You're Mine

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/18881632.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/F
Fandom: Glee
Relationship: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Character: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Humor, like so much fluff, Quinn knows what she
wants and owns it, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Possessive
Quinn, Protective Quinn, Oblivious Rachel, Poor Rachel is confused
with no idea what's happening, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Wow
I'm really going all in on these tags huh, Useless Lesbians,
Hurt/Comfort
Collections: Discord Community Archive
Stats: Published: 2019-05-19 Updated: 2019-09-03 Chapters: 17/25 Words:
97381

You're Mine
by ParadoxalPen

Summary

Her eyes narrow further, and Quinn growls, low and husky. "I don't want a stupid boy,
Berry."
In which Quinn is sex on legs, and Rachel is confused (read: horny). Faberry rewrite of
junior year with possessive/protective!Quinn, updates every Sunday.

Notes

Faberry – In which I take every Faberry date situation possible, mash them together with
possessive/protective!Quinn, and manage to bash Finn, run through an actual plot, and still
keep it somewhat T-rated at the same time.
Aiiii got this out just in time for Glee’s 10th anniversary – I’ve already gotten 28k done, so
even with my finals slaughtering me during the next month I should be able to make do on
my update schedule
Note: No Lucy storyline, will be updated every Sunday.

(25/11/19 Edit:) To new readers: The first few chapters are honestly a bit rough imo (or at
least, don't match up to the quality of my other works) but I'm told it gets better as it goes
on, so if you're up to it, please bear with me for a bit. Also update's gonna come out soon
(probably), promise
 I. Part I

I.

The first time it happens, Rachel is utterly confused.

And horny.

Like really horny.

Like really, really, super-duper, I’m-hot-all-over and I’m going to hump anything horny.

(But that’s not the point, so hush.)

It’s the start of junior year, and Rachel’s at her locker, getting her books, because after all, even
though no teacher actually teaches on the first day, it’s always good to be prepared, and Rachel
Berry is nothing but prepared, PowerPoints and itineraries galore.

At the corner of her eye, she spots Finn lumbering his way down the hallway, and he shoots her a
dopey grin when he sees her, crooked in his typical fashion.

Rachel cringes when she realizes that she used to swoon over that very face, and she discreetly tries
to find a way out of the no-doubt going to be awkward conversation, glancing sideways to see if
Kurt or Mercedes is nearby.

Feeling Finn’s large stature towering over her with no way to escape the enviable encounter, she
turns to the giant with a tight smile, fighting off the immense urge to grimace. “Hello, Finn. How
may I be of service?”

“Um, I was thinking,” he starts, scratching his head. “Later, we could, you know, go to Breadstix
for dinner?”

This time, Rachel can’t resist the wince coming out. God knows she loves the boy, insensitive and
moronic as he can be, but she isn’t and probably isn’t ever going to be in love with him, and the
idea that she would’ve dropped everything in a heartbeat to take him up on his offer a year ago
sends an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

After regionals last year and with a clearer perspective on things, she had realized that rather, she
was in love with the idea of him, her perfect leading man. Of someone loving her unconditionally
and taking care of her no matter her faults.

Finn evidently couldn’t be that someone, only ever seeming to want her whenever it was
convenient for him. He could be sweet when he wanted to be and Rachel knows that he would
make some girl happy someday, but it wouldn’t be her. Her dreams lie with the shining bright
lights of Broadway, and Finn’s small-town dreams have no place in New York.

She’s about to turn him down, hopefully as painlessly as possible, when a familiar figure slides in
between them.

Rachel’s stomach drops, and her heart beats a little bit quicker at the sight of red, white and black
over a once-again lithe body and a perfectly immaculate blonde ponytail. Quinn Fabray is at the
top of the pyramid again, it seems like, which does not bode well for the diva at all.
Truthfully, a part of her thinks that whatever retaliation the reinstated Cheerio has in store for her is
well-deserved, what with all the things Rachel had done to her over the past year, but Quinn isn’t
facing her, so she supposes that the blonde is playing the ignoring game.

Somehow, it actually hurts more than if she had thrown insults at her, because the Cheerio has
been a lot of things to Rachel, but never inattentive, and she’s a little bit ashamed of this part, but
one of the only things that had kept Rachel from breaking down in the face of countless Slushies
last year was the comfort in the fact that only she could draw evident emotion from the unflappable
and ever-aloof Quinn Fabray during their confrontations. It felt like she held a part of the blonde
that no one else had, and now it was being pried away from her.

Well, they’ll have to pry it from her cold dead body then.

She’s about to give the blonde a piece of her mind when Finn of all people speaks first, “Look
Quinn, I know you still like me, but I like Rachel now, so can you like, move over?”

Rachel can’t see Quinn’s reaction, but then the Cheerio lets out a low growl from her throat, before
relaxing, and the shorter girl just knows that Finn is going to get a severe tongue-lashing.

The blonde takes a few measured steps towards the boy, her perfectly white tennis shoes clacking
against the floor. Somehow, Quinn still keeps her body poised in front of Rachel, effectively
blocking Finn’s sight of her.

“Listen closely Finnsolence,” the blonde’s tone takes on a saccharine sweet hue, no louder than a
whisper, as she leans in dangerously. “I’m going to say this very carefully, because I know that
your idiotic brain takes a centillion more years than others to process things. Rachel’s not
interested, get it through your thick skull. So. Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Every word is enunciated in a way to deliver as much subtle intimidation as possible, sending a
rush through Rachel and making her heart quicken for a very different reason, skipping a few
beats.

Quinn’s shoulder muscles flex as she corners Finn, and Rachel finds her mouth getting dry and her
throat reflexively swallowing at the sight, a pool of heat suddenly gathering in her lower belly.

Now that she’s not at the terrifyingly terrifying receiving side of Quinn’s wrath, and instead an
onlooker, Rachel can’t deny that Quinn in HBIC mode is hot, the diva hyperaware of every move
the Cheerio makes. Even watching Quinn from the back makes her hot all over, and she can
already imagine the taller girl’s flaring eyes and clenched jaw, having seen it too many times to
count.

Finn visibly recoils, taking a step back, but then he regains some of his boldness and surges back
forward again after a moment, a petulant frown on his face. Quinn is not impressed, and Rachel
can just picture her raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are we done here?”

Seeming to understand that he wouldn’t be winning against Quinn, Finn turns his attentions to
elsewhere with a poor imitation of a scowl. “Rachel wants to go out with me, don’t you Rach?”

Almost instantly, Quinn spins around to gauge the brunette’s reaction, making her Cheerio’s skirt
fly up, and Rachel’s eyes trace the movement with fervor, darkening at smooth pale legs.

She doesn’t even notice she’s staring until she sees the wry smirk on Quinn’s face, and Rachel
jerks her eyes away immediately, blushing like a tomato.

“Finn, while I do appreciate your gesture,” she says finally, and when the blonde’s eyes narrow and
Finn starts to smile smugly, she rushes to explain, “I don’t think that we work well together, and I
believe that it would be much more beneficial for us is we stayed as comrades.”

The giant boy frowns, the gears in his head slowly moving, and Rachel’s about to give him a little
push, but Quinn beats her to it, albeit blunter than she would’ve liked to.

Hazel eyes still locked with hers, the blonde doesn’t even turn to look at Finn as she orders in her
HBIC voice, “It means that she’s telling you to fuck off, Hudson.”

Finn scowls, and it’s clear that he’s not happy about it, but really, no one can go up against Quinn
Fabray and come out on top, much less Finn Hudson, so he storms away, with a look in his eyes
that tells Rachel that he’s not giving up any time soon, and it makes her groan internally.

Meanwhile, Quinn is still staring at her eyes, as if she’s trying to figure something out, and without
the distraction of Finn, Rachel suddenly feels self-conscious, and she darts her eyes away,
unconsciously shrinking into herself.

“Eyes up, Berry,” the taller girl suddenly commands, snapping her fingers to force chestnut brown
to meet hazel.

Rachel is breathless.

She’s always thought Quinn to be the prettiest girl she’s ever met, but before, she was only able to
admire her from afar, and now that she’s face to face with the blonde girl, she seems even more
stunning, every ridge and curve on her face toned to perfection.

Enraptured by the swirling pools of golden in Quinn’s blazing eyes, Rachel can’t bring herself to
look away, absolutely captivated by how the cheerleader’s eyes light up with passion, beaming
with life.

She really ought to break eye contact now, lest someone think that she’s being creepy as fuck, but
she can’t.

Quinn studies her meticulously, and the brunette forces herself to meet her hot gaze evenly, even
though her insides are probably mush at this point, and her heart is beating ferociously, not letting
up no matter what.

Just when she thinks that her legs are going to give out from the blonde’s intense look-over, said
blonde’s brow furrows, like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and she stands up straighter, before
turning away without a word, skirt flying up at the same time.

Rachel’s left leaning against her locker, breaths heavy and blood pumping loud as she wonders
what the fuck just happened.

And desperately in need of a cold shower.

Very desperately.

X-X-X-X-X

She doesn’t see Quinn until Glee comes around, and her mind is still restless at what had occurred
earlier, her numerous theories driving herself crazy.

Quinn had never warned Finn off before, always choosing the petite diva as her target, but this
time, she had channeled nearly all the HBIC she had to deal with the giant boy, and it was a
relieving and startling surprise to Rachel all at once.

Like, what if the blonde’s planning to murder her, and this is the start of whatever plot she’s
whipped up? What if Quinn got abducted and brainwashed, and now she’s going to take over the
world? What if she got bitten by a vampire and-

It’s at that point when Rachel forces herself to stop overthinking everything, and she settles down
on her usual seat at the first row, waiting for the others to trickle into the choir room.

Soon enough, Quinn enters, Santana and Brittany flanking her sides in their perfect Unholy Trinity
fashion, and she doesn’t even look the diva’s way, simply walking to claim their seats at the back
corner.

Rachel knows that she should be counting herself lucky that she didn’t get insults hurled in her face
instead, but somehow, she feels almost…disappointed that Quinn didn’t acknowledge her, and the
feeling sits on her chest uncomfortably.

But it’s not long before she feels a familiar gaze piercing through the back of her head, and she tries
to inconspicuously sneak a peak at Quinn, only to find her staring back with a perfectly sculpted
eyebrow quirked.

Well, that certainly is a new development.

Before, during sophomore year, every time Rachel would catch the cheerleader looking at her,
Quinn would quickly look away with a few choice derogatory words thrown, but now, the blonde
meets her eyes steadily, unwavering in her heated gaze.

Rachel feels a slight shiver roll through her at the sight, and her throat suddenly feels parched, the
room somehow hotter than it was before.

Thankfully, she’s saved by Mr. Schue coming in the choir room – late as always – and clapping his
hands together excitedly as if that would motivate them, and she turns back around to face their
teacher quickly, still feeling Quinn’s eyes burning through her head, and she fights not to let her
goosebumps show.

Throughout Glee, the gaze never wavers far from her, and Rachel can admit that it makes her feel a
little bit giddy, knowing that she has Quinn Fabray’s attention solely focused on her.

And maybe just a little bit terrified.

X-X-X-X-X

When Glee finally ends, she breathes a sigh of relief and readies her song arrangements, waiting by
the piano so that she can rehearse when everyone’s gone.

…Everyone except Quinn apparently, because even ten minutes after Mr. Schue had dismissed
them, she’s still in her chair, looking at the brunette with an indecipherable expression.
Rachel can’t muster the courage to make an enquiry as to why the girl’s still here and not at
Cheerio practice, so she only watches as Quinn slowly stands up, still with an unreadable look in
her eyes, and she walks towards the singer with careful, measured steps, causing her heartbeat to
spike with each one.

“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel finally brings herself to say, trying not to let her nervousness show. “Not to
be rude, but why are you still in the choir room?”

It’s as if the Cheerio doesn’t register her words, because Quinn just takes another step closer, so
close that their noses are almost touching, and she narrows her eyes a tiny bit.

“Are you dating Finn now?”

Oh.

So this is what this is about.

Rachel can’t help but feel a slight upset in her stomach, though she has no idea why, and she
swallows. “Quinn, if your unusual behavior is because you want Finn back, then by all means, you
can have him. As I said earlier this morning, I have no interest in taking him back, so you can
pursue him at your wishes.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say, because the next thing she knows, Quinn’s eyes narrow
further, lighting up with something, and she growls, low and husky. “I don’t want a stupid boy,
Berry.”

And with that, she turns away and leaves, the steps of her tennis shoes reverberating throughout the
choir room.

Is this what Rachel’s diva storm-outs felt like? If so, she really needed to write a letter of apology
to the Glee club.

But then again, there’s no way she can compare to Quinn’s ass swaying deviously, because damn,
that’s a-

Wait.

Straight thoughts, Rachel. Straight thoughts.

(She ignores the fact that she’s identified as bisexual her whole life.)

It’s not like the blonde beauty would ever want her anyway, even if she did say she didn’t want a
boy-

Oh shit.

She’s screwed. Rachel’s so screwed.

(She wishes, actually.)

X-X-X-X-X
Quinn doesn’t initiate contact with her again for a while, granting her a reprieve from the
rollercoaster of emotions that come with their every encounter, and Rachel’s not sure what the
sinking feeling in her chest is at that.

But whenever Finn would walk her way after Glee, the head Cheerio would shoot him a warning
look, warding him off, and for that at least, Rachel’s grateful, even though she knows that she’ll
have to shut him down completely eventually.

It’s not until next Tuesday, when she looks down at her Pre-Calc test and frowning at the big red C
at the top right corner that she notices Quinn walking past, staring with her in interest.

Rachel waits for the inevitable verbal abuse to come, but it never does.

The Cheerio merely lets a small smirk appear, and continues on her way, hips swaying dangerously
as usual.

Quinn hasn’t done anything to her ever since school started, but the singer still feels surprised
when she doesn’t take perfectly good opportunities to take shots at her. Hell, the blonde’s even
been nice to her sometimes, smiling slightly at her in the hallways.

The first time she had done that, Rachel had looked behind her to see if she was just in the way of
Quinn’s gaze, but there was no one.

The entire hallway had frozen in shock at the gesture as well, but the queen of Mckinley High
didn’t react at all, simply moving along as the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea.

Rachel can’t contain her grin at the memory, but then she sees Sam, the new kid, looking Quinn’s
way with a dreamy and wistful look on his face.

Rachel shoves the test in her locker as far as it will go, and slams it shut.

X-X-X-X-X

It’s not like she doesn’t like this Sam guy.

It’s not like she doesn’t like his stupid haircut, and his goddamn trouty-mouth, and his fucking
moon-eyes at-

Look, she’s perfectly fine with him, okay? Perfectly fine.

But when he walks into the choir room with his swagger walk that makes her irrationally want to
punch him, shooting love-eyes at Quinn during the entirety of his introduction, she maybe snaps
her pen by gripping it a little bit too hard.

(Or a whole fucking lot.)

She’s almost tempted to use her Glee captain rights to somehow veto him, but she knows that they
need him, like it or not, so she crosses her arms and looks away with a huff, before raising her hand
to sing a moving ballad about overcoming adversary that will definitely bring everyone to tears.

Quinn’s eyes never stray from her during her song, and she nearly forgets the lyrics, because has
the blonde always looked at her like that, with her eyes lighting up?
The honor-roll student focuses on her with a soft smile, head slowly swaying to the piano
arrangement Brad is playing, and Rachel’s heart beats a few beats quicker, sending flutters to her
stomach.

When Rachel belts out the last closing note, she resists the urge to scream “Ha, take that!” to Sam’s
fucking face.

The ugly feeling in her stomach isn’t jealousy, alright? Sam can go after Quinn if he wants to, she’s
just…looking out for a friend, that’s all.

She’s determined to befriend the cheerleader this year, so naturally, the first step is to background-
check said cheerleader’s potential love interests. A relationship between Quinn and Sam would
practically be incestuous, like Barbie and Ken or something, so really, she’s just helping them
along from a lawsuit in the far future.

Ignoring the weird feeling in her chest at the thought of Fabrevans – ugh, even their would-be ship
name sounds bad – together, she pushes it away and instead directs her attention to Mr. Schue,
plotting ways to convince the teacher not to wait till the last minute for once to prepare for
sectionals.

She manages to get through the rest of Glee, though she frowns every time she spots Sam smiling
at Quinn – you can’t judge her, it’s just that the image of them together is unappealing, okay?

Sam starts to walk in the blonde’s direction after Mr. Schue dismisses them, and Rachel can’t help
her instant petulant scowl, resisting the urge to stomp her foot as she determinedly looks the other
way.

The football player can do whatever the fuck he wants, and if he wants Quinn, then good for him,
who wouldn’t really, she’s like the catch of the century, what with her delicious ass and-

Straight thoughts, dammit!

