the truth about flossing she had
been unfortunate enough to witness it last year and
rolled her eyes. She thought Rachel had nice teeth.
Stupid dentist with his stupid dye. Whatever, Brittany
and Artie's teeth were way worse. Rachel's might
have been blue, but theirs actually looked grimy.

Cheerios practice was pretty grueling and the next

day Quinn decided to skip Glee club and visit the
dentist like everyone else. She wondered if Rachel
would lecture her the next day. Quinn smiled at the
thought of the little Diva cornering her with her hands
on her hips as she closed her locker and flung her
bag over her shoulder and shoved her skull candy in
her ears. All the talk of Britney Spears in Glee this
week had made her a little nostalgic and she had
devoted an entire play list to the pop princess much to
her dismay.

Carl the Dentist found one cavity on one of Quinn's

right molars and blamed it on her pregnancy. He
kindly told her that pregnancy sometimes weakened
the teeth and then told her that he would fix her up in
no time flat. Quinn woke forty five minutes later only
slightly annoyed that she had fallen prey to the
Britney syndrome everyone had been talking about as
the final notes to "Lucky" echoed in her head. She
rolled her eyes, thanked the dentist and drove home.

She tried to ignore her disappointment the next day

when she found out that she had missed Kurt freak
out on Schue. Even more disappointing though:
Rachel hadn't threatened her about missing Glee the
previous day. She begrudgingly wondered if there
was something bothering her. Then she wondered
why she cared.

Quinn was standing outside of her first period class

when she saw Rachel Berry walk into school the next
day and she had to consciously remind herself to
keep her mouth closed. She swallowed as the diva
walked past her and smiled and did her best to keep
her face straight (and every other part of her straight)
as her gaze followed Rachel down the hall. Quinn felt
herself flush as she wondered how it was possible for
someone so damn short to have legs that never
ended. A moment later she rolled her eyes at herself
and decided to skip first period.

Glee was ridiculous for Quinn that day. She wanted to

laugh at the way Finn was staring at his girlfriend all
through rehearsal, but she felt a pang of sympathy for
the boy. It was taking every ounce of her self control
not to look at her the same way. She wished she
would have gotten a compliment out before Santana
and felt a pang of irritation at the Latina. What the hell
was wrong with her, she couldn't even meet Rachel's
eyes when she turned to include her in her speech.
Rachel was definitely a pretty girl.

Quinn had dropped her fake smile a few days ago

and was back to her signature scowl when she caught
sight of Puck gazing at her. He had been looking at
her like that for a while now and she had a nagging
feeling that he was screwing up his courage to come
and talk to her. Whatever, let him squirm she thought
as she slammed her locker. It wasn't a conversation
that she was ready to have. She was so wrapped up
in her thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin
when Rachel appeared out of no where.

Quinn rolled her eyes. A couple days ago she might

have actually gotten a kick out of one of her lectures,
today she just wanted to get home to her shower and
try to figure out why she continued to force herself to
get up and come to high school every day. She was
however relieved that Rachel had switched back to
her normal clothes. Avoiding the eye candy was easy
enough when everyone was around. She might not
have the same will power one on one. She tried not to
cringe at herself for referring to the small singer as
eye candy and waited for the girl to speak.

She looked at Rachel and made a face asking her If

she was going to speak or just stare. "Hello, Quinn." It
was then that Quinn noticed that Rachel was nervous.
"Are you excited to do Britney Spears at the
homecoming assembly?" Quinn just shrugged. "I don't
really think that it's appropriate. I think that Mr. Schue
is taking his quest to be a giant Man child a step too
far."

"What happened to embracing your inner pretty girl?"

Quinn asked. It was the first time she had any
inclination all week to strike up a conversation.

"While I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the

attention, I don't think I should need to be objectified
to feel attractive." Quinn knew what it felt like to be
Rachel in this moment and felt compelled to offer the
girl some comfort.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you are anyway."

She said quietly, trying to make her voice indifferent
as she delivered the closest thing to a compliment
that she had ever aimed at Rachel Berry. She was
relieved when the shorter girl let it go by with a simple
look of gratefulness.

"I think Finn is going to break up with me." Quinn

listened to her blurt out the sentence.

"Why? What happened?" Quinn accompanied her

question with an eye roll, but found herself hating the
fact that Finn could claim to love the girl standing in
front of her and at the same time evoke such feelings
of unworthiness in someone as confident as Rachel.

"Nothing. Everything. He's back on the football team,

Quinn. As I said to him earlier, our relationship only
works if both of us are losers."

Quinn didn't know why she was playing the bitch role,
but she was annoyed at Rachel calling herself a loser.
"You're not a loser, Ma- Berry." Quinn never realized
how natural it had become to call Rachel names. She
barely meant them anymore. "But why are you talking
to me about this?"

"Well because you are you, and even though I tell

myself every day that Finn loves me, I am also aware
that he does have a tendency to put an extreme
amount of emphasis on his popularity. That's where
you come in." Rachel handed Quinn a packet of
papers and the blonde arched her eyebrow as she
took it and reluctantly skimmed through it. "Fine.
Whatever." She agreed a moment later, oddly unable
to say no when Rachel widened her eyes at the
cheerleader.

Quinn swallowed when she spotted Finn and scowled

when she realized that she was nervous for Rachel.
Quinn had gone home the day before and read over
Rachel's power point a million times trying to sort out
how she felt about helping her. Part of her prayed
Finn passed the test because she didn't know if she
would be able to control her urge to kill the boy if he
didn't.

The other part, the one that she had been

successfully ignoring since the first week of school,
longed for him to fail because Rachel deserved so
much better than him. It would be less complicated if
he shut her down because then she could go back to
ignoring them both. Quinn caught sight of Rachel
behind Finn as she delivered the lines that Rachel
had included in her presentation. She hated and loved
the expression of anxiety on the brunettes face as she
waited for Quinn's answer. Quinn's throat clenched at
Finn's answer and steeled her expression as she
delivered the news to Rachel. She didn't have to see
her face to know that she was smiling and she
needed to get away before she did see it.

Quinn had once again found her way to the choir

room after school and was sitting in her seat, once
again struck by the way Rachel could look so
vulnerable as she stood in front of them and
addressed Finn. Quinn was finally seeing Rachel for
the first time in her entirety. She wasn't just the
obnoxious, bossy diva she had always known she
was, she was more than that. When she sang she
transformed and the Rachel Berry that stood in front
of them now, pouring her heart out, was stunningly
exposed.

--------

So I don't know if I'll keep this fic up because I don't

really know how many people are interested in it, plus
I have no real destination in mind. I know that
eventually it will have to split from the show and I
might just wait til I find the break to continue or for the
pure pleasure of writing this I might just keep winging
it. I don't know, let me know what you think if I should
continue or not. If i don't get any interest though I'll
prolley drop it for now because I do have another fic
in progress Also I was thinking if I do continue I might
switch to Rachel's POV for some chapters, again
would love your thoughts.

Since this Episode was mostly from Finn and Kurt

POV It meant that I could basically make up anything
I wanted so here's what I came up with...don't own
Glee, or Quinn's song. Spoilers for Season 2, Episode
3: Grilled Cheesus (Best title EVER!)
Startlingly Fragile

Quinn let her fingers dance over the keys and closed
her eyes as the notes echoed through the empty
church. She closed her eyes and for the first time in
her short life a prayer didn't come. She swallowed and
opened her eyes allowing her tears to fall over her
cheeks at the emptiness she felt in her heart. It all
started a week ago when Finn Hudson of all people
walked into Glee and confessed his love for Jesus. At
first the thought of singing about her faith had excited
Quinn and then Puck had said that he saw God every
time he made out with a new chick.