Look, bottom line is that Rachel knows these things, and Fabrevans will never fit together, so she’s
just doing them a favor by stopping their disgusting mating dance.

But when Quinn brushes Sam off to instead walk in the brunette’s direction, she can’t reach a
decision on whether to feel fearful or triumphant.

Judging by the way she internally cheers at Sam’s puppy face as he leaves, and the way shes gulps
at Quinn’s purposeful strides, it’s probably both.

The head Cheerio comes to a halt in front of her, and Rachel tries her very best to conjure up some
false bravado. “Good day, Quinn. Is there anything you need?”

Of course, like usual, the taller girl doesn’t directly respond. Tilting her head a slight bit with a
perplexed look in her eye that really shouldn’t be as cute as Rachel finds it, Quinn hums, a low purr
from her throat.

“Friday after school. My place. I’m tutoring you in pre-calc.”

The blonde’s tone is to-the-point and blunt, and Rachel blinks twice, not quite processing the string
of words that Quinn had said. “I’m…sorry?”

“Pay attention, Berry. You clearly need help with that ugly red C, so I’m offering it to you, Friday
at my place,” Quinn drawls, sounding both intense and bored at the same time, hazel eyes boring
into the singer’s with a gleam in them. “I’m taking AP Calculus BC this year, and I’ve kept
Brittany on a B+ average in math, if you think I’m not up to it.”

“No, I- of course I don’t doubt your ability – you are on the honor-roll, after all,” Rachel stammers
her way through, mind reeling with thoughts. “I just- well, we’ve had a rather…tremulous history,
so forgive me if I’m quite skeptical of this being some sort of prank device to humiliate me once
again.”

Softening, Quinn’s face twists in something akin to remorse, making the small brunette even more
surprised, and Quinn sighs.

“Look Rachel, for what it’s worth, I- I am sorry, for…for everything,” she speaks softly, meeting
Rachel’s eyes with such sincerity that it almost knocks the diva off her feet. “I’m trying to be better
this year, and I’m starting by attempting to make amends with you.”

Rachel doesn’t quite process the words for a moment, running through her head uselessly, but
when she does, all the air leaves her lungs at once, leaving her breathless and enamored and weak
at the knees, because this side of Quinn Fabray is one that she’s only caught a rare glimpse of, one
that is genuine and warm, and Rachel finds that she quite likes it, if not a bit scared at the same
time.

“I- I’m sorry too,” she says when she feels like she can finally function again, still not believing
that this is actually happening. Blinking once again, she tries her best to clear her head, intending
on using this opportunity to get rid of the weight on her chest. “I shouldn’t have gone after Finn
when he was your boyfriend, and I definitely shouldn’t have told him about the baby’s true father
so hastily in my convoluted attempt to win him over. I admire how you sucked it up and lived with
Noah afterwards though; your decision to move out certainly made things less awkward.”

For a second, Quinn looks heart-warmed and amused, but then her expression changes into one
more conflicted, debating if she should say something. “Rachel,” she says, before wincing as if
she’s bracing herself. “Finn kicked me out.”

The blonde’s eyes flick down as she says it, looking like she’s ashamed or embarrassed. Rachel
notices the way that her shoulders almost imperceptibly hunch in, though it’s clear that Quinn is
doing her hardest to put on a poker mask, her famed ice queen look.

The petite singer feels a pretty large range of emotions at once at the revelation.

Guilt for putting the taller girl in that position, anger at Finn, irrational disappointment that Quinn
didn’t come to her for help, more anger at Finn, hurt for the blonde, even more anger at Finn, and
well, anger at Finn.

“He did what now?”

Okay, maybe she can understand where he’s coming from, and she even sympathized with him for
his grief and loss, but all that went out of the window once Quinn let that particular piece of
information slip. The boy had every right to feel hurt and scorned, but to kick a pregnant sixteen-
year-old out?

Well, let’s just say that she had not just a few, but a whole diatribe of choice words to say to him.

Quinn doesn’t see the fury on her face, mistaking her scoff as shocked laughter, and she curls
deeper into herself, staring at her tennis shoes. “At least he gave me an hour to pack,” she lets the
corner of her mouth curl self-depreciatingly, before adding, more like an afterthought, “Russell
only gave me half that time.”

Maybe it’s the way the blonde’s eyes hold a resigned look, as if she’s accepted the fact that she’ll
never be wanted. Maybe it’s the way that she calls her father by his first name, but yet her voice
cracks a little when she says it.

Either way, Rachel’s rage at everything evaporates immediately, saved for another time, and it’s
replaced by an ache in her heart. “Oh Quinn,” she breaths out, hands itching to reach out to the head
cheerleader, to comfort her and to do something to make her look less sad.

The brunette doesn’t apologize, knowing that Quinn won’t take it well, so she settles on restraining
her tactile nature by gripping her sweater, and she continues gently, “You know I would’ve taken
you in in a heartbeat, right?”

Quinn straightens, her face a blank mask now, and Rachel knows that her time is up, that she’ll
have to slowly have the taller girl let her in one day at a time.

She almost sighs; finally getting a look into Quinn’s mind was all she’s wanted since freshman
year, but now that she’s had a real glimpse of it, she’s starting to realize that it’s not all she had
chalked it up to be.

Rachel had known that it would never be sunshine and rainbows under that cold and jagged
exterior, but before, she had selfishly wanted to be the one who had saved Quinn Fabray, like it
was some kind of revered title.

Now, she’s beginning to think that she wants to care for the girl instead. Quinn doesn’t need
saving, but Rachel still wants to give her a hand, because the blonde matters, and she doesn’t have
to do it alone all the time.

The singer tries to convey that message into her gaze, pouring her heart into her emotions, and it
seems to work, to her great delight.

There’s a determined shift to Quinn’s eyes, and Rachel realizes that the cheerleader is trying to let
her walls down, to let the brunette see.

Her heart lifts in a pleasant flutter, and warmth spreads to her entire body.

Is this what it feels like? To be possibly cherished by Quinn Fabray?

She feels floaty, as if she’s walking on air, and it warms her heart that Quinn deems her important
enough to do this.

This isn’t the result of Rachel’s hard work of coaxing the Cheerio’s defenses down. This is simply
the result of Quinn trying, with the diva just giving little pushes of encouragement along the way.

Rachel knows that she won’t be able to crack the blonde in a few weeks, or even months, but she’ll
keep trying. Quinn is beautiful and extraordinary and worth it, so she’ll keep trying until one day,
the blonde is able to share a part of her little world with her.

And if she gets the benefit of scoring Quinn as a friend, or dare she say it, best friend, then that’s
even better.

The taller girl seems to struggle at figuring out what to say, until she gingerly takes Rachel’s hand
into her own and rubbing her thumb over the tanned skin. “I go to therapy,” she admits, “I won’t
say that I’m fine – who is, honestly – but I’m…coming to terms with my issues, and Judy- Mom,
she’s…she’s really trying to make us an actual family.”

It’s clear that Quinn’s done for now though, as Rachel can feel the blonde’s hand slightly shaking
in hers, but it’s more than she would’ve ever imagined getting, so the brunette exhales a light
breath and shoots a proud smile at the Cheerio. “I’m glad,” she says and leaves it at that, before her
smile turns bashful. “Quinn, if your offer still stands, I’d- I’d very much like it if you would tutor
me.”

“Sure,” the blonde shakily replies, and her lips quirk up in a returning small but real smile. “I’ll
drive us after Glee. See you tomorrow, Berry.”

When Quinn pulls away to shoulder her bag and leave, Rachel can’t quite deny the feeling of loss
at the soft and weighty hand gone too soon.

She doesn’t know what to make of that.

 I. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where Rach goes to Q's place to hang out and pure, unadulterated fluff
happens.

Chapter Notes

Lol I really should just stick to my update schedule (it’s still every Sunday btw), but
between Lea’s tweet about Unpretty/Pretty being her favorite mashup and Dianna
following her again, my Faberry heart is beating with a fucking passion and so, here’s
a chapter early, enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Friday either comes way too soon, or not soon enough.

Rachel always ends up switching back and forth between the two, and she’s been frantically
making PowerPoints left and right about the pros and cons of the situation.

Sometimes it depends on what looks she got in the hallway that day.

If a jock or Cheerio walked pass her with a sneer, it’d be the former.

But then, Quinn would smile her secret smile at her, and it’d be the latter.

At the end of the day though, her list would just look like this:

PRO: Quinn

CON: Quinn

She’d inevitably cross out the con before she goes to bed, because really, Quinn.

It’s probably concerning how much of her life that can be discerned from that one syllable.

Eh, no one gives a fuck.

Oh wait, Rachel thinks, God probably would.

Huh.

Sorry, Jesus…but not really.

And as luck would have it, there’s no Cheerio practice after school on Friday, since it’s ‘Jean’s
day’ for Sylvester, whatever that means.

Rachel has yet to decide if it’s good luck or bad.

With her heart beating way too quickly, she organizes her locker for the millionth time while
reciting Barbra monologues to keep her mind occupied, hands shuffling around with nervous
energy as she chants under her breath almost religiously.

“You okay there Superstar?”

The familiar husky alto comes out of nowhere, and Rachel jumps, her hand hitting the corner of her
locker door in the process, drawing out a pained yelp. “Quinn!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the blonde apologetically smiles, “You okay?”

“Yup!” Rachel laughs anxiously, other hand rubbing the pink skin to nurse it. “Perfectly fine, a-
okay, just great!”

“Need me to kiss it better?” Quinn smirks, voice dipping an octave while quirking her signature
eyebrow, and combined with the nickname the head cheerleader had called her before, Rachel
blushes furiously hard, holding her bag to her chest like a lifeline.

Thankfully, the taller girl takes pity on her, asking her if she’s ready to go instead of teasing her
more, and when Rachel stumbles her way through her confirmation, Quinn grins, bright and wide,
and takes her hand to lead them out of the school.

Rachel doesn’t know which is more ground-stopping: Quinn’s full-teeth smile or the fact that the
blonde’s willing holding the school loser’s hand.

She decides that it’s the former when no one in the halls pay attention to their linked fingers, rather
focusing on Quinn’s smile in all its electrifying entirety.

Really, who can blame them?

Quinn’s smile is full-blown, stretching across the porcelain expanse of her entire face, and the
girl’s always been drop-dead gorgeous, no one can contest that, but she looks borderline divine
when she’s smiling, lighting up the hallway with its radiance.

Rachel’s pretty sure she hears someone faint at the sight, but there’s a chance that it’s her own
heartbeat cutting off at the utterly striking visual, tugging at her heartstrings.

Everyone, and she means everyone, boys and girls alike, is staring at the Ice Queen of Mcki- no,
she thinks.

They’re staring at Quinn, the real Quinn, and no one is halfway prepared for it.

The blonde doesn’t seem to care though, just staring at her and Rachel’s interlocked hands as she
walks them out to the parking lot, the singer trailing along and content to breathe in Quinn’s smile
for as long as the cheerleader allows her to.

The voice in her head tells her that there’s most likely something to be learnt from by the
implications of Quinn’s actions, but Rachel can’t concentrate or focus on anything at the moment,
too taken by the blonde’s blinding beam.

It’s only till they reach the taller girl’s car and Quinn lets go of her hand, ear to ear grin easing into
a lingering upturn of her lips that Rachel remembers her surroundings, only to be filled with fuzzy
delight as she thanks the Cheerio for opening the car door for her.

Quinn’s complete one-eighty has her a little bit afraid that this is all just a dream, because there has
to be a catch somewhere, but for now, she’ll just let herself go with the flow and see where it takes
her.

The blonde puts on a CD, and to Rachel’s pleasure, she learns that Quinn is an avid fan of
Songheim’s work. The diva analyzes the chords and melody for the blonde while Quinn explains
the lyrical techniques used, and it doesn’t take long for Rachel to grasp that the head Cheerio holds
a passion for literature, eyes shining in a way that makes the brunette’s heart skip a few beats.

She pockets that little piece of information for later use, and she sings along to the songs with
Quinn laughing.

She wonders when was the last time she felt this free.

X-X-X-X-X

When they reach the Fabray mansion, Rachel’s jaw drops.

She had known that the Fabrays were loaded, but not this much.

The house has to be one of the biggest in Lima, and the neighborhood it resides in is without a
doubt the wealthiest, beautiful trees and garden spaces filling in the spaces.

Quinn sees her look and must mistake it as something else, because she grimaces. “Yeah, I know,
it looks even more like a mausoleum from the inside,” she sighs, before unlocking the door with
fucking fingerprint technology. “Mom’s been trying to make it homier or whatever, but…it’s hard,
adapting to a time where Russell wasn’t oppressing us all.”

Rachel’s pleasantly surprised by how much easier it seems for Quinn to speak about it compared to
only a few days ago, and the blonde notices, explaining with a shrug as she leads them through the
living room, “The shrink forced me to talk about it.”

“Your house is lovely, Quinn,” Rachel compliments, because it is, just maybe more in the
traditional way.

The taller girl snorts, somehow managing to make that sound graceful too. “It’s okay Berry, you
can be honest and say that it’s a lifeless piece of dead real estate. Hell, I even encourage it.”

“Well, it is kinda bleak with its color scheme,” the diva admits sheepishly, smiling at Quinn’s
proud there ya go look. “But I’m sure with the right amount of dedication, you and your mom and
fix that right up.”

They walk up the stairs to Quinn’s room, and the honor-roll student stops at the doorway, before
asking in an almost-shy tone, “Will you come and help?”

Rachel’s heart skips a few beats, and she feels a warm rush course through her body. “Quinn, I’m
sure that you already know this about me,” she smiles, “But all you have to do is ask, really, and
I’ll be there.”

The taller girl sucks in a breath at her response, releasing it slowly, and Quinn lets a small smile
rest on her face. “You’re something, Rachel Berry.”
Rachel simply beams at the blonde as they enter Quinn’s room.

The walls are painted a light blue color, with a queen-sized bed in the middle. There’s a three-piece
mirror makeup station, a closet, and a study desk to the right, and a shelf filled to the brim with
books covering almost the entirety of the left wall, just leaving some space for a door to a
bathroom.

Everything is in pristine condition, neatly feathered and dusted, and if it weren’t for the stack of
journals put messily on the study desk, Rachel would’ve thought the room to be brand new.

Nervously shuffling her weight between her feet, she stands at the doorway anxiously, not sure if
she’s allowed to go in or not.

Quinn notices, and the blonde directs her to dump her bag in the corner, plopping down on her bed
and spreading her limbs out like a starfish, causing Rachel to giggle, and the singer’s unease
dissipates.

“It’s kinda boring, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s grown on me, I guess,” the taller girl says as
she gets up, stretching with a groan.

Rachel’s traitorous eyes follow the smooth creamy sight of Quinn’s neck, and feeling a pool of heat
gathering in her lower stomach at the sight, her thighs unconsciously clench together tightly in an
attempt to contain her desires.

Dammit bisexuality, it’s fine if you don’t have straight thoughts, but having not-straight thoughts
for Quinn Fabray, the most unattainable girl in Lima?

Oh, she’s so fucked over.

So completely and royally fucked over.

If Quinn notices her plight from her spot now at the desk, she doesn’t say anything, and instead,
she expectantly pats the seat next to her while quickly moving the stack of journals out of the way,
getting her notes out.

Rachel’s very tempted to ask about the clearly important journals, and she probably would have if
she was in this position last year, but she isn’t, she’s grown and changed for the better, and that’s
precisely why she doesn’t give in to her strong urge to snoop.

Quinn follows her line of sight, and when the Cheerio sees that Rachel won’t pry, she shoots her a
grateful glance, biting her lip, and the brunette knows that she did well.

“I’ll tell you about them one day,” the taller girl promises.

Rachel’s breath catches. “Really?”

“I meant what I said Rach,” Quinn answers, meeting her eyes. “I’m finally trying to just be myself,
and the first step in that plan is to become friends with you.” Her voice slowly drifts off, before she
adds timidly, “Well…if you’d still have me.”

A few things happen at once.

Most of them contain Rachel’s body functions failing.

And there’s also her Bisexuality alter ago screaming at her about…something. It’s probably
important and imperative that she listen, but she’s too struck by Quinn’s utter sincerity, eyes
expressive.

So yeah, Rachel Bi-rry can go suck it.

Mouth dry, she swallows, throat bobbing tightly. A small part of her wants dearly to ask what the
next steps of the blonde’s plan are, the part of her that’s either masochistic or hopeful, she can’t
decide yet, but all she can get out is an awed, “Quinn…”

The girl, fortunately, doesn’t take offence to her lack of response, even offering a small smile, and
she drags the diva down to her seat. “Come on, I didn’t invite you over to slack off, Berry. Now tell
me where your ass sucks at calc, and I’ll try my best to put something other than Streisand or
thesauruses in your brain.”