And when they were finished dancing and they all

collapsed back into the closest chair Quinn had
caught sight of Rachel's face staring at Finn in over
dramatic horror. Leave it to Finn to forget that his
girlfriend was Jewish. She had stared at Rachel and
considered what Puck had said. It was true, Quinn
realized. She felt something every time she heard
Rachel sing, and suddenly she felt guilty, and some of
her excitement dulled.

The rest was drained away when they got news about
Burt Hummel and the world had stopped. She had
heard the questions a million times and had always
believed the standard answer that God works in
mysterious ways, that people were not meant to
understand, but this time it was happening to
someone that she cared about. This time she could
feel the pain. She could feel how inadequate that
answer was.

Quinn spent the rest of the week grasping for her

faith, praying for Kurt's father and trying to ignore the
feelings that Rachel had been stirring in her since
they had gotten back to school. The last part was the
hardest especially when the singer had come to her
and asked her if she would accompany her to the
hospital to pray over Mr. Hummel.

Rachel had taken her hand as she bowed her head

and guilt had spread through Quinn as fast as the
spark that Rachel had created by touching her skin.
She had taken her turn and pulled her hand away
from the brunette, taking a seat to wait for her next
turn. That was when it hit her and she was thankful a
moment later when Kurt walked in and told them all to
leave. God was trying to teach her another lesson.

She thought about the way that Rachel's hand felt in

hers and the way that the brunette always looked at
her in a way that said she knew Quinn was a better
person. She thought about how much she had
softened toward the diva over the course of the last
year and how she felt whenever Rachel opened her
mouth to sing. She recalled every time she had not
been able to keep her eyes off of the tiny brunette and
every time that she had thought about how pretty
Rachel was and finally she thought what she had
been afraid to think all year long. She had a crush on
Rachel Berry and God was punishing Kurt to remind
her that what she was feeling was a sin. Quinn was
wracked with so much guilt that she had to run toward
the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth.

She had avoided Rachel at all costs the next few days
and could not bring herself to look Kurt in the eyes.
She had been unable to stop herself from tearing up
when he had sang his song and Quinn let herself feel
her doubt to her core by asking the one question that
every non believer asked in bitterness. What kind of
God let people live in so much pain.

Quinn's heart hurt at the emptiness her lack of faith

left there and She pounded the piano keys in despair
and headed toward the confessional. She knelt and
bowed her head, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
It has been one year since my last confession." Quinn
paused as she felt tears behind her eyes. "These are
my sins." And then Quinn's voice broke and she was
unable to hold back her sobs as she sat, thankful for
the dark as she wondered where to start.

When she still could not speak after 10 minutes the

priest spoke for her, "I know what a rough year you've
had, child, stay as long as you like and begin
whenever you feel ready." He sad kindly and Quinn
took a small comfort in his voice and the familiarity of
the confessional.
"A lot has been happening this week, Father. There's
a boy at school who lost his mother and might lose his
father. He's an atheist, and I can't help understanding
his doubt. I said a prayer, and I didn't believe that it
would be answered, and I-" Quinn's breath caught in
her throat with a new round of tears as she tried to
confess the feelings that Rachel had been inspiring in
her lately. "He's…a homosexual, Father." She said
instead, deciding to save that particular sin for her
next confession. "Is God punishing him?"

"That child, is a question that is not easily answered,

why don't we focus on your crisis of faith?" Quinn
listened to the priest speak finding a small amount of
comfort in his words. "Everyone's Faith is tested at
some time in their lives, and during trying times it is
easy to make it sway, but even a doubting man has
Faith in the absence of God. Remember God is not
only present in us, but in everything that we do.
You're heart may feel empty right now in your time of
despair, but the Lord has not forsaken you. Once you
remember that perhaps you can go to this boy and try
to shake his faith."

Quinn actually smiled at his words, "For this and all

the sins of my past , I ask pardon of God, penance,
and absolution from you."

"Please read Second Timothy Chapter two and

Matthew Chapter 21 verses 18-22 as penance and
perhaps when you read the words of our Lord you will
be able to return to your friend and say a prayer with
Faith in our Savior."

"Thank you, Father," Quinn said as she recited her

Act of Contrition and the priest absolved her. Quinn
left the confessional still feeling shaken and guilty, but
a little bit calmer than when she had went in…

Finn's song had left Quinn aimless and sympathetic

and Quinn found herself sitting in the choir room in
front of the piano when Rachel joined her on the
bench. She was emotionally exhausted and could not
even muster up the energy to greet the girl. "Hello,
Quinn." Quinn could hear the distress in Rachel's
voice and looked at her questioningly.

"I'm a horrible person, Quinn." Quinn just arched her

eyebrow at Rachel and waited for her to continue.
"Kurt's father could be dying, he's going through this
huge thing and all I can think about is myself. How
inconvenient it is for Finn to have suddenly found
Jesus, about my song getting ruined and how upset I
am at the fact that getting to second base with Finn
was less spectacular that I thought it would be. I'm
selfish, all I ever think about is myself and I try to be
better, but I can't help it. What are you doing here,
Quinn? Usually I am the only one here when Glee is
not in session."

Quinn's head spun as the words flowed out of

Rachel's mouth, but instead of being annoyed she
hung on every word that came out of Rachel's mouth
trying not to revel in Rachel's disappointment over
Finn's lack of making out skills. "You don't own the
choir room, Treasure Trail." She said in annoyance,
more at herself than Rachel. "Other people can use it
too."

Rachel looked at her hands, "I didn't mean it like that,

I just meant that, well I was concerned that you might
be experiencing some issues of your own and I was
going to offer my assistance. I know we're not friends,
but trying circumstances might allow us to overlook
our differences for today if you need someone to talk
to…" Rachel let her voice trail off nervously and
fiddled with a key on the piano.

Quinn swallowed, "I'm sorry, Berry. And you can be a

little self absorbed sometimes, but that's not the same
as being selfish." Quinn gave the compliment as
penance for the name calling and rolled her eyes at
herself when Rachel's hopeful look made her feel
better. "I was looking for God." She said quietly into
the silence.

Rachel played the opening notes to 'One of Us' and

Quinn smiled. "Wish we could sing that one, Tina's
voice would be perfect for it."

Quinn turned toward Rachel and actually smiled, "See

you are getting better. Last year you wouldn't have
even thought of giving a solo away." Quinn paused
and then asked shyly, "Do you want to hear the song I
picked for the spirituality assignment? I know it was
cancelled, but I did it anyway."

Rachel smiled encouragingly and Quinn shuffled her

sheet music on the piano before letting her fingers
dance over the keys. She closed her eyes as she
sang.

God loves a lullaby

In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves a drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Quinn felt Rachel shift beside her and when she

opened her eyes Rachel's brown ones were staring at
her in soft surprise at the openness and honesty that
Quinn was sure was on her face as she began the
chorus to her song.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

And as she sang she realized why she had picked

this song and the truth in what her priest had told her,
which sounded a lot like what Puck had said. God
was in the experiences.

The woman holding on for life,

The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Quinn closed her eyes in her own shame and

continued to sing, her heart clenching when she
heard Rachel's quiet soprano come in on the second
chorus.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Quinn opened her eyes and let unchecked tears fall

over her cheeks as she once again met Rachel's
huge brown eyes, this time unable to look away as
Rachel's compassion showed as she sang.

Better than a church bell ringing,

Better than a choir singing out, singing out.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Neither girl looked away when the song finished and

Quinn's chest felt full of emotion as they caught their
breath. Quinn had become so immersed in her voice
and her eyes as she sang that she had not heard
anyone enter the choir room, but a moment later a
throat cleared behind the girls and Quinn hung her
head in shame. "That was really beautiful, Quinn."
Kurt smiled softly as his tears matched Quinn's. He
moved from the chair he was sitting on toward the
door stopping hesitantly as he opened it. "I don't really
know which of you did the trick, but maybe you could
both give him a thank you tonight for letting me keep
my father." Kurt smiled and left the choir room.