Rachel blushes, a little bit embarrassed at her predicament at math – she’s a natural born-and-bred
singer, not a mathematician, for god’s sake!

She’s a little worried that Quinn will laugh at her and mock her, fears of the old HBIC coming
back out rushing to the forefront of her mind, but the head cheerleader simply waits for her answer
unwearyingly, and that gives her enough courage to push through.

It really isn’t surprising that Quinn’s a good tutor, what with her affinity for basically everything,
but it still startles Rachel a tiny bit at exactly how good she is.

Quinn is always patient when she doesn’t understand something, and the blonde doesn’t treat or
speak to her condescendingly, even giving words of encouragement every once in a while.

The notes that the other girl had kept from middle-school are well-organized and much better than
the ones her teacher had gave her, shorter too, and Rachel has a hard-time believing that Quinn had
made these notes years ago.

She inwardly sighs – why do some people have all the good genes?

Pretty soon, two hours have passed and Rachel can safely say that she’ll probably score at least an
A on the next quiz, though she’ll definitely need to ask if Quinn’s willing to help her again, the
honor-roll student having successfully taught her more in a few hours than her teacher had in a
week.

(And she maybe, probably, really wants to spend more time with Quinn, and this would be an
adequate excuse, though she should think of sort of payment for the blonde; her patented cookies
didn’t seem like enough, and if that payment could entail or result in them hanging out more, then
all the better.)

She’s still in her PowerPoint mindset when her stomach growls, and she flushes at Quinn’s amused
quirk of lips. The taller girl offers, “Wanna order take-out and watch a movie or two? I’d cook, but
mom used all the ingredients yesterday and I didn’t have enough time to refill.”

“You cook?” Rachel asks after agreeing, trying to block out the domestic picture of the cheerleader
doing just that, brain already short-circuiting because oh fuck Quinn Fabray just asked me to eat
dinner and watch movies with her is this what pure bliss is I’mdyinghelp- actually no, death
wouldn’t be so bad if she gets Quinn as company, even if she could never hear Barbra’s amazing
voice again.

“I’d show you sometime if you’d like,” Quinn cuts into her thoughts, getting up to grab some
clothes. Throwing a T-shirt and shorts towards the brunette before disappearing into her own
bathroom, she directs, “On the other side of the hall, second door to the right.”

When Rachel looks into the mirror five minutes later, she’s still afraid to come out of the guest
restroom.

First of all, she’s fucking wearing Quinn Fabray’s clothes whatthefuck and second of all, it’s
slightly oversized, and the little insecure part of her is irrationally frightened that she looks like a
dwarf, loudly proclaiming that she’s going to get a Slushie to the face as soon as she leaves the
restroom.

“You okay in there?” Quinn’s voice rings out, causing her to jerk sideways.

She yells back an affirmative, drawing on her acting prowess so that she doesn’t sound shaky and
scared, and she mumbles to herself, “Get it together, Rachel. Quinn’s been nothing but nice and
accommodating the entire time you’ve been here, so go out there before she thinks you to be a
bigger weirdo than you already are.”

She exhales a breath she doesn’t know that she’s been holding, and way too dramatically, slowly
turns the door handle to be met with a sight that almost gives her whiplash.

If she thought Quinn Fabray in her Cheerio’s uniform looked stunning, then Quinn in casual attire
with her hair let down is ethereal, relaxed and free in a way that makes the diva’s heart quicken
and chest expand with flutters.

“You look good in my clothes,” the blonde notes with a look in her eye that Rachel can’t quite
decipher, and the singer thinks that she only imagines Quinn’s gaze lingering on her legs, but she
still blushes, dipping her head bashfully.

Brushing a stray hair back into place behind her ear, the singer follows the other girl down to the
living room, throw pillows and blankets already set up on the couch. “So, what are we watching?”

“You’ll see.” Quinn’s answering smirk causes some uneasy to settle in Rachel’s stomach, and she
berates herself for not trusting the blonde more, forcing herself to relax on the couch. Quinn turns
on the TV and adds, “Oh, and I’ve ordered already. Thai, if that’s okay, and vegan for you of
course.”

That little gesture of thoughtfulness has Rachel’s breath lifting, warmth erupting from her chest to
the very soles of her feet, and her stomach flutters with butterflies.

It’s utterly crushed by what she sees on screen.

The menu screen of Pet Sematary staring back at her, she lets out an already-terrified whimper, and
Quinn laughs, “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Quinn, I can’t deal with horror movies!” Rachel squeaks, curling into the couch.

“I’ll let you pick the next movie, and you can crush my hand or hide in my neck or whatever,” the
honor-roll student bargains, “Please Rae?”

The brunette knows that she’s giving in the second she hears that she gets to touch Quinn (okay
that didn’t sound creepy and pathetic at all), and she completely on-board when she hears the
blonde call her Rae.

Not Rach, like everyone else does, but Rae.

It’s just a simple abbreviation of her name, but the fact that only Quinn claims the right to that
name makes her feel special, like she’s important enough that the cheerleader deems to call her
something that only she will, and her chest flutters, light and airy.

She nods her assent, and warns as she moves closer to the other girl, “Just so you know, I’m even
more touchy-feely when I’m scared, so don’t kill me if I end up on your lap.”

Quinn mumbles something under her breath, sounding suspiciously like “I’m counting on it”, but
the singer dismisses the silly notion immediately, because – really Rachel?

Turns out, she does end up on the taller girl’s lap, not even half an hour in the movie, face
completely hidden in Quinn’s pale shoulder and wincing every time she hears a resounding
scream, jerking in place.

“I hate you I hate you I hate you,” she chants religiously in an attempt to block out the sickening
sounds, “There is nothing good about this at all and I hope it haunts you in your sleep.”

Quinn chuckles, shifting on the couch to better accommodate the petite brunette, and Rachel is
reminded that yes, there is something good to come out of this.

Mainly, the way that Quinn’s body presses deliciously into her own, curves meeting in all the right
places, and how the head Cheerio’s hands are drifting up and down Rachel’s back in an attempt to
soothe her nerves.

When the doorbell rings, she screeches and clings onto the blonde, arms wrapped around her waist
tightly, and Quinn laughs, hand coming up to run through the shorter girl’s brown tresses. “I gotta
go get dinner, Rae.”

She shakes her head, “I’m going with you. They’re going to get me if you leave, I don’t care.”

“Well you’re just being a tad dramatic,” Quinn smiles as she gets up with Rachel practically
molded into her side. “We can switch the movie if you really want to.”

“Please,” the shorter girl practically begs.

Which is why ten minutes later, they’re watching Inside Out.

She would’ve gone with Funny Girl, but she figured she needed the happiness of a Pixar movie, so
she’s now curled up next to Quinn eating Pad Thai.

Feeling giddy that the Cheerio hadn’t said a thing when she continued to cuddle up to her, she
chipperly munches on her food and ignores the voice in her head telling her that she’s totally going
beyond her tactile nature in her actions, but Quinn is just too soft and comfortable for her to let go.

The taller girl hasn’t told her to, in Finn’s words, stop being so clingy, so she rationalizes that this
must be how female friendships work, and that it’s perfectly fine for her to move even closer.

Quinn doesn’t seem to care, and Rachel’s very much starved for human contact and affection now
that she’s single, so she decides that she’ll take what she gets, Quinn’s arms around her feeling
warm and soft.

They’re around the part that Joy and Sadness go missing when the thought that watching movies
with Quinn is completely different from watching them with Finn occurs to her.

Finn would always talk throughout a movie, not paying much attention if it’s not something about
zombies or the like, causing Rachel to lose interest in the movie as she can’t really follow along,
and even if he wouldn’t get bored and try to talk to her, their silence would almost never be
comfortable, and the diva would feel the urge to fill the eerie quiet, only to be even more frustrated
when the giant boy couldn’t carry the conversation other than talking about Call of Duty, leaving
her grasping for something to talk about desperately.

It’s nothing like that with Quinn.

The blonde would sardonically comment on the movie’s ‘movie logic’, laughing about it for a
moment before moving on, their silence like a warm safety blanket, and when they take little
breaks from the movie to get snacks, conversation always flows easily between them, coming to
them like second nature.

Rachel really should delve deeper into why this, whatever they’re doing, is so easy and light, their
bantering beats in a perfect rhythm like they’ve been doing this for years, but the air around them is
entirely too comfortable, causing a fuzzy warmth to envelop the brunette’s head, and she supposes
that she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Somewhere between the next hour, she starts to drift off into slumber – Quinn feels really good,
okay – and when she wakes to see blonde locks, she furrows her brow, not quite remembering why
she’s there.

Then as she nuzzles closer against the soft surface her head is pressed against, she realizes her head
is on Quinn’s chest – or if she were to put it less eloquently, her boobs – and in her panic, she ends
up falling onto the floor, back hitting the thankfully carpeted floor.

She groans in pain, and the girl she was just sleeping on laughs lightly, “You alright there?”

“Perfectly fine,” Rachel embarrassedly calls from her spot on the floor, red from the neck up and
hoping that the other girl hadn’t noticed her totally inappropriate coping of a feel, and when Quinn
gets up to stretch with a grunt, the diva sheepishly cringes, heart still thumping in overdrive mode.
“Sorry for cutting off your blood circulation.”

“’S okay,” the honor-roll student sleepily yawns, before checking her phone for the time. “Jesus,
it’s ten already…Do you wanna call your one of your dads to pick you up?”

“Their car is being repaired until Wednesday, but I can just walk home, it’s just a few blocks,”
Rachel answers, already grabbing her clothes from the loveseat.

Quinn frowns, before reaching for her Cheerio’s jacket. “No way, I’m driving you home.”

“It’s fine Quinn, you’ve already done me a huge favor by tutoring me today, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it,” the cheerleader cuts her off, “I’m driving you home, it’s a weekend
anyway.”

Touched since Finn would never drive her home late during their short time together, she sends
Quinn a tired but beaming smile, and the one she gets in return sends her head reeling, pleasantly
airy.

When they’re changed and ready to go, she’s not prepared for the cold gust of wind hitting her
skin, and she shivers.

Quinn notices, and without a word, she takes off her Cheerio jacket to help Rachel in it, and the
brunette can’t help the bashful upturn of her lips. “Thank you.”
The blonde shrugs, a gleam appearing in her eyes. “I like you in my clothes.”

Rachel Bi-rry comes to voices out her concerns, but really, Quinn’s being all thoughtful and sweet,
so she can just go fuck herself.

(She ferociously rejects the notion that she’ll probably do just that later. That would be
inappropriate and highly irrespective, and she’d not be able to look Quinn in the eye for like, a
century.)

They make idle chatter on the trip home, and she feels an odd sense of loss as she nears the Berry
home, afraid that today was just all a dream and that she’ll go back to school tomorrow only to be
met with a face full of Slushie.

She starts to dread the moment when this inevitably ends, and she tries to will the car to move
slower, but it’s to no avail, and they reach the Berry driveway quickly, making her quietly sigh
against the chilled September air.

Quinn gets out of the car first to open the door for her, the display of chivalrousness causing a light
blush on the brunette’s face, and the honor-roll student walks her to her door. “I really liked
hanging out with you today,” the blonde softly says, sporting a mysterious smile that made it seem
like she was admitting something. “We could make it a weekly thing, if you want. Tutoring you is
so much more fun than trying to pry Santana and Brittany away from each other, and…I could
drive you to school and back home when your dads’ car is being prepared?”

Rachel gives herself an adequate time for processing of three seconds, and when can’t think of
anything to say that can adequately convey what she wants, she settles for hugging the blonde
fiercely, temporarily letting go of her fear of rejection as she crashes into safe and strong arms.

Quinn’s toned arms envelop her body tightly, and the brunette thinks that she probably shouldn’t
linger too long, but it’s just too warm and comfortable, so she settles for holding on for as long as
Quinn will allow, breathing in the blonde’s scent with contentment.

She thinks that at this rate, she’ll probably fall asleep again, surrounded by the cheerleader’s
calming embrace, but then said cheerleader nudges her gently. “Just for clarification, that’s two
yeses, right?”

Finding it in herself to pull away, if only slightly, Rachel is unable to keep the smile off her face,
whispering in awe, “I can’t believe Quinn Fabray is a dork.”

“Don’t go ruining my rep, Rae,” the taller girl laughs, before gently pushing her towards the door.
“Now go sleep, I’ll text you when I get home or whatever.”

Shocked that the blonde even knows her number, Rachel can only stare at her in bewilderment, and
Quinn smiles, full and genuine. “Go to bed, Berry, or I’ll sic Santana on you.”

The diva mock-gasps scandalously, but then the moment dies down, and she feels the same sense
of loss from before rush through her, as if this goodbye is meaning goodbye forever, the ever-
looming fear of this just being a dream hanging over her head. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

But when she watches the honor-roll student’s car drive away, she’s still wearing Quinn’s Cheerio
jacket, and Rachel can still smell the scent of vanilla and mango on it.

It’s proof that today wasn’t a figment of her imagination, and she smiles.
Chapter End Notes

My friend thinks that the idea of Bi-rry is kinda creepy, but idk, I have so many jokes
written based on that and it's kind of a running gag now in my already written chapters,
so thoughts?
 II. Part I
Chapter Summary

The one where Karofsky and Azimio are idiots and we're here to reap the Faberry
benefits ;)

II.

Quinn does text her when the blonde gets back home, and on Saturday, Rachel tries her best to
keep off her phone, afraid that she’ll get too clingy and attached, but the second Quinn texts her
again, they end up texting for hours, and all through Sunday too, their banter still coming to Rachel
as one of the easiest things in her life.

They’d send each other cute cat pictures or memes or just anything, talking about everything from
which Harry Potter house they’d be in – Rachel in Slytherin and Quinn in Ravenclaw – to talking
about whatever annoying thing that their teacher did that they.

In none of their calls or texts did her fear of this just turning out to be a prank subside though,
always lurking somewhere in the back of her brain, but even though Quinn’s thoughtful little
goodnight texts and the like calms her raging insecurities somewhat, when Monday morning hits
and she wakes at exactly 5:45 a.m. to Quinn’s text, she has a moment of terror, brain telling her that
she’ll see something akin to Ha manhands, why would you think that I’d ever want to be friends
with a tranny like you?

She almost wants to ignore the text completely, but she knows that her curiosity will get the best
for her, so she picks up her phone dramatically, and opens the text, peeking though one eye as if
that would change anything.

Quinn: Morning Rae, I’ll pick you up at like 6:20, since I have Cheerio’s at 6:45. Is that okay?

Rachel releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding and promptly feels silly, shooting back a
reply with a sheepish smile.

Rachel: That’s fine with me, thank you. I can work on extra-credit on the bleachers.

A brief moment of panic seizes her, because what if Quinn doesn’t want to be seen with her, but
then she realizes that the blonde wouldn’t have asked otherwise, and she breathes a sigh.

At this rate, she’s going to grow gray hair very prematurely, between her internal freak-outs and
Quinn’s heart-stopping smiles and gestures.

Quinn: Sounds great, see you there.

Rachel smiles at the text, and she forces herself out of bed to freshen up and change into a sports
bra so she can go onto her elliptical – socializing is no excuse for tardiness.

Another thing she especially lov- likes about Quinn is that the Cheerio would avoid using text-
speak with her since she knows that Rachel hates it, and it’s definitely a welcome departure from
Finn’s horrendous text-messages, where she wouldn’t feel the immense urge to bleach her eyes.

And she’ll probably never admit it lest she be called a creep, but the fact that Quinn’s changing her
entire form of text communication just for her has her giddy and fuzzy, a bubbling warmth bursting
in her chest like fireworks.

Occupying herself with thoughts of how caring and considerate Quinn is, pretty soon, she’s
dressed, eaten, and ready to go, and as she looks into the mirror with Quinn’s Cheerio letterman in
hand, she feels the urge to wear it, the scent of vanilla drawing her in, but there’s no way the
blonde would want her – the school loser – wearing it, so she puts it in her bag so she can return it
later, unable to stop the fleeting disappointment that comes up, like she actually wants people to
know that she’s Quinn’s.

Friend. Quinn’s friend.

There’s a little voice in her head snorting at that, probably her alter ego representing her
bisexuality, but she wants to stay in denial-land a bit longer, so she pushes it back into her mind
with a shake of her head.

When it’s around 6:20, she expects a horn-toot to tell her when Quinn’s there, like when Finn
would drive her, but she’s pleasantly surprised when she gets a rung doorbell instead, and she
happily chirps as she opens the door, “Good morning, Quinn!”

The other girl sleepily returns the greeting, an adorable crinkle in her face as the sun shines down
particularly bright at them, and Rachel giggles at Quinn’s lack of enthusiasm for the early hours of
daylight, yet another thing that she really shouldn’t find as endearing as it is.