Quinn felt her heart fill up as she realized that God

was everywhere. He had been in Kurt's smile, in
Quinn's song and when Quinn glanced over at
Rachel, He was in the tears that were running down
Rachel's face as she finally let her emotion spill into
her tears of relief. Rachel was confident and
narcissistic, she could be abrasive and harsh, but in
this moment, crying her relief into Quinn's shoulder,
Rachel Berry was startlingly fragile.

---------

After all the responses from the last chapter I decided

I better keep up on this story as well, so here's how I'll
work it. I'll probably write a chapter behind the
episodes that are aired so the Rocky Horror episode
won't be done until next week when the new ep
comes on. That is just so I can look ahead a week
and decide if that is where to break off from the show,
since I have no real idea for where this is going
besides Quinn getting to know Rachel from afar. Also
if you have any ideas on how to describe Rachel
during the episodes, and want to try and help me out,
feel free to share because that is by far the hardest
part of writing this story. Thanks for all the support
and reviews, keep them coming, I love to hear what
you think :)

Cassicio-I'm soooo glad you recognized the song! I

am currently in love with it also, it's just really beautiful
and hopeful that not all christians believe that God
doesn't appreciate imperfection...Hope you like the
new chapter.

SoreashaAdams37-Haven't read your story for a while

(liked it though), only because I try not to read any fics
while I write, it's distracting and makes me feel
inadequate which makes it hard to come up with
anything. But anyway you're right it is hard to twist
things in your favor. Especially when it comes to
scenes that weren't in the episode because I have to
come up with stuff that won't interfere with the actual
episodes...at least for a while longer. Good luck with
yours, I'll catch up on it soon :) and also a Faberry
kiss would make my year, does that make me lame?
tarebear23- Thank you, I love to write Quinn. As you
know from reading my other story I find her
intriguingly complicated :) Hope you like this, don't
want to have wrecked your fave episode lol. FYI- I am
actually working on the next chapter to my other fic
right now so look for it within a day or two (fingers
crossed).

Hmmm…so I read somewhere that Chord

Overstreet's storyline was changed to pair him with
Quinn when everyone saw how much chemistry he
had with Dianna Agron, and I just don't see it. Don't
get me wrong they are cute together, and I personally
think he's one of the most adorable guys I've ever
seen for some reason, but I like the way he interacted
with Kurt better than Quinn…

Wholeheartedly Generous

Quinn was torn when she heard about Puck. She

hated that everyone automatically thought he was
stupid and felt an urge to stab Finn with her pencil.
She watched him with Rachel and wondered how
everything always seemed to end up with him
swimming in Roses. She rolled her eyes and hoped
he got poked by a thorn.

Sam was cute. Even Quinn couldn't deny that he was

definitely pleasing to look at. She was startled for a
moment at the thought of finding Sam attractive. It
had been so long since she had noticed anyone
besides a certain tiny diva and she felt a tiny rush of
relief that turned to further irritation at Finn when he
seemed a little bit too eager in welcoming Sam to
Glee. Quinn held back her smile at Sam's joke, he
was adorable in a goofy way and she felt a stab of
sympathy for him, this school was going to eat him
alive. Quinn went back to tapping her pencil and tried
to pinpoint the exact moment she began to think that
Rachel's over eagerness in raising her hand was also
adorable.

She listened to the excitement over Breadstix and

tried to fight her confusion as her gaze shifted
between Rachel and Sam. It wasn't as though she
was trying to decide who to sing with, it was pretty
much a given that Rachel would be singing with Finn
and she didn't even want to do this stupid assignment
anyway. Even though she knew she would probably
skip this one (What would Schuester do? Fail her?),
Quinn felt her heart sink a little bit as she looked
around the room and realized that there wasn't a
single person there who might have been willing to
sing a duet with her if she had wanted to do the
assignment.