As they get into the car – Rachel making sure to beat the other girl to opening the car-door for the
other, not one to be outdone – Quinn asks off-handedly, “Why aren’t you wearing my jacket?”

“I thought that you wouldn’t want me to wear it,” Rachel shrugs, trying to keep the uncomfortable
tilt to her voice at bay. “I’m, well, me, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want the school to see me in
your letterman.”

The blonde frowns, and she looks as if she wants to say something, but at the last moment, she
shakes her head and puts on another CD instead, reversing out of the driveway.

Rachel feels a pang of disappointment hit her heart, but she shrugs it off – this is what she expected
anyway. Quinn hasn’t asked for the jacket back either, and at the risk of sounding like a stalker,
Rachel really likes the smell of it, so until the cheerleader asks for it back, she’s hanging onto the
thing like it’s a Funny Girl playbill, signed by Barbra Streisand herself.

They get to school quickly, and she feels her heart start to beat quicker at the thought that she’ll be
walking into school with Quinn Fabray, but thankfully, most of the Cheerios aren’t there yet, so
she settles onto the bleachers without much hassle, taking her extra-credit work out of her bag
methodically to complete.

Soon enough, Quinn is leading cheerleading practice with fervor after finishing her stretches, a
wide white smile in place as she stands on top of the pyramid, doing a front-flip down.

As she watches the Cheerios undergo an insane training regimen, doing push-ups and hand-springs,
Rachel doesn’t know whether to be scared from; how dangerous this is, how crazy Sylvester is for
making them do it, or how Quinn’s skirt flies up delectably.
It’s probably all three, but damn, the way the head cheerleader’s legs flex as she runs laps around
the other girls is downright sinful, and when Rachel looks down at her math work a few minutes
later, a bunch of swirly lines greet her, and – is that drool?

This is how the next hour comes and goes, with her eyes glued to Quinn’s lithe form and
completely unable to finish her extra-assignments, too enamored with the blonde’s backside to have
a coherent thought.

She winces as she sees numerous girls puke and collapse after their practice is over, and as the
others head to the showers, she thanks god that she had the sense to stay far away from Sue
Sylvester and her bullhorn.

No wonder most of the Cheerios are so bitchy; Rachel would be too if she had to suffer through
two of those practices almost every day. Seriously, why would anyone put themselves through that
just for popularity?

But then again, this is high school, where popularity is everything, and she did chase after Finn
blindly in an attempt for it, so she can’t really judge.

Quinn had agreed to meet her at the brunette’s locker after the cheerleader had finished showering,
so she’s now currently rummaging for her books and trying her best to expel the tantalizing images
of Quinn’s legs from her mind, reaching for textbooks that she probably doesn’t even have to use.

Until at the corner of her eye, she spots Karofsky and Azimio heading towards her with smirks and
Slushies in hand.

Her heart drops, and a thousand thoughts rush to the forefront of her mind, none particularly good,
and most of them nauseating.

Did Quinn plan and orchestrate this the whole time, her ultimate masterplan of humiliation? To
give her a few days of unadulterated bliss, to let her feel what happiness is, and then take it all
away in one fell swoop?

Rachel feels her eyes start to sting, but she refuses to cry. They don’t get to have that satisfaction.

As they walk even closer and closer, she exhales and accepts her fate – at least the time she got to
spend with Quinn is in her opinion, one of the highlights of her short life, sad as that may sound,
and even though the blonde will probably never talk to her again, she’ll have those memories with
her.

“You’ve been spending an awful amount with Mckinley’s Queen,” Azimio starts, smiling
crookedly, and it just makes Rachel’s stomach turn even more, bottoming out revoltingly.

“So,” Karofsky continues, the same taunting sneer on his face. “We’ve decided to teach you a
lesson.” He raises his Slushie cup with a sardonic grin. “Because losers like you don’t get to mingle
with royalty.”

The words don’t hurt as much as she thinks they should, because really, it’s true, and she hopes
that they’ll make it quick, eyes already closing shut on reflex as her arms hug her books tightly to
her chest in an attempt to save them, and she waits.

It never comes.

There are a few furiously loud steps ringing out from behind her, and then there’s the sound of
Slushies being splashed, and then the shocked gasps of onlookers.
When a few seconds pass and Rachel doesn’t feel the cold sting of Slushy burning her, she
tentatively opens her eyes, and her jaw gapes open at the sight that awaits her.

Quinn, with her hands at her hips in HBIC-mode and scowling murderously, and Karofsky and
Azimio, covered from head to toe in Slushy.

“Wh-What?” the singer shakily questions, brain not quite processing the imagery that’s its being
shown, and she looks to Quinn with wide eyes.

“Hold on Rae,” the head cheerleader moves in front of her to block her off from the two jocks, jaw
set in a hard line. “I’m handling this.”

Rachel can only see one side of the blonde’s face from her position, but the absolute fury she sees
on Quinn’s face is clear, and the diva feels bad immediately.

She had actually thought that Quinn betrayed her.

But the honor-roll student hadn’t.

She had saved her.

Rachel doesn’t know how Quinn had managed to overturn the Slushies, but she has to admit, the
looks on Karofsky and Azimio’s faces are priceless, looking flabbergasted and embarrassed, their
red faces barely able to be made out from the cherry Slushy that they’re adorning.

“Quinn!” Karofsky angrily snarls, “What the fuck? We were just teaching Berry a lesson for you!”

“Yeah,” Azimio hurries to follow his teammate’s lead, “We’d thought that you’d like it!”

Quinn growls, low and threatening, and the two boys glance at each other with poorly-concealed
nervousness as the air shifts into a stifling tranquil. “So boys,” Quinn smiles, sugary sweet. “When
did you begin to know what I think?”

At this, they seem to think that they’re off the hook, and not unlike a bobble-head figure, Azimio
nods his head like his life depends on it. (Judging by the look on Quinn’s face, it probably does.)
“You’ve always hated her, and now that she’s clinging on you because she thinks she can do better
than Hudson, so we thought that we’d scare her off for you!”

The head Cheerio narrows her eyes, and hazel pools light up with anger, before it’s channeled into
cool disinterest, and that’s when Rachel knows, for a lack of a better term, that shit’s going to go
down.

The diva barely registers the presence of Santana and Brittany on the scene, standing to the side
with the former scowling and rolling her eyes while the latter looks on with a knowing look,
somehow akin to that of an excited puppy.

Quinn looks positively bored as she regards the two burly jocks with a light and aloof face, and
Rachel’s sixth sense starts pinging like crazy, the air buzzing and filled with a quiet dread. “Do I
look like I care?”

“B-But Quinn!” Karofsky scrambles to plead his case, “She’s-She’s just a loser, and you-”

“Like you’re not a Lima Loser yourself,” The Head Cheerio’s intense glare silences him, and an
almost sadistic smile shows on her face, HBIC posture in place and eyes hard. “So here’s what you
two are going to do. First of all, you’re going to apologize to Rachel here.”
All attention moves to her, and she hugs her books closer to her chest under the scrutiny of all the
onlookers, watching on with trepidation to see what the withering messes that are Karofsky and
Azimio will do.

“Look Berry, I’m sorry, alright?” Azimio is the first to crack under Quinn’s glower. “We-We
won’t bother you again!”

Karofsky stubbornly looks away, but when the blonde raises an threatening eyebrow at him, he
reluctantly caves in, spiting, “Fine, we’re sorry.”

Quinn, utterly unsatisfied with their answers, moves to demand more, but Rachel stops her, not
wanting to make even more of a scene even in her shock, and she gently says, “Quinn.”

The Cheerio looks as if she wants to enact more revenge on the two jocks, but the singer’s look has
her begrudgingly accepting it, and she turns back to them with her glare back in place. “And second
of all, you two are going to scurry off with your tails between your legs, and you’re never going to
come near her again, got it?”

“Crystal!” Azimio squeaks, before they both scramble off, most likely to the nearest toilet to clean
up, red-faced in shame and humiliation.

It seems almost surreal, looking at someone covered in Slushy that isn’t her, and Rachel is only
shook out of her stupor when Quinn scowls. “You should’ve let me go harder on them; they don’t
deserve your kindness.”

The singer is about to string together a response, but she’s stopped by Quinn turning to address the
entire hallway, all looking at the blonde with frightened eyes as she barks, “Listen up Lima Losers!
Rachel Berry is off limits! If any one of you even touches a hair on her head, you’ll be dealing
personally with me, got that?”

A hushed whisper befalls upon the halls at once, and Rachel knows what’s happening.

They’re all wondering why Quinn Fabray is suddenly protecting Rachel Berry, and they’re
wondering what’s going to happen now, the natural hierarchy disrupted and flipped upside down.

A few brave – or stupid – souls look as if they’re about to protest, but a glare from Santana shuts
them up quickly, and if anything, that just makes the whispers even louder, because now Santana
is defending Rachel too – has the world gone upside down?

Rachel’s line of thought is already a jumbled mess, but it becomes even more frazzled as Quinn,
still in HBIC mode, slightly demands, “Wear my letterman. No one will dare go near you if they
see you wearing my stuff.”

It’s what prompts the singer to remember her earlier thoughts, and she immediately, she’s filled
with an immense sense of shame and regret as people begin to clear out at the bell’s ring, unable to
meet Quinn’s eyes.

The head cheerleader had done so much for her, being probably the nicest person ever to her
beside from her dads, but at the first sign of trouble, Rachel had gone and blamed the blonde first,
distrusting her even though she’s been nothing but sweet and thoughtful these few days.

Her first reaction was to discredit Quinn, and in return, the honor-roll student had saved her from
the school’s two biggest bullies and put a Slushie moratorium on her, declaring her off limits.

She feels like the biggest jerk ever, and she tries to will a hole to swallow her into the ground,
looking at her Mary Janes in shame.

It’s evident that her guilt shows on her face, because the next thing she knows, Quinn’s face falls,
mask beginning to slip on as her face turns detached, deducing, “You thought that I had planned to
get you at your locker so the two dimwits could Slushy you.”

Rachel panics, and she desperately wants to assure the distraught blonde that she didn’t think that,
but she had, and the way that she can feel Quinn’s walls bursting up just adds to the piling up guilt
building up in her chest.

“I’m sorry, I really do want to trust you,” she whispers, already berating herself for the loss of this
amazing friendship – because there’s no way the blonde will want to be her friend now – and she
continues miserably, “I understand if you don’t want me to be your friend anymore.”

“What? No!” The cheerleader shakes her head firmly, as if the very idea is absurd to her, and a
sliver of hope ignites in Rachel’s chest. “No, you shouldn’t have to apologize; you haven’t done
anything wrong. I know that years of torment can’t be erased, so I’m going to try my damn hardest
to create some better memories for you instead, and I’ll hope that with time, I’ll be able to earn
your forgiveness. Really, it’s me that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

Great, now Rachel feels even more of an asshole.

Why’d Quinn have to go ahead and be even sweeter than before?

“But you’ve been such an amazing friend to me,” she expresses, “You tutored me, offered to drive
me to school, you even stopped the slushies for me and I can’t begin to-”

Santana, who’s been silently watching from the side even after Brittany had left, rolls her eyes as
she slides into their conversation, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Look lovebirds, either you finish
your monologues and get to the good stuff and fuck, or you stop eye-sexing and actually get to
class, this is getting boring fast, and I need to talk to Q.”

Rachel instantly blushes the color of a tomato, but she ignores Santana, shyly asking Quinn, “Can I
still wear your jacket?”

“It’s yours,” the blonde shrugs, though there’s also a hint of pink in her cheeks, and it makes
Rachel heart skip faster, swelling with something.

It feels like she’s being claimed, and the thought gives her a head rush. When Finn would try to tell
her to wear his jacket, it felt barbaric and like she was a possession of a whiney kid, but the way
Quinn helps her to wear it makes her feel desirable, like she belongs, and she finds that she quite
likes the idea of being Quinn’s…friend.

“So…are we okay?” she gingerly asks, playing with the hem of the letterman like she can’t quite
believe that she’s being allowed to wear it.”

Quinn smiles at her, small but bright. “We’re okay.”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, and Rachel gets the feeling that something’s happening, something
more, but of course Santana has to cut in, an impatient growl coming from the Cheerios’ second-in-
command.

“That’s it!” the Latina finally snaps, rolling her eyes as she drags Quinn away by the arm. “Imma
do things my way now, I don’t give a fuck about whatever plan Q-Tip has.”
Rachel totally doesn’t try to eavesdrop on their conversation, because that would be rude and
inappropriate.

(She very much does, and fails.)

It’s not her fault that she’s highly inquisitive, alright? She doesn’t hear much anyway, only able to
read a few words from Santana’s mouth, the conversation seemingly one-sided.

There is ‘what happened’, ‘slow’, and ‘coming on’, but other than that and some Spanish curse
words, she isn’t able to lip-read anything, and she internally scolds herself for being so nosy,
determinately looking away but still unable to resist taking a peek or two.

After a few minutes, Quinn flips Santana off, and Rachel giggles, causing their attention to float
back to her.

Narrowing her eyes, Santana mutters one last curse word under her breath, and she storms off in
the opposite direction of her class, most likely to rendezvous with Brittany in a janitor’s closet
somewhere.

“What was that about?” the shorter brunette asks once the Latina is out of earshot.

Quinn nonchalantly waves her off, saying something about ‘damage control’, before she offers,
“Want me to walk you to class?”

“But I want to,” Rachel frowns, before her brain starts to whip up a favorable plan, and she starts to
smile. “What about you walk me to class on Monday and Wednesday, I’ll walk you on Tuesday
and Thursdays, and we alternate Fridays?”

“I feel like we’re sharing custody of something, but sure,” Quinn agrees, a soft smile in place.
“Now come on, I can intimidate whatever teacher you have for first period so you won’t get told
off for being late.”

At this, Rachel pales immediately, and she starts to hurry to her class’ direction, berating, “Why
didn’t you tell me it’s this late, I’m going to lose my perfect attendance!”

Laughing, Quinn chases after her and puts a hand on her arm to get her to slow down. “Rae, it’ll be
fine; I’ve been skipping classes for years and I still have a perfect attendance since the teachers are
cowards.”

The diva slows to a halt. “Oh, then why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” she asks, before she
realizes something and her eyes narrow. “Quinn Fabray why have you been skipping classes?”

X-X-X-X-X

She’s fairly able to ignore the stares and whispers throughout the next few periods, already used to
them, and she’s heading to fourth period when an arm grabs her into an empty classroom out of
nowhere, and her scream is barely contained by Santana’s glare.

“Santana, what exactly are you doing!” she whisper-screeches, slowly creeping towards the door
and her escape as she looks upon the girl with trepidation.
The Latina rolls her eyes, moving to block her way. “Look midget, here’s how this is going to go,”
she intones, arms crossed over her chest and looking mildly uncomfortable. “You hurt Quinn, I
hurt you. You make her cry or whatever, and I tear out your vocal cords. Make her happy? Then
maybe I won’t do all of the above when you annoy me. Got me?”

At a loss at what to say – she’s pretty sure Santana Lopez had just given her version of the talk,
Rachel just nods dumbly, and if she thinks that things are already a complete one-eighty today,
she’s even more surprised (read: terrified) to see the cheerleader’s slight upturn of lips.

“Good,” Santana nods, before she bites her lip and looks away slightly, as if it’s almost painful to
say her next words. “Now since that Q’s chosen you, for a reason that I still don’t get – because
really, those legs can’t possibly be that good – that means that I’m obligated by some sort of Buffy
code to watch your back, so if someone’s giving you a hard time or whatever…I’ll beat them up for
you.”

When the words finally settle, Rachel gapes at the Latina, and now that she’s seen her soft, usually
Brittany-reserved side, she can’t resist teasing, “Aww, you do care.”

Santana scowls murderously in response, and she shakes her head. “You’re so lucky Quinn likes
you.”

At that, the shorter brunette’s breath catches and she feels her heart attempt to beat out of her chest.
“You-You mean that she likes me as a friend, right?” she asks for clarification, eyes wide.

Santana barks out a laugh. “Yeah no, I’m not getting into your L Word drama, so skedaddle hobbit,
your argyle-Cheerio jacket combo is blinding my eyes.”

Even though her slight panic, Rachel bites back a grin. “I think that that was the tamest insult
you’ve used on me since middle school.”

Narrowing her eyes again, Santana growls as she walks out the door. “I swear, do you actually
want me to hurt you?” she rolls her eyes, before pausing, “On a second thought, don’t answer that,
I don’t need to know about your kinky fetishes.”

Ah, there’s the snarky Cheerio I know, Rachel giddily thinks, but she can’t contain her grin even as
the door slams shut in her face.

Is she scared shitless of Santana’s threat? Definitely.

But is she even happier that she pretty much now has the Unholy Trinity on her side?

Hell yes, and it’s all thanks to Quinn.

She’ll probably fuss over and drive herself crazy over what Santana had implied earlier during their
conversation, but right now, she’s content to march off to class, feeling on top of the world.
 II. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where Rachel starts getting somewhere out of denial land

Chapter Notes

Shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be a 6k beast, so look out for that :)
Special thanks to all those who reviewed, and happy Pride Month, everybody!

When it finally rolls around to lunch and Rachel goes to her locker to retrieve her (berry nutritious)
vegan salad as always, she spots a note placed on the top of her books, and she instantly feels a
sense of giddiness envelop her, knowing that it has to be Quinn.

Picking up the folded note that has a sparkling gold star on top – oof, that’s her heart swooning like
crazy, help – with a languid yet enthusiastic pace that can only come out of a romantic comedy, she
opens the note with tingles through her fingers, biting down at her lip gently in nervous
anticipation.

I’m having lunch in the auditorium. Join me?

-Q

The neat and pretty sight of Quinn’s slight cursive consumes the brunette with abandon, the simple
words somehow able to cause little bursts of fireworks to rage behind her eyelids, and Rachel holds
the note to her chest as if she’s cradling it, a bashful smile appearing on her lips as she internally
does a little twirl of happiness.

The voice in her head is screaming at her to listen, but she’s too enamored by the note to even
remotely care. Quinn Fabray wants to eat lunch with her!

There’s a very noticeable skip and chipper to her step as she goes to the auditorium to meet Quinn,
and Bi-rry calls for her attention to no avail.

So much for being self-aware, Rachel feels the voice grumble in her mind, but the petite singer
ignores the definite shift in her heart that tells her this is going to end badly, because there’s no way
she’s going to unpack that today.

Or probably the next ten years or so.

All her raging thoughts cease to a halt when she catches a glimpse of Quinn as she reaches the
auditorium, the blonde sending her a smile at her arrival that has her stomach doing somersaults.
“Hey Rae.”

“Hello Quinn,” she greets back with a beaming grin of her own as she places her lunch on the chair
next to the cheerleader. “I trust the day has been better to you.”
The honor-roll student smirks, dangerous and thrilling. “Better now that you’re here.”

Her heart palpitates, and she’s unable to hide her fond smile as she complains, “I must applaud
your idea of comedy, but do you have to use such a corny line?”

“I’ll try harder to be smoother next time,” Quinn promises with a crinkle in her eyes that tells the
brunette that she’s trying hard not to laugh. “You can come feel me up to see just how smooth.”

“Quinn!” Rachel, cheeks flushed in pink, swats at the cheerleader’s arm, who’s now waggling her
eyebrows at her absurdly in an obvious imitation of Puck. “That was horrible!”

“What?” the taller girl laughs, before bringing up her arm to flex it, the muscles rippling. “There’s
no way you can look at these and not say that they’re awesome.”

Rolling her eyes and totally not resisting the strong urge to take Quinn up on her offer to touch,
Rachel forces her eyes to dart away from the taunt muscles of the blonde’s biceps, and she huffs,
hoping to distract herself. “I’ll have you know that I do not find arrogance to be appealing, Quinn
Fabray!”

“This is confidence, Berry, and don’t pretend like you don’t totally get off of it,” Quinn smirks
even wider, and Rachel feels the inferno in her lower stomach fan hotter, to an almost unbearable
degree. “What, you tired?”

“Of your lame pick-up lines?” the singer tries to sound indifferent (and most likely fails). “Yes,
very much, and I’d appreciate if you’d cease and desist this right this instant!”

Or she’ll most likely jump the blonde.

Actually, scratch that, at the rate Quinn’s hotness bar is raising like a fucking skyscraper, Rachel
will probably end up jumping her regardless, but that tidbit is swiftly ignored and
compartmentalized as Quinn continues, “Well that’s not a surprise – you’ve been running amok my
mind all day!”

Rachel groans, exaggerated and playful, and she gets out of her seat to pretend to leave, crossing
her arms over her chest and pouting.

Chuckling, Quinn grabs her by the waist and tugs down with a strength that only a Cheerio can
possess, and within a beat, Rachel is half on top of Quinn’s lap, stuck in place.

With her line of sight directly level with the girl’s chest.

Her face quickly reddens with a mortified look, and Quinn laughs lightly, breathy and amused. “Hi
there.”

Rachel desperately tries to get her throat muscles to work, but all that comes out is a few croaks
and whimpers of embarrassment as she squirms lightly – which, really isn’t making anything better
– because she’s paralyzed on Quinn Fabray’s lap, and ohmyfuck I’m paralyzed on Quinn’s lap look
at those boobs they’re-

Her brain short-circuits somewhere around lap and she practically drools at boobs, her mindset
regressing to a mix of Puck and Jacob Ben Israel in two seconds at the thought of Quinn’s…assets.

Look, it’s not her fault she can properly appreciate the female form, okay? Teenage urges and
other…things are perfectly normal, and any sane person who likes girls even a little bit can’t deny
that the honor-roll student is the epitome of every wet dream ever, so she can’t be faulted for being
hot for Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray and her perfectly arched eyebrow, and her husky voice, and her smirkity smirky
smirk, and-

She reverts to teenage-boy mode again.

“I think I broke you.” Quinn’s amused voice rings out, and Rachel jerks away and falls to the
ground, squeaking.

Only to be met with the utterly mouthwatering sight of smooth pale legs.

God is really testing her, isn’t he?

Well too bad, she’s going to hell then, because damn, look at those legs, and is she actually going
to hell, because is it just her, or is it getting hotter and hotter?

“Yeah, I broke you, didn’t I?” Quinn arches her brow.

Red from her neck, Rachel manages to croak out a horrified, “Pretty much.”

The taller girl hums her quiet laughter and grabs the diva’s hand to pull her up, making Rachel heat
up even more at the contact. “Eat your boring salad food, Berry.”

Maybe if this were a few days ago, she would’ve taken it as an insult, but she feels relaxed instead
now, as if she’s been friends with Quinn for ages, and still red in the face, she’s comfortable in
bantering back, “Better than your pig corpse, at least.”

The blonde mock-glares at her, pulling out a wrapped sandwich as she huffs, “And to think that I
made a vegan sandwich just for you! Really, I should just stuff it with real bacon instead and eat it
myself, you-”

Rachel makes a grab for the sandwich, gets tripped over, and ends up in Quinn’s lap again.

This is going to be a loooong lunch.

X-X-X-X-X

“Wait, Quinn Fabray did what?”

“Shhhh,” Rachel frantically shushes Kurt, looking around their sixth period classroom anxiously.

“Don’t hush me, woman!” Rolling his eyes, Kurt’s eyes gleam eagerly in his typical gossip queen
fashion, and he leans in closer with a hungry scheming look. “First she defends you against
Karofsky, and now she’s saved up the best seats for tomorrow’s football game just for you to
watch her cheer? I just need to hear all the juicy deets!”

Somewhat reluctantly, Rachel gives in, and she spills all that’s happened since school started, and
the boy seems to get more and more interested with every detail revealed, almost bouncing with
excitement by the end when Rachel finishes.

“This is like watching a teen drama unfold right before my eyes,” he practically squeals as his face
dawns with a realization. “Quinn Fabray makes so much more sense now.”

“What?” Rachel asks, brow furrowed as she tries to work out what Kurt’s saying.

If anything, Quinn’s so much more baffling these days, and when Kurt sees that she’s genuinely
confused, he shakes his head in disbelief, “Oh you poor baby.”

“No seriously, what?” the brunette repeats in confusion, the words coming out more like a whine
this time.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to figure this one out yourself, Rach,” Kurt offers her a sympathetic smile as
he changes gears, “So are you going or not?”

“Of course I am, it’s just that, well…” she trails off, a small blush making its way across her neck.
“Quinn said she saved two seats, and I’m kind of afraid to go to a football game alone, so-”

“You want me to be your fairy godfather,” the boy sitting next to her deduces.

Rachel smiles sheepishly as she bargains, “There’s going to be lots of sweaty boys running
around.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, but that does make it sound even better,” Kurt chuckles, before he
lets his face set in a more serious manner. “Promise me you’ll look out for yourself. Not like when
you let my moronic soon-to-be step-brother step all over you.”

The petite singer swallows, throat suddenly dry, “I don’t understand, what-”

“Just…don’t let your heart overrule your head, Rachel,” Kurt evenly says. “You have a…tendency
to feel too much too fast.”

“Isn’t that what love is supposed feel like?”

“Wait, you’re in love with Quinn Fabray?” the flamboyant countertenor gapes at her, and she goes
red in the face immediately.

“N-No, I’m not!” Rachel splutters in response, “I was just referring to love as how I believed it to
be, and-”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt evidently decides to switch tactics, and rephrases, “So do you like her?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” the diva puzzles. “She’s kind, sweet, thoughtful, and the most wonderful friend
to me – I’m sorry Kurt, but she made me a four-layered vegan sandwich with vegan bacon! Vegan
bacon, Kurt!”

The pompous boy, for his part, only looks upon her with an expression akin to amused fondness,
though Rachel’s still faintly reminded of a bird with ruffled feathers. “While I’m a bit miffed that
I’ve apparently been replaced, and due to a pretend-pig no less, that’s not what I meant,” he
clarifies. “I meant to ask if you like like her, in a more than platonic way.”

Rachel feels her face heat, and she hides herself in her textbook. “What, of course I don’t like her!”
she hisses, unable to stop the rising flush spreading across her face. “Actually, I kind of do, because
she’s endeared herself to me rather quickly these few days, but it’s completely platonic, like how I
love the Glee club, and I don’t harbor any romantic feelings towards her, okay? She’s just a dear
friend to me and it would be awkward if I liked her, considering that I’ve just settled things with
Finn, and I’m offended that you would even ask that!”
“The lady doth protest too much,” Kurt sings haughtily, and when Rachel protests, he simply gives
her an unimpressed look. “Picture her in the tightest tank top and booty shorts you can imagine.”

At his words, she can’t stop the assortment of mental images that flood her brain, and the absolute
delectable picture of a barely-clothed Quinn Fabray with hooded eyes and a confident smirk sends
intense pangs of desire from her lower belly to her wetness, and she presses her thighs tightly
together unconsciously in an attempt to bring some relief to her suddenly aching core, the images
igniting a flame in her that spreads across her entire body.

“Something you wanna share with the rest of us, Rach?” Kurt raises his brow, and Rachel thinks
that Quinn does it much better, her brain conjuring up that perfect arched eyebrow as the
cheerleader whispers dirty things in her ear, nipping at her earlobe and tugging sensually – fuck,
now her panties are ruined, soaked and practically dripping.

“Okay, so maybe she turns me on a little…or a hell lot,” she admits, heat radiating off her in waves
from both arousal and embarrassment. “But she’s Quinn Fabray, who wouldn’t be physically
attracted to her?”

“I’ll give you that at least,” the porcelain-skinned boy agrees, “I’m probably the gayest stereotype
ever and I’d still go straight for her.”

“Plus, it’s not like she’d ever reciprocate if I did end up having feelings for her,” Rachel shrugs
quietly.

“Her best friends are Brittany and Santana, maybe she’ll surprise you,” Kurt answers with a soft
lift to his voice, and when Rachel gives him a doubtful look, he looks as if he desperately wants to
add something, but then he shakes his head and says instead with a small smile, “Anyways, what
do you think is the appropriate attire for football-going?”

That just sets her off even more, because oh god what is she going to wear, and more importantly,
how the hell can one possibly impress Quinn Fabray?

X-X-X-X-X

It’s not even a few minutes into the game, and even with her mediocre knowledge of football,
Rachel can already tell that their team sucks.

She doesn’t really have any idea what’s going on, but Kurt is shouting demeaning things along
with the crowd, and she’s pretty sure that Finn shouldn’t be crushed under two guys already, so she
sighs and pats down the wrinkles in her black dress.

At least Kurt had helped her to find something that he said made her look really good, so that’s
that, as it’s probably one of the only dresses in her closet that isn’t argyle or plaid.

She doesn’t really have an interest in football, and she never did understand what Finn had told her,
but she makes do by making conversation with Kurt, and pretty soon, it’s half-time.

The crowd suddenly goes silent, as if they’re all awaiting the Cheerios to run out onto the pitch
with anticipation, and it’s clear to Rachel that most of them are just here to see them, because the
second Quinn bolts out leading her squad with a pearly grin, the entire stand roars with cheers and
hoots.
Girls start doing backflips and handsprings, skirts flying up as they twirl in perfect sync, but Rachel
only has eyes for Quinn, and she barely registers the others as they hoist her up.

There’s an underlying current of fear rushing through her while watching the blonde do death-
defying stunts, but it’s overshadowed by her eyes rapidly honing in on Quinn’s every move,
moving with such grace and fluidness that it leaves Rachel breathless and her mouth dry, enamored
by the display.

Quinn is flexible, bending down and doing god knows what with practiced ease, and the brunette
feels the inferno in her stomach start to fan hotter and hotter, the heat spreading towards her entire
body and settling like a second layer of skin.

Just when she thinks that she can’t possibly get more turned on, Quinn, now at the top of the
pyramid for the grand finale, gets boosted up into the air, and terror that the head Cheerio is going
to fall envelopes Rachel.

Until Quinn’s thighs part into a perfect spilt, creamy skin all on display, and the singer feels herself
clench, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat so hard that they turn white in an attempt to stop
herself from rubbing her thighs to cause some friction. Sky Splits indeed.

The honor-roll student’s MySpace name holds a whole other meaning to her now, with a visual
going with it to boot, and Rachel barely stops herself from letting out a choked noise at recalling
Quinn’s legs parting and her Cheerio’s skirt barely covering the red spanks underneath.

“Holy shit,” Kurt breathes next to her, “Now I kinda wish that I was straight.”

Rachel doesn’t reply, knowing that if she tried, all that would come out would be a few strangled
croaks, and her brain barely functions enough to stop her from drooling a puddle.

Abruptly, she’s regretting not coming to Mckinley’s other games, because who knows how much
she missed, but then, she thinks of how many have already watched that very scene of Quinn being
tossed into the air, and she growls, jealousy rushing at her out of nowhere at every direction.

She doesn’t bother to provide the excuse that she’s just ‘looking out for a friend’.

X-X-X-X-X

The rest of the game slowly passes by, with every second just heightening her pent-up feelings,
and when it finally ends with them inevitably losing, she tells Kurt not to wait for her and marches
to the Cheerios’ locker room, her gut urging her to find and see Quinn.

When she opens the door, she’s met with the horrendous sight of Santana and Brittany making out
like no tomorrow, with the former barely clothed and the latter not wearing anything at all, and
thankfully, their lewd noises are blocked out by the running showers a few rows behind them.

Yelping, she covers her eyes to block out their indecency, which draws their attention to her, and
Santana groans, “What are you doing here, hobbit?”

“I bet she’s here because she saw Q do her totally sexy splits, and she wants to be a bicorn too,”
Brittany pipes up, and when Rachel chances a glance through her fingers, she breathes a sigh of
relief that the ditzy blonde had used a towel to cover herself up for now, not really listening to what
Brittany had said.

Dropping her hand down, the diva opens her mouth to respond, but then Santana cuts her off,
yelling further into the locker room, “Hey Immaculate Conception, the prude’s here for you!”

With that, the Latina drags her girlfriend (everyone knows at this point, really) by the hand to the
direction of the shower stalls where Rachel assumes that all the other cheerleaders are, and she
shivers to clear the image of what she had walked in on earlier.

“Hey,” a voice sounds from her other side, and the singer only just contains her nerves by sharply
inhaling, skin lit aflame by the steam coating the atmosphere of the locker room.

“Hi Quinn,” she says right as she turns to see the blonde, and she’s very much not prepared for the
sight that greets her.

Quinn Fabray, in only her red bra and Cheerio’s skirt.

Rachel’s eyes rake across the cheerleader’s form without prompting, and the diva’s nipples harden
and strain against the suddenly constraining material of her bra at smooth, hard abs and small,
perky breasts, her fingers itching to reach out and touch, to run over muscles and feel them flex.

“My eyes are up here Berry,” Quinn smirks, tone teasing, and Rachel flushes in embarrassment,
stuttering out apologies as she darts her eyes away.

“I- I um, I wanted to tell you how good you looked out there,” she manages, and at how weak it
had sounded, she cringes, eyes still resolutely concentrated on the red locker right in her peripheral.

Quinn hums in response, lips rubbing together, and slowly strides towards her in measured, careful
steps, and Rachel is reminded of a feline stalking its prey, confident and assured.

The blonde’s abs flex as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and Rachel finds herself
dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, throat unbelievably parched as she backs a step, her back
meeting the cold metal of a locker, causing her to release a soft hiss at the contact with her
enflamed body.