Quinn changed into her jeans and a hoodie after

cheerleading practice that day and found herself
sitting at a table in a dingy room, across from the only
person she knew at this moment was as damaged
and empty as she was. "I'm surprised you came." He
said.

Quinn was silent for a moment. "Do you need

anything?" She asked quietly not able to bring herself
to meet his eyes.

"Please, like your coming back to this dump."

"Puck."

"Look it's okay, alright. I get it." Puck's face was hard,
but Quinn knew that he was trying to hold back his
grief. He looked at her like this every time they were
together, like he was in pain and she was sure that
her eyes would mirror the same thing that was in his if
she could ever bring herself to meet them.

"I know you do, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"Yeah. I get that too." Quinn watched Puck wring his

fingers around each other. They sat in silence and he
pulled his hands away when she reached over to
comfort him. Quinn pulled back into her own chair and
sighed. "Thanks for coming Baby Mama, I thought
Rachel would be the only one."

Quinn's heart skipped when Puck mentioned Rachel's

name and she smiled wondering how the brunette
really believed that she was selfish. "Rachel?"

"Yeah she mostly lectured me about Glee club and

shit, but she brought these vegan cookies and they
were actually pretty fuckin' tasty. The deliciousness
distracted me from choking her." Puck paused and
shrugged. "She's pretty crazy, but sometimes it's nice
to hear that at least one person thinks you're not a
screw up."

Quinn smiled softly. "Well, now there's two of us

then." She offered.

He smirked thankfully as she got up and called after

her. "Hey, it was an accident you know. I wasn't trying
to rob the place. I was pissed and didn't realize it was
in reverse. The store owner made all that shit up. And
if you tell anyone about that I'll make sure to let
everyone know that you're not really the bitch you
want them to think you are."

Quinn smiled sadly, in some ways Puck was perfect

for her, "See you when you get out." Quinn left,
leaving him slouching in his chair looking thoughtfully
at a spot on the table in front of him.

For a number of reasons Quinn panicked when Sam

tried to kiss her. The first being the intensity in his
eyes when he held her gaze, another being the flash
of Rachel's face behind her own eyes as they fluttered
closed for half a second before she backed away from
him. Quinn stuttered out excuses as she left a
puzzled and apologetic Sam staring at her retreating
form.
She sat off by herself at Glee club that day and tried
to keep her gaze from wandering toward Sam. She
should be relieved that a part of her had wanted him
to kiss her, relieved that after everything that had
went down last year she was still capable of human
feelings, but she had run. She hated the feelings that
had crept up on her the few times that she had talked
to Sam. She hated the fact that there was still a part
of her that was Weak. Quinn Fabray didn't need
anyone. She made good grades, stayed on top and
when the time came she was going to blow this stupid
little town and never look back. She didn't want to
leave anyone behind who made her want to look
back.

Quinn steeled her self when Rachel walked into the

bathroom and regarded the girl with an air of
practiced indifference as she talked about the duet
with Sam. Quinn felt her eyes roll affectionately and
decided she needed to get he hell out of there before
her practiced indifference morphed into a smile. It was
only when she was at the door that she realized how
out of character Rachel was being and turned on the
diva accusingly. Rachel was cute when she was
lecturing and being all intense and it took all of
Quinn's muscle control not to smirk as she thought of
different methods that would shut her up. "Fine. I'll
sing with the new kid, if it will shut you up, stalker."

It wasn't until after her date with Sam that she realized
that Rachel had fixed the competition. She had gone
home smiling, said goodnight to her mother and was
laying in bed thinking about the diva when it hit her.
Rachel Berry would never choose such an offensive
song for a competition, winning singing competitions
was probably all Rachel thought about. Quinn tracked
her down the next day before Glee, finding her in the
auditorium with Kurt.