“I could give you a private performance, if you wanted,” Quinn tempts with a lazy drone, leaning
in closer and closer, so close that she’s whispering in the brunette’s ear, and with one final step,
their bodies are fit snug together, pressing against each other in all the right places.

Feeling the cheerleader’s bare stomach through the thin material of her dress, hard abs pressing
against her, Rachel rasps in a breath, both mind and body overclocked as she’s assaulted by all the
electricity buzzing through the air, and she whirls to life at the sensations.

Quinn arches her brow, and in a quiet yet commanding purr, drawls, “I’m waiting, Berry.”

It sends pleasant rolls of shivers up the diva’s spine, and out of breath, she closes her eyes with a
silent gasp, Quinn’s hot pants still against her ear.

She’s clenching hard, so wet she’s afraid that the blonde can smell her arousal, and she so
desperately wants to rub her thighs together or jerk her hips to cause some friction, anything, but
Quinn is right there, leg between hers, and Rachel knows that if she even moves a little, the
cheerleader will feel it, and even worse, the singer’s not sure if she can bring herself to stop if she
does.

An almost pitiful whimper makes itself out of her throat, and Quinn takes mercy on her, a low
chuckle filling the brunette’s ears. “Don’t worry, I’ve already saved you a dance,” she sends
another smirk Rachel’s way, before letting her eyes drag across the petite girl’s frame. “Nice dress
by the way.”

And with that said and done, Quinn doesn’t wait for a reply and pulls back swiftly, zips her skirt
down, and lets it fall to the floor, revealing the red spanks underneath matching her sports bra.

Rachel’s chest contracts even more, eyes unable to keep from roaming the amount of porcelain
skin on display, and she can only watch as Quinn walks away to the showers with her hips swaying,
disappearing into the thick steam that fogs the room as if she was never there in the first place.

The brunette expels a breath she didn’t know she was holding, heart beating out of her chest with
rapid rise and falls, and she throws her head back to rest against the cold red locker, the cool metal
doing nothing to calm her raging heat.

Letting herself slowly slide down to the floor, Rachel’s heartbeat doesn’t slow down for a second,
pounding loudly in her ears along with the ache in her haunting her lower body, and it takes a good
five minutes for her to get herself together enough to stumble out of the locker room with an
intense flush on her face.

Well, at least she can confirm what she had told Kurt earlier.

She’s definitely physically attracted to Quinn Fabray.

Fucking lust.
 III. Part I
Chapter Summary

The one where we get emotional fluff

Chapter Notes

poetzproblem mentioned this fic on tumblr (SENPAI NOTICED ME) my life is

complete and there is no point in continuing this fic amen.
…jk there’s no way I’m giving this up any time soon lol

III.

Gasping, Rachel wakes from her slumber with a desperate moan, fleeting flashes of hazel eyes and
blonde tresses behind her eyelids.

Forehead sweaty and a hungry churn in her lower stomach, she curses the fact that she had to go to
sleep with tightly clenched eyes and fists, refusing to resort to…other measures to sort her problem
out.

Stretching and trying her best to control her teenage urges, she hears her phone chime next to her,
and she frowns.

Quinn had texted her last night, and they had gone on with their usual banter and endless topics of
discussion, but the blonde didn’t bring up what happened in the locker room, and Rachel was too
afraid to ask.

It didn’t bother her, per say, but something about the situation had her puzzled, and she couldn’t,
for the life of her, figure it out.

Last night, she probably would’ve spent hours thinking about the Cheerio’s words if she let herself,
but then she ended up thinking about said Cheerio’s actions and tone while saying them, and well –
let’s just say that she had to physically restrain her traitorous hands.

Her phone buzzes again, and she shakes her head, getting out of bed with a yawn.

Quinn: Morning Rae. Be at your house in like 20.

Sending off a greeting of her own, Rachel can’t help her frown growing wider as she realizes that
today’s the last day Quinn’s driving her.

The thought sends a pang of something through her, and a familiar fear grasps her, because even
though Quinn’s proven that she won’t leave, Rachel can’t shake her insecurities – What if the
cheerleader’s just doing this because she just got too caught up that Friday, and now she’s just
being polite, ready to bolt the second her promise is finished?

Rachel almost drives herself crazy with her loud thoughts over the whirl of her elliptical, and as she
sullenly walks with Quinn to the honor-roll student’s car, she can’t bring herself to act cheerful.

“You okay?” Quinn asks a few minutes later, a worried brow furrowed. “You’re not even singing
along to the music, and you always do.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel offers a smile that doesn’t reach her face, and it’s a generic answer if she’s ever
heard one.

A contemplative look crosses the taller girl’s face, and she asks, “Your dads’ car is getting fixed
tomorrow, right?”

If anything, that just makes Rachel feel worse, her suspicions confirmed, because Quinn didn’t
want to drive her after all, and she sullenly replies an affirmative. “Look, if you don’t want to drive
me anymore, it’s completely fine, I can just walk home after school,” she mumbles, “I know that
I’ve been a big hassle.”

“No you haven’t,” Quinn immediately protests, an understanding gleam in her eyes as if she had
confirmed something. “I like driving you, and you do a lot more than you think.”

It doesn’t do much to lift the diva’s mood, and even when she settles down on the bleachers to do
her math credits, it’s still with a visible gloom.

Even worse, Mr. Schue had canceled Glee that day – which at this point, everyone knows it’s
because he’s too busy mooning over Pillsbury and cursing Dr. Howell – so Rachel couldn’t even
sing a tear-jerking ballad to let her tremulous feelings out, and possibly motivate Quinn to like her
more.

When the cheerleader drives her home, she tries her best to enjoy the ride and laugh with Quinn
about trivial matters, but the looming fear that the blonde will drop her like nothing once this is
over is always at the back of her mind, mongering over her head.

She hopes that somehow, the car will go slowly, but alas, it never does, and they reach her house
all too quickly, the tires of Quinn’s car screeching to a holt.

The chivalrous cheerleader walks her to her door like she always does, and Rachel catches the
blonde looking over the Cheerio’s jacket she’s wearing with an appraising gaze, not for the first
time, and the brunette blushes, flattered by the attention.

“See you tomorrow?” Rachel asks, a hopeful lift to her voice.

“Definitely,” Quinn throws her a smile, leaving Rachel breathless like all the times before, and the
singer tentatively sends one back, because that implies that Quinn intends to keep their friendship
up, right?

When she watches the blonde drive away, she doesn’t know if the feeling in her chest is hope or
dread.

X-X-X-X-X
Her phone doesn’t chime at 5:45, and Rachel pretends that it doesn’t upset her as much as it does.

She really shouldn’t be this dramatic – it’s one of her many flaws, she’s been told – but this is
Quinn Fabray, and if anyone is allowed be dramatic about something, it’s definitely the blonde
Cheerio, what with her show-stopping smile and stunning beauty. Anyone would be unhappy at the
loss of Quinn driving them.

She will deny to her last breath that she absolutely broods while eating breakfast passive
aggressively, but that’s what she does.

Purposely stabbing at her vegan pancakes with slow, jagged movements, she wonders if she can
skip school today. Or tomorrow.

Or for fucking forever.

Bi-rry lets out an ungraceful snort at that, and Rachel just chews harder at her food, chomping
down on it like Godzilla.

“What’s up with her?” Leroy asks as he walks into the kitchen.

Hiram looks as puzzled as he is. “No idea.”

“Maybe it’s her period?”

“How should I know, do I look like someone who would know about these things?”

“Well neither do I, you’re the one who-”

“Father figures, I am right here you know,” Rachel snaps, “And while I appreciate your apparent
concern, what I don’t is your insistence of talking over me like I don’t exist.”

“O…kay then,” Leroy exchanges a silent look with Hiram, but the shorter man doesn’t seem to
know what’s gotten Rachel so wound up. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Everything!” she bemoans, throwing her hands up in a fit.

“Uh,” Hiram hedges, “Is Schue trying to ruin your life again?”

“He’s always trying to ruin my life,” Rachel huffs, “But no.”

“Finn hurt your feelings?”

Rachel snorts, “The sooner he leaves me alone the better.”

“Kurt?”

She shoots him a look, and he rubs his head sheepishly, “Well then I don’t know, sweetie, I’m
really reaching here.”

“Oh, I know,” Leroy suddenly snaps his fingers, “It’s that cheerleader, isn’t it? Sant- No, Quinn, I
think.”

At that, Rachel lets out a wail, and hides herself in her arms.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” her dad cautiously deduces, “I thought that she turned over a new
leaf over or something after she got pregnant and kicked out – honestly I thought that Russell
couldn’t get worse – but is she giving you a hard time again?”

Leroy’s words only serve to increase Rachel’s woe, and she miserably mourns, “No! If anything,
she’s giving me too little of a hard time!”

Her fathers seem to be at a lost at what to say. “…Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s horrible!” Rachel bursts out, “She’s being all nice and sweet and now I’m getting too clingy
and then she’ll realize that and hate me!”

Her outburst stuns them both into silence, but before any of them can say something, her phone
chimes, reminding the brunette of Quinn’s pick-up text, and she nearly throws it out of the window
(conveniently right next to her) right then and there.

Dejectedly, she glances over at her phone, expecting to find Jacob Ben Israel sending her a creepy
text again after changing his number for the nth time.

Quinn: Morning Rach, be there in three seconds :)

Wait, what?

Furrowing her brow, Rachel reads over the text again, and she doesn’t fully process it until she
hears the doorbell ring, and making a grab for her bag and ignoring her fathers’ inquisitive looks,
she basically trips her way to the door, opening it with a bewildered look.

“Hey,” Quinn greets, and the blonde is unprepared for the crushing bear-hug that Rachel
smoothers her in.

“You’re here,” the brunette smiles against the taller girl’s neck, tone slightly awed.

“Well I have to find someone to add to my car radio every day,” Quinn shrugs as best as she can
while enveloped in the shorter girl’s embrace.

Realizing that she’s probably lingering too long, Rachel reluctantly pulls away, voice still in that
breathless hue. “Every day?”

At this, Quinn looks almost shy, biting her lip with a half-smile in rare display of uncertainty. “If
you want me to.”

The picture is almost too adorable for Rachel to handle, and she loops her arm with the blonde’s,
tugging them towards the car with a grin.

X-X-X-X-X

They fall into the schedule they’ve seemed to establish the past few days, with Rachel watching
Quinn’s Cheerio practice before walking to class, eating together at lunch before Glee, and then
when school ends, the brunette stays in the auditorium to practice her singing until Quinn comes
after cheering.

The fact that they have a schedule, that Quinn deems her close enough to create a daily routine with
her, makes her heart flutter, and she practically bounces down the stairs to breakfast the next day.

Her dads barely bat an eye at her stark contrast in mood, already used to her diva-tistic tendencies –
which reminds her to prepare another PowerPoint for them on proper parenting etiquette – and she
happily eats her breakfast, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Thirty minutes later, she’s trying her best to do her homework in spite of the highly distracting
flying of red skirts, and when Sylvester finally dismisses the Cheerios to go shower, the diva looks
over her work only to find endless lines of scribbles.

Well, at least that’s an improvement over the drool she found yesterday.

She’s walking to the school doors with a skip to her step when she’s roughly pushed from behind,
and she staggers forward, narrowly managing to avoid a head-first crash against the wall.

Cornered, she looks upon her assailants with confused eyes. Three sophomore Cheerios, towering
over her with their hands on their hips in a poor imitation of the HBIC pose.

“Good morning,” she nervously greets, eyes darting around to look for Quinn. “How may I help
you?”

“You can help me by stopping to spread your dyke disease, RuPaul,” the one in the middle snarls,
causing Rachel to wince. She hadn’t heard that one in a while, and it stung.

“I’m not sure I’m following here,” she stalls, “Would you be so kind as to clarify?”

“Oh don’t play stupid,” the one to the right sneers, dark and full with malice. “We know that
you’ve been talking to Quinn, getting her to think that she can protect the losers of this school. But
she can’t. You’re a loser, at the bottom of the barrel, and that’s what you always will be. So quit
trying to pretend you’re better than us because you have Quinn Fabray on your side, you’ll only
end up dragging her down, and then she’ll leave you like everyone else!”

Maybe it’s because Rachel hasn’t heard these insults for at least four months, or maybe it’s
because she’s gotten used to Quinn’s sweet words, but they cut her deep, playing on her
insecurities, and she shrinks into herself on reflex, even though she knows that it’ll only spur her
tormentors on.

They’ll finish their verbal abuse eventually, and she’ll be able to get away soon, so she just wraps
her arms around herself and hope they get bored soon. They always do, after a while.

But it doesn’t stop her from scanning the field in hope that Quinn will come to her rescue like she
did on Monday, to take her into her arms and warmth and never let go.

It’s a dangerous train of thought to have, and there’s probably at least a dozen warning signs that
she needs to take note of, but it’s what her treacherous mind wanders to, and she’s powerless to
stop it.

The Cheerios continue to throw demeaning taunts and jeers at her like blades, and she keeps her
eyes trained on her sneakers in humiliation.

She won’t cry and give them the satisfaction. She won’t.

Like all the times before, only the walls of the bathroom will ever see her cry.

But then a familiar voice cuts in, and she almost cries out in relief. Quinn.
“Back the fuck away from her!” the blonde all but demands, absolutely enraged with her hazel
pools of darkness alight.

The three Cheerios take a step back instinctively, looks of terror flashing on their faces, which
grants Rachel just enough time to flee behind Quinn, feeling an immense sense of safety and
comfort already at the girl’s presence.

The head cheerleader radiates unadulterated anger, glaring daggers and burning holes through her
squad-mates’ heads.

Reaching a hand out to softly touch Quinn’s hand placed on her waist, Rachel rubs her thumb over
the back of the smooth pale hand, and the blonde relaxes, if only slightly.

On Monday, Quinn had her disinterested, aloof act on to Karofsky and Azimio, speaking in her
lazy yet threatening drawl. This time, she is full-on fuming, posture coiled like she’s ready to
pounce and strike at any time.

Rachel thinks that it’s maybe the two football players had only tried to Slushy her, but the Cheerios
had given her a verbal beatdown, and Quinn knows that it hurts Rachel much more than a slushie
could, which made the blonde the more furious.

“What. Did I. Say. About. Rachel. On. Monday?”

Quinn pronounces each word like she’s stabbing someone, and she probably is going to soon,
judging by the looks of sheer panic the three sophomores are unable to keep hidden.

“You said that she was off-limits,” one of them replies weakly, as if she already knows that she
won’t be able to escape the Queen Bee’s wrath.

(She won’t. Rachel knows the look on Quinn’s face well enough.)

“Yep,” the tall blonde hums, managing to make that sound downright scary too. “So can someone
tell me why the fuck did you decide to do what you did?”

None of the three answer, and Quinn looks to Rachel, face turning softer with something akin to
concern and worry. “What did they say?” she asks gently. “Tell me and I’ll kick their asses so hard
they won’t be able to walk for a week. Or maybe a month, I don’t care.”

Not wanting to cause even more of a scene, the brunette hesitates in responding, but the look on
Quinn’s face is pleading, as if she needs to know, and it is what prompts Rachel to whisper in
resignation, the words still hurting as she says them, “They thought that I was spreading my ‘dyke
disease’ to you.”

The tall girl standing in front of her protectively looks absolutely livid as she processes the words,
and Rachel actually worries for the three Cheerios’ safety for a second.

Rushing to squeeze at Quinn’s hand, the diva reminds, “Quinn.”

There’s an almost imperceptible change in the blonde’s hard eyes, but it’s there, and she turns back
to her squad-mates. “I won’t bother to correct you because I know you won’t think differently,” she
growls, voice full of steel. “But what I am going to do is far worse. Forty laps, now.”

The three girls pale instantly, and Rachel almost feels bad for them. Ten miles would definitely
send someone to the sick room for a while, especially after a grueling Cheerio’s practice. Almost.
They start to plead, but it’s no use, and Quinn barks, “Now!”

There’s a collective gulp, and sullenly, they start to jog towards the track.

Quinn stares after them with a glare that could cut diamond, and Rachel can only look at the head
cheerleader, chest still rising and falling with anger.

The honor-roll student looks freshly showered, water droplets still on her skin and hair still damp
and down her shoulders, and now that the danger is over, the petite singer allows herself to be
filled with appreciation instead (of both the varieties).

Her eyes unabashedly follow the water droplets that drip down from Quinn’s hair to her neck in a
slow trail, and Rachel feels her own panties drip with moisture of her own. Really, it’s almost
jarring how Quinn can get her hot and bothered in a minute than Finn could in hours.

“They have a free period, along with Santana, so they won’t be able to get out of their laps any
time soon,” Quinn promises, a hint of hardness still residing in her tone, snapping the diva out of
her Quinn-induced trance.

“Thank you,” she whispers quietly.

It’s only then that she truly allows herself to let the hurtful words the three Cheerios had aimed at
her sink in, and she feels her eyes sting.

Soon enough, she feels a pair of strong arms circling around her body, and a comforting chin on her
head. Burying her head into Quinn’s neck and sucking in a breath, she lets herself be held and
rocked back and forth, losing herself in the warm body wrapped around her.

It’s then that it occurs to her that she’s never really been held like this, taken care of and treasured,
and that’s what unleashes the waterworks to fall, Rachel sobbing into the taller girl’s uniform.

Throughout it all, Quinn just holds her tight, pulling her flush against her body and saying nothing.
She understands perfectly that right now, actions are speaking much more than words can, and
Rachel will forever be grateful for that.

They’re probably going to be late for class again, but for once, she doesn’t care, content to just
bask in Quinn’s warmth and soak it all in.

The blonde rubs slow circles on the brunette’s back until her shaking body calms down, and she
pulls away just enough to look at Rachel’s eyes. “Wanna go sit on the bleachers and watch them
suffer until you feel better?” she offers, and the gesture just makes the singer burst out in tears.

“I didn’t want to make you cry, I’m sorry,” Quinn frantically tries to discern what she did wrong,
“Do you want me to drive you home to watch Funny Girl or something? Or take you to a karaoke
place to sing?”

Shaking her head, Rachel sniffles, chest full with adoration. “How did I get such a good friend?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn gives her a small smile. “How did you bribe Kurt anyway?”

“Oh stop your modesty act,” she half-heartedly complains. “You’re making the rest of us look
bad.”

“I could never outshine you,” the cheerleader sincerely admits, and the genuine truth Rachel can
see shining in those eyes gives her a head rush in all the best ways. “Now come on, let’s go to the
bathroom to clean up.”

The bell has long rung, so the halls are empty, but Quinn still shields her by hiding her in her chest,
gently guiding her to the nearest bathroom as if she’s an angel guiding her to salvation.

Rachel moves to the paper tissues and the sink almost routinely, and when Quinn speaks, it’s with
a guilty and remorseful tone. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t reply, and that’s answer enough.

“I am so-”

“Don’t,” Rachel cuts her off, and it comes off harsher than intended. She softens the edge in her
voice, “Just…don’t, please Quinn? You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted it. Stop beating yourself
up over it. The things you did will never be okay, but we’ve all moved on, and the only thing left is
to forgive yourself.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for a long time, eyes gazing upon Rachel’s tear-tracked face with pain,
and when she does a few moments later, it’s with a hesitant upturn of her lips. “I was going to say
that I was sick of your insistence of not wearing my letterman properly, but that’s okay too, I
guess.”

Rachel lets out a watery laugh, and she allows the blonde to take the jacket from the bag to help her
in it. “I didn’t want to seem too clingy,” she defends meekly, unable to meet Quinn’s eyes.

“Eyes up Berry, we’ve gone over this,” the cheerleader clicks her tongue, “I like seeing you in my
clothes, and I like spending time with you. Well…if you want to, that is, but you’ve given me quite
an ego-boost just now, so I’m just gonna invite you to ditch class with me instead.”

At that, Rachel huffs, rolls her eyes and smiles at the same time, looping her arm with Quinn’s.
“You’re such a terrible influence,” she shakes her head fondly.

The taller girl quirks an eyebrow at her. “Is that a yes?”

Rachel doesn’t deign to dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the sink to wash up
with a laugh.

But then Quinn suddenly is holding her from behind, gently turning her around to face her as the
cheerleader takes the wet tissue from her hand. “You’re beautiful, Rachel.”

The words are uttered in a breathy husk, almost reverential like it can’t be anything but the truth,
and it throws her off-guard immediately, her breath lifting in a silent hitch. “Quinn, I-”

“You’re beautiful, you’re amazing, and you’re perfect.”

This time, they’re accompanied by Quinn wiping away her dried tears with a steady yet tender
hand. The moment is just so intimate that Rachel can only stand there and let the blonde take care
of her, unable to look away from shining hazels that seem to breathe life into her.

Quinn seems equally taken by their position, so close that their bodies are barely apart, and for a
second, it’s almost like the blonde wants to close the distance entirely. Rachel’s heart starts beating
ferociously, but then Quinn realizes what she’s doing and pulls away abruptedly.

“Come on, let’s go to class like boring little teacher’s pets.”

“Okay.”

Just like that, the moment is broken, but Rachel can’t bring herself to care as Quinn tugs them off
to their shared second period literature class, the bell ringing just in time.

Their arms stay snuggly intertwined as they walk through the empty halls, and the singer tries to
ignore the stark flutters in her stomach at the warmth.

(She utterly and miserably fails, and Bi-rry crackles the whole way through.)

X-X-X-X-X

As Rachel goes to sit at her usual front row and center seat, Quinn snorts and pulls her away to the
back instead, much to her protest and distain.

“Quinn Fabray what are you doing,” she whisper-screeches, “I must claim the best seat in the class,
or else I won’t be able to grasp the material sufficiently, and Julliard doesn’t accept anything but
the best, so I implore you to let me go and look upon my incredible work ethic as an example to
good student-ing, joining me to-”

“Rachel,” Quinn snaps her fingers, tone fond and now settled down at the corner seat. She tugs
gently at the brunette’s hand, guiding her to the seat next to the Cheerio as she says in an amused
hue, “I’ll tutor you, now sit down, or else people will think that I’m kidnapping you.”

“You might as well be,” she sulks in response, before acquiescing to the blonde’s wishes and
plopping down into the seat with her arms crossed.

The corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks up, and she chuckles, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

It’s at that time when their literature teacher Mr. Poe comes in, and at the empty seat that’s usually
filled by a short and loud brunette, he frowns, confused. “Uh, Ms. Berry, you okay back there?”

Rachel produces a ‘hmmph’ sound and raises her hand, sitting straighter. “Of course I am perfectly
fine Mr. Poe, it’s not like I was dragged here against my will at all, and I assure you, I will pay my
complete and focused attention to your teachings as per usual, so do not despair.”

Mr. Poe simply stares at her with a dumbfounded look, and mutters a few choice words under his
breath – Rachel has perfect hearing, and she doesn’t appreciate the things he says, thank you berry
much – before shaking his head and beginning the lesson.

A soft laugh brings the diva’s attention elsewhere, and she looks to the right where Quinn is
looking at her with an entertained yet soft expression, seemingly studying her.

“Your neck cranes and your eyes widen slightly when you get worked up like that, and you bite
your lip a bit,” the blonde notes, gaze still directed at her every move. “It’s cute.”

Rachel blushes, ducking her head like a bashful schoolgirl, and bites down harder on her inner lip.
“Thank you,” she mummers, a fuzzing warmth resting lazily on her chest.

It seemed like every word Quinn says is perfectly thought out and executed, managing to strike at
all Rachel’s weak points, and she loves how the honor-roll student’s words can make her feel
everything and anything at once, breathing life into her.

Before, Quinn would tear and rip her apart at the seams with her cruel and cutting words,
calculated and measured to create the most damage possible. But now, the head cheerleader uses
her words to make her feel the most amazing things instead, inspiring confidence and the will to be
better in Rachel. She’s still torn apart at the seams, but this time it’s because of Quinn’s absolutely
beautiful words, building her back up stronger than before.

Quinn Fabray is a wordsmith by the very definition of the word, and Rachel loves that she’s one of
the few people who gets to learn these little things about the blonde, the little things that only she
gets the privilege to know and cherish.

She doesn’t know what she had done to deserve this, but every day she learns more about Quinn,
hungering for more, and she hopes that the feeling will never stop.

Her thoughts are interrupted by hearing her name called by Mr. Poe, along with Quinn’s, and she
glances at the Cheerio with a bemused look.

“Well that’s convenient,” the blonde sends a smile her way, and Rachel furrows her brow in a
silent question. “We got paired up for a project on the Odyssey,” Quinn fills her in, before teasing
with a playful sardonic edge, “Complete and focused attention my ass.”

Well, Quinn does have a lovely ass, Rachel muses, So no one can blame me for doing just that.

Wait. Those aren’t appropriate thoughts.

Eh fuck it, blame it on Bi-rry, it’s her fault most of the time anyway.

But really, that really is a nice ass – round and full, always swaying deliciously, and oh god when-

Shit, stop! She feels that all-too-familiar churn in her lower belly, consuming her into an ever-
lasting inferno, and Quinn is right fucking there, looking at her with that goddamn sexy eyebrow
and half-smirk, and she’s going to explode soon if she doesn’t do anything, so she mumbles the
first thing that comes to mind.

“My place!” she blurts out, and colors immediately, eyes wide in mortification.

Thankfully, Quinn just looks on with an amused and affectionate eyebrow raise as she always does.
“You propositioning me Berry? I’ll have you know that I don’t put out on the first date you know,”
she smirks, before adding, much like an afterthought, “Well, I guess I did for Puck, but then again,
I was drunk and feeling fat, and now I have the power of therapy on my side, so good luck with
that.”

The reminder of Quinn and Puck’s brief dalliance sends a sinking feeling to her, overriding her
urge to blush a beet red, but she shakes it off, chalking it up to her being upset at Puck’s taking
advantage of the blonde – she doesn’t care how pretty he makes it sound, she might not go as far as
call it rape, but even at best it was dubious consent, and she’s still pretty mad at him for that.

Taking a breath to block out the sudden unsettle in her stomach, Rachel tries for a smile. “I meant
that we could do the project at my place,” she clarifies sheepishly.

Quinn agrees easily enough, and the day goes by as quick as a flash, because Rachel’s walking
with the blonde to her doorstep while hyperventilating in what seems to her as only a little while
later.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, she chants in her internal freak-out, Quinn Fabray’s coming over to
my house what the hell was I thinking, it’s entirely not tidy enough and there’s too much Broadway
memorabilia and she’s going to regret getting involved in my crazy and leave me like everyone
else, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Rae?” the blonde cheerleader’s concerned voice rings in her ears, “You look like you’re having a
panic attack, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she yelps as she rapidly gulps in another breath, chest feeling like it’s contracting and
expanding at the same time, “I just- Well, I seem to be – fuck – having a hard- a hard time
breathing right now.”

“Shit,” Quinn breathes out as she quickly moves to steady the brunette, grabbing her arms gently.
“Okay, breathe in and out with me,” the taller girl instructs, “Can you do that, Superstar? In and
out, just like that.”

Rachel barely resisters the words, and she tries to follow the cheerleader’s commands, but it’s no
use, and she feels her lungs too much and too little air at the same time, suffocating her, and it’s
like she’s drowning, slowly choking to death.

“I can’t,” she rasps, tears stinging in her eyes. “I can’t- I can’t breathe, and it hurts, and I can’t- I
can’t, Quinn, please, I just can’t-”

“Yes you can Rae,” Quinn assures her, one hand reaching down to lightly pry open the singer’s
clenched shut fingers. “You’re strong, and you’re safe, and you can do it. Now breathe with me,
yeah sweetie? Breathe with me, you’re okay, so just breathe with me.”

Maybe it’s the feeling of Quinn’s hand in hers, weighty and there, or maybe it’s the blonde’s
words, coaxing her on, because for a brief second, her mind clears, a haunting moment of clarity,
and she follows the taller girl’s lead, trying her best to regulate her breathing without panicking.

Squeezing hard at the hand clutched in hers, she ignores the stark pain aching everywhere, and she
breathes like Quinn guides her to, slowly taking in a breath before releasing it.

Her lungs feel like they’re on fire and her throat is like it’s being strangled and choked, but Quinn
is right in front of her, goading her on with reassuring and supportive words all the way through,
and somehow, Rachel finds it in herself to calm down, chest still panting with harsh breaths.

Suddenly, her knees give out, and she wobbles unsteadily, legs unable to support her weight and
head light, feeling as if it’s splitting apart and drumming in her head like a loud voice that won’t
shut up, drilling into her head again and again.

For a second, she frantically thinks that she’s going to fall, but then Quinn’s arms are around her
like a safety blanket, holding her up like a pillar of strength.

Feeling absolutely safe in those warm arms, she lets out a shaky breath, chest still aching
impossibly, and she closes her eyes, blocking out the overload of sensations.

It doesn’t occur to her that Quinn had taken her keys and guided them into the living room’s sofa
until she’s half-draped over the porcelain-skinned girl, head buried in her neck.

The whole ordeal is maybe just five minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity to Rachel, and the
silence is stifling, like it’s peering into all her secrets and insecurities.

“Do you have any kind of pills you can take?” Quinn’s soft voice asks after a while. “I have Xanax
and Tofranil in different dosages if you need it.”

Rachel shakes her head softly, and if she wasn’t so emotionally drained, she would question why
Quinn would possess those anti-depressants, but she can’t really focus on anything right now,
vision a blurry mess, so she simply burrows her head further into the cheerleader’s neck, clinging
onto her like a lifeline.

When she feels Quinn shift under her to maneuver away, something within her snaps, and she grabs
on even tighter, letting out a little whimper. Don’t leave me.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” the blonde assures her, fingers threading through brown locks
soothingly. “I’m just going to get some water, okay?”

Exhaling unsteadily, Rachel reluctantly loosens her grip and allows Quinn to bring her some water.
“Thank you.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

There’s a part of Rachel that doesn’t want to, afraid that Quinn’s going to mock her, but then hazel
eyes are shining at her, and suddenly she’s not scared anymore, quietly relaying her train of thought
before her panic attack had happened.

“I don’t really get them often,” she explains afterward, eyes trained on her nervously fiddling
fingers. “But I guess what happened today…you know, earlier, triggered me.”

Even just saying that much already has her cringing, ashamed to say more and worried that Quinn
will think her to be even more pathetic than she already is, but thankfully, it’s like the blonde can
hear her thoughts, and she doesn’t probe further.

“The first five times mom forced me into therapy, I didn’t speak the entire time,” is what the
Cheerio confesses instead, taking the attention off Rachel to let her breathe for a minute. “I was
having anxiety attacks every day, I barely ate, and I hated myself, Rachel, so fucking much. So
why unload all my shit on Dr. Flayke, when she was going to hand me off the second she saw how
much of a fuckup I really was? Everyone leaves, at some point. I mean, my own parents kicked me
out when all I needed was daddy to tell me that he loves me and that everything was going to be
okay.”

Quinn shrugs as she says this, blasé as ever like she’s already accepted it as what it is, and Rachel’s
heart pangs as she says, “Quinn-”

“I’m not telling you this for you to feel sorry for me – god knows I’ve done enough of that already
– but because I wanted to show you that you’re not alone,” the blonde cuts her off, “During the
sixth session, Dr. Flayke told me about how she had decided to pull the plug on her deathly ill
newborn’s life support, and she asked me if I thought that she was a heartless person for doing so.
She told me of how she had tried to kill herself afterward, and how she had eventually come to
terms with the fact that she had done it out of love.

“And I thought, if she could feel that way, then why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t anyone? One
session by one session, I rebuilt my faith in people, and well, my mom hasn’t left me yet, and
neither have you. So I’m asking you to put that trust in me, that I won’t leave like Finn or Jesse or
Shelby, and I promise you that I’ll never take you for granted ever again.”

Rachel processes the words for a long time. There’s a lot that she wants to say, like how she’s sorry
for still not trusting Quinn fully or not having reached out when it was so obvious that she was
suffering, or how thankful she is to have the blonde as her friend.

What comes out is “You should do go a Ted Talk.”

Quinn laughs, full and bright. “Come on Berry, let’s go to your room to finish the damn project.”

When the cheerleader sees the big golden star plastered on her door, she simply shakes her head
fondly, and Rachel forgets why she was so scared in the first place.

“You really should add some glow-in-the-dark ones to your ceiling,” Quinn teases as she puts her
bag in the corner, “I think ‘I love Quinn Fabray’ would look terrific, or maybe ‘Quinn Fabray’s
No. 1 fan’, your pick.”

“More like terrifying,” Rachel mutters, “Plus, I had to take down the stars a few years ago due to
the neighbours complaining that they were too bright from my window.”

“I can’t even tell if that’s a joke or not.”

“Come on, I’m not that bad,” she pouts.

The blonde stares at her until she gets the point.

 III. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where the a Troye Sivan song reveals something

Chapter Notes

I’ve got my math finals tomorrow, so if there are some glaring mistakes in this, I
apologize profusely, I’ll get around to correcting them a few days later. (And then I’ll
finally be able to write at full-speed and achieve world domina- Yeah, the math’s
messing with my head)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Remind me how you convinced me to do this again?” Rachel asks once again on their way to the
mall to meet Santana and Brittany.

Quinn cheekily grins at her, lips upturned in her signature half-smirk. “No one can resist the Fabray
charm Berry, not even you.”

“I resent that,” she grumbles in response, though she’s not quite able to keep down her smile.

Laughing, the taller girl reverses into a parking spot. “Santana won’t bite, I promise.”

“I’m more worried about her biting Brittany, to be honest.” Rachel makes a face, and Quinn laughs
again, making a budding proudness in her stomach flutter, because ha! I just made Quinn Fabray
laugh and it’s the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard – sorry Barbra.

They meet up with the rest of the Unholy Trinity a few minutes later, and she’s taken aback by the
sight of them in casual clothes, with Brittany in a t-shirt with a duck in the middle and Santana in a
sleeveless hoodie. It takes some time for Rachel’s eyes to adjust to it, the two just looking
so…normal in those clothes and so unlike the knights in red that terrorized the school on a daily
basis that she can’t quite reconcile the two images in her head.

“Hey midget,” Santana calls and nods at Quinn. “Q.”

Well, it’s good to know that their personalities are somewhat the same then…wait, Santana- on a
second thought, probably not.

Quinn sighs, as if she knows that it’s probably the best they’re going to be getting out of the Latina
for now, and she greets back, “Satan.”

The four of them quickly go from shop to shop, and Rachel’s pleasantly surprised that she’s been
integrated into the Unholy Trinity’s dynamic rather seamlessly, sliding into banter like old friends.

Santana seems so much looser and less on edge than in school, giving out smiles much more freely
and just genuinely happier, walking next to Brittany with her posture relaxed. A lot of her snark is
toned down, and most of her insults are made in good jest. It’s a refreshing change, and while
Rachel is still cautious and refrains from speaking out, she enjoys herself a lot more than she
thought she would, and watching the Unholy Trinity’s dynamic is fascinating all in itself.

While Brittany is the same chipper and airy free spirit she is, keeping Santana and Quinn from
getting into fights, there’s also something different about her, a slight shift in the air that Rachel
can’t identify but still a welcome one, and when she asks about it, the tall blonde simply smiles at
her. “I can be whoever I want with them.”

At the same time, there’s a grudging comradeship between Quinn and Santana, because while they
take shots at each other basically every ten seconds, it’s clear that they’d stick up for the other no
matter what. Rachel was definitely confused by this when she first witnessed their interaction,
especially what with their skirmishes for the Head Cheerio spot, but now that she’s gotten the time
to fully analyze their strange relationship, she understands more. Santana defers to Quinn as her
second-in-command, and Quinn knows and respects that.

“Fuck you, you almost split your drink all over me!”

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have if somebody wasn’t so fat!”

…Most of the time, she supposes.

It’s somewhere in this chaos that she somehow gets wrangled into trying on clothes that she
wouldn’t buy ever, and five minutes later, she looks into the mirror while nervously straightening
out imaginary wrinkles on her dress.

Dressed in black pumps and a strapless (thank god she heeded Quinn’s warning to wear a strapless
bra) dark blue dress that left little to the imagination as it clung onto her curves like second skin
and showed ample cleavage, she feels strange and empowered at the same time, weighing on her
chest in a way that she can’t decide is good or bad.

“Oi Berry, you’ve been in there for ages,” Santana’s brash voice rings out. “Come out and show
the goods, dammit, we haven’t even gotten to the real good stuff yet!”

Gulping, she apprehensively goes out of the changing room, feeling somewhat out of place since
her fathers never could properly teach her fashion sense like a woman could, and she exhales in an
attempt to calm her nerves.

She’s prepared for a teasing taunt or two, but she doesn’t get them.

Instead, Santana whistles appreciatively, Brittany claps her hands, and Quinn?

Well, Quinn gazes upon her form with something that can only be described as hungry lust, tracing
all of her curves with fervor, and Rachel unconsciously straightens, jutting her chest out further and
absolutely drunk on the feeling of being wanted, being desired.

With a confidence similar to the time she wore the Brittany Spears outfit to school, she smirks,
rather liking the role reversal where she’s not the one speechless. “Look good?”

“Yeah,” Quinn breathes out, visibly swallowing, before she inhales sharply and changes gear, a
considerate look showing on her face instead. “But you don’t have to wear it if you feel
uncomfortable, you look perfectly fine in your sweaters, I don’t want you to feel like you’re
obligated to wear anything Santana tells you to.”

Santana makes a snarky comment at that, but Rachel barely hears it over her heartbeat thumping in
her ears at the head cheerleader’s sweetness, and she says, “I wouldn’t be…adverse to changing
my wardrobe, though I would definitely like if it was less, well, revealing.”

“How is your outfit too insulting?” Brittany puzzles.

“You’re thinking of ‘reviling’ Britts,” Santana corrects, before turning to Rachel with a grin.
“That’s the spirit, dwarf! Q, your girl might not be so bad after all.”

Rachel blushes – well, it was good while it lasted, Bi-rry sighs – at being referred to Quinn’s,
ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. Is that what others saw her as? Quinn’s girl?

She finds that she quite likes it, and the implications of that terrify her.

Chancing a glance at the honor-roll student, she sees Quinn roll her eyes at Santana before catching
the short singer’s eyes, and her look turns almost shy, biting her lip in a way that Rachel really
shouldn’t find as cute as it is.

She tentatively sends a smile the blonde’s way, and receives one in return, making her heart skip a
few beats. “Make sure Santana won’t go overboard for me?”

Quinn hums her reply, and pretty soon, they’ve picked out an entire new wardrobe for Rachel, most
of them remarkably modest compared to some of the barely-clothes she had seen Santana picking
out for herself.

Some even look like her usual attire, though the Unholy Trinity had made sure that everything is
sans argyle, and she steps out of the changing room with flat heels, a black cardigan over a white
blouse, and a red skirt, tugging on the hem of her blouse in a mix of excitedness and nervousness at
her new change of style.

She’s still examining the many dresses and clothes in her bag, mentally cringing when she realizes
how much she had burned through her dad’s credit card but sure that he wouldn’t mind, when she
hears Quinn come out of the other changing room, and- oh wow.

Quinn’s dressed in a skin-tight black tank top, every dip and contour deliciously put on display,
and Rachel can’t stop her wandering eyes if she tried, gaze racking over creamy skin and further
down to – well fuck, she damn near drools at the mouth, because Quinn Fabray is wearing fucking
white denim booty shorts and owning it like a queen, the material molded to the blonde’s ass
delectably as Rachel fights the urge to shamelessly gawp at miles of smooth creamy leg mileage.

Somewhere along the line, Quinn grabs a blue jean jacket from a nearby rack and puts it on,
making Rachel mourn the loss of the silky alabaster skin of defined shoulders, but then the head
cheerleader twirls a bit with a tempting smirk, and Rachel reevaluates her life decisions
immediately; Quinn in a blue jean jacket is something that she never knew she needed, the taller
girl very much rocking it.

She’s still arguing with Bi-rry about the pros and cons of the honor-roll student in a jacket or no,
when said honor-roll student turns her way with a quirked eyebrow. “You like, Berry?”

There’s a PowerPoint presentation all mapped out in her head about how much she likes it, but
Rachel’s in her teenage-boy mentality at the moment, all higher brain function lost, and all she can
mumble while biting the inside of her lip is, “I like. I like a lot.”

Santana barks out a laugh, “Okay Q, gotta admit, she pulls off that cute-sexy hybrid good, me
gusta.”
“But not as much as you do me right?” Brittany frowns, tilting her like in a way not unlike a puppy.

“Definitely not as much, Britts,” the airy blonde’s girlfriend grins, and even now, Rachel’s taken
aback at the uncharacteristic softness in her tone, but then Santana’s grin turns lecherous, and the
moment is broken. “Speaking of how much I do you, how about I go ahead and do you over there
in the changing room, mama’s got-”

“Aannnd, that’s enough,” Quinn’s sharp voice cuts through the two, who look like they’re about to
start doing it any minute now, and at Santana’s blatant ignorance of her warning, already tugging
her girlfriend away, the blonde sighs, before dragging Rachel to another section of the store.
“Come on Superstar, time to leave before they inevitably get kicked out, there’re changing rooms
over here too.”

Rachel just dumbly follows, eyes trained to the swell of Quinn’s swaying ass. “They’re not actually
going to have sex, right?”

The taller girl snorts, “I’ve been woken up by their rampant fucking for years, nothing fazes me
anymore now that I’ve seen them do strap-on anal- oh wait, god wouldn’t like me ‘spreading my
perverseness’…sorry Jesus.”

“Well,” Rachel squeaks, a flush building up on her neck. “I suppose that a healthy sex life is a good
thing.”

She really shouldn’t be embarrassed about discussing kind-of kinky lesbian sex, but it’s with Christ
Crusader Quinn Fabray, and then she starts thinking about kinky sex with said girl, mind
uncontrollably flashing through scenes of pleasured moans and skin against skin.

She doesn’t think that she’d be into anal, so that’s not the reason why her body is lit aflame, but
then she pictures Quinn driving into her with a strap-on, and oh fuck, she thanks heaven that she
isn’t wearing pants, or else they’d be soaked through.

Her throat lets out a little whimper unwillingly, and Quinn looks at her with an eyebrow quirked –
which really, has no right to look so disturbingly sexy – and throws her a smirk, drawling in her
downright sensual husk, “You alright there?”

Stammering affirmatives, Rachel practically flees to one of the changing rooms, shutting the door
with her heart pounding out of her chest and fantasies of Quinn Fabray with a strap-on chasing her
behind her eyelids. Her hand itches so, so badly to reach down, just a little bit, and-

No, bad Rachel! she inwardly berates herself, forcing her hand to move away from the increasingly
tempting urge.

“You sure you’re fine?” Quinn’s voice rings out from the next changing room over, sounding all
too pleased. “Anything I can help you with?”

Oh, there’s definitely something the blonde can help her with.

It’s autumn, but Rachel has never needed a cold shower more in her life.

X-X-X-X-X
The next day, Quinn doesn’t eat lunch with her, saying that she has to prepare for something, and
Rachel knows that the Cheerio isn’t obligated to eat with her in any way, but it still leaves her in a
foul mood, lip jutted out in a pout as she walks in, first as always, into the choir room.

She tries not to grumble sullenly in her second-row seat at Glee (Quinn and her had reached a
compromise), and she knows that it’s only just for one lunch, but she misses Quinn already, the
entire lunch period without the blonde by her side making her feel a strange sense of longing.

There’s probably something more to be dwelled on in that line of thought, but then just as Mr.
Schue starts to ask for the whereabouts of the Unholy Trinity, they come in, and Rachel
immediately sees that there’s something they’re tensed about.

She may only be able to identify traces of softness in Santana and Brittany, but the day-in day-out
time she’s spent with Quinn has helped her gain access to the head cheerleader’s tics, and right
now, the honor-roll student is displaying a host of them.

Quinn’s jaw is set, in a way that’s sharp but determined, and her posture is even straighter than
normal, ramrod straight in her HBIC posture, but it’s her eyes that truly give her away.

Rachel finds an array of different emotions flickering those pools of hazel, with nervousness, fear,
and a resignation that’s expecting the worst all mixed together, but there’s also a stark resolution,
as if Quinn’s made up her mind on something very important.

The tiny brunette’s brow furrows, and she begins to beckon the blonde over with curious and
concerned eyes, but then Mr. Schue beats her to it. “Oh hey, you’re here, now take a seat and we’ll
begin, I have a lot of great-”

“Wait, Mr. Schue,” Quinn interrupts, suddenly looking deathly afraid, and she looks to Santana and
Brittany for something, perhaps reassurance, before swallowing tightly and continuing, “I-I
actually have something to perform today.”

“That’s great Quinn,” their teacher grins, clearly happy that the usually silent blonde is
participating, and motions, “The stage is all yours.”

Quinn takes a deep breath, and Rachel can hear its shakiness, confirmed by the way that the
cheerleader’s chest shudders, before she gives a jerky nod and moves to the center of the room
with tennis shoes clacking against the floor.

A piano arrangement starts playing, clearly modified to let Quinn’s voice shine, and the opening
notes wash over the Glee club, now collectively in a quiet undoubtedly fueled by interest and
noisiness.

The truth runs wild like a tear down a cheek

Trying to save face and daddy heartbreak I’m lying through my teeth
This voice inside has been eating at me
Trying to replace the love that I fake with what we both need

Quinn’s voice is in her smooth husky alto, but there’s an underlying vulnerability breaking through
it, evident through how the honor-roll student can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes, and Rachel,
without fully knowing what Quinn’s even singing about, feels her heart go out to the girl, panging
with an ache she can’t describe.

She’s singing about Beth and all the lies during the pregnancy, right?

Despite knowing that in no way could a friendship fostered in a week could stretch that deep,
Rachel still feels a pang of hurt that Quinn didn’t come to her for help, and she feels guilty
immediately, burying it deep in her chest.

This is about Quinn, and she’s going to be supportive, her own feelings aside.

But really, the blonde does have a wonderful voice, crooning out the lyrics in her silky tone and
making the lyrics stand out even more, and Rachel feels herself captivated.

The truth runs wild like kids on concrete

Trying to sedate my mind in its cage and numb what I see
Awake, wide eyed I’m screaming at me
Trying to keep faith and picture her face staring up at me

Casting a glance to the other Gleeks, almost all of them seem as intrigued as her, casting supportive
looks to the blonde, but it’s within Kurt, Santana, and Brittany’s expressions that puzzle Rachel.

Kurt is wearing a knowing but encouraging smile, Brittany is swaying excitedly (which, actually,
doesn’t seem far from usual), and an almost proud smirk is on Santana’s face, which is what tips
the petite singer off.

She briefly wonders if Quinn is singing about something else, but then that is discarded soon
enough, because what else but Beth could it be?

Without losing a piece of me

How do I get to heaven?
Without changing a part of me
How do I get to heaven?
All my time is wasted
Feeling like my heart's mistaken, oh
So if I'm losing a piece of me
Maybe I don't want heaven

Quinn’s voice breaks every time she stumbles upon the word ‘heaven’, and beyond feeling her
heart breaking for the cheerleader, Rachel can sense that there’s something more to this, not able to
shake the feeling that the song isn’t about Beth.

When Quinn would think or talk about her, her hand would always unconsciously move towards
her belly in remembrance, a habit that the girl herself had admitted to Rachel, but there’s none of
that right now, and instead, Quinn’s digging her fingernails into her rib so hard it looks like it hurts.

Rachel makes a mental note to talk to the blonde about that, but still, it’s hard to think of anything
else with Quinn looking so distraught and weary, as if she’s carrying the world on her shoulders,
and the brunette desperately aches to help lift it away.

They might have only been friends for less than a week, but Rachel knows that the connection they
have has always been there, just bubbling beneath the pretense of social hierarchies and love
triangles, and now they’re finally owning up to it, all of the pieces falling together without the
giant misplacement of Finn keeping them apart.

Quinn is sweet and funny and kind, and seeing her look so broken has Rachel almost running out to
shield her and whisk her away, but she can tell that whatever the honor-roll student wants to tell
them, she has to do it on her own.

The voice in the back of her head, most likely Bi-rry, keeps on nagging her about the meaning of
what Quinn’s singing, and an outlandish thought presents itself to her for a second, before her face
scrunches and she shakes her head.

Quinn couldn’t be- she isn’t…

No. There’s no way.

The truth runs wild like the rain to the sea

Trying to set straight the lines that I trace to find some relief
This voice inside has been eating at me
Trying to embrace the picture I paint and color me free

But it’s that moment, when Quinn trips over ‘straight’, voice cracking more and more as her mask
starts to slip, that Rachel knows.

A million thoughts rush to the forefront of her mind at once, fighting for dominance, but the only
one that she can properly pick out is pain for Quinn.

Because right then, all those odd one-liners from Kurt, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn make sense
now, and she almost cringes at how oblivious she was.

Holy shit, Quinn Fabray is gay.

Fitting the homophobic jock and the repressed Christian cliché almost perfectly, Rachel can’t
believe how she hadn’t noticed, and even with all the messy thousands running through her mind,
the only coherent thing that Rachel can think of is that it must have been extremely hard for Quinn,
to grow up in such an oppressive household while having to come to terms with her sexuality and
dealing with the pregnancy at the same time.

She knows that there was no possible way that she could’ve done anything more, what with
Quinn’s walls mighty tall and all her own stuff going on, but she still feels a sense of failure, like
she should’ve reached out more, or tried harder.

But then Quinn, now singing her way through the chorus one last time, starts crying, choking up as
she gets to the last few lines of it, and Rachel hurts, a phantom feeling that strikes and pierces
through her heart, as if she’s physically trying to take on some of Quinn’s pain to help her through.

She wills the blonde to meet her eyes, and miraculously, it works, misty hazel staring back at
chestnut