She hung back for a moment when she heard the

laughter and she felt her heart warm at Rachel's laugh
and smiled wondering when she had gotten so used
to her body's reactions around the brunette. She
continued watching them, obviously rehearsing for
something and having fun doing it as Rachel laughed
again and flashed Kurt a genuine smile. It was oddly
warming watching the two diva's with all of their
defenses down, just being real with each other and
she found herself smiling in happiness for Rachel that
maybe she had found a friend for a moment, even if it
probably wouldn't last.

Quinn finally willed herself out of the shadows,

knowing that if she let herself she could admire
Rachel for hours at a time, and headed toward the
stage. Both performers were startled when Quinn
cleared her throat and set her hands on her hips
looking at Rachel pointedly. "I think it's ready, Rachel.
I'll see you in Glee. I trust you remembered your
costume." Rachel nodded and Quinn watched Kurt
straighten up and walk out of the auditorium with his
usual arrogance.

"Why'd you fix the duet contest?" Quinn decided to

get straight to the point.

"I don't know what you're talking about Quinn. I would

do no such thing." Rachel turned from the blonde and
began gathering her books and sheet music.

"You're a good actress, Stubbles, but you suck at

lying. Why did you fix it?" Quinn asked in her head
bitch voice.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll tell you. I wanted to

do something nice for you." This caught Quinn of
guard and she lifted her eyebrow at the girl when she
finally turned to face her. "I wanted to do something
nice. I tried to do it by talking Finn into letting Sam win
the competition to boost his confidence so he wouldn't
quit Glee. At first I thought I was being generous, but
then Finn pointed out that I was only doing it so we
would have enough members to compete this year."

Quinn tried to let Rachel speak and bit her lip to keep
from snapping at the girl to get to the point. "Finn
decided in order for him to win he couldn't sing with
Kurt, he had to sing with you. No offense, but I think
he would have had a better chance with Kurt, he
doesn't tend to go sharp." Quinn almost smiled at
Rachel's honesty, but kept her lip trapped as Rachel
continued. "I saw you leaving the choir room one day
before you guys got in the fight, and you were
smiling." Rachel paused here and ducked her head
with a shy smile. "I thought it was nice that you
weren't alone for once. Remember when we did the
Mash ups last year? You had fun. I assumed that you
were having fun doing the duet with Sam, you smiled
like you enjoyed him and he's new and needed a
friend. That is the reason that I talked you into going
back to him. It is oddly nice when you smile, maybe
because you don't do it enough." Rachel ended
thoughtfully.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Berry. People

might start to think we're friends." But Quinn said it
with a smile and motioned for the smaller girl to walk
to Glee with her. They didn't arrive together because
Rachel had to stop and change into her costume.
Quinn had found out that Rachel and Kurt were
singing a duet together that day and Quinn found
herself wiggling in her chair in anticipation f the
performance.

The divas sat comfortably next to each other and as

they sang Quinn thought that what Rachel had done
was the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for
her. Rachel had noticed her, how unhappy she had
been and how much she had needed someone to
make her smile, even if she had not been able to see
it herself. She had understood that Sam was new and
awkward and unlikely to make any friends on his own
(because let's face it he might be sweet and cute, but
the kid was weird). She had given them both a friend
when they needed it most and, doing it in secret, had
asked for nothing in return.

Quinn found it sad that no one around her really

understood how amazing the girl in front of them was,
including her boyfriend who had no idea how lucky he
was to have her. She kept them together. Even if
none of them liked each other, she knew that they all
loved Glee. She gave them all the strength to
remember that high school wouldn't last forever so
every once in a while they could be better than they're
reputations. Rachel was more than any of them gave
her credit for. No one ever bothered to look past her
eager selfishness to see that the Rachel Berry who
was singing a duet with a boy that made it his
business to ridicule her every single day, was in fact
wholeheartedly generous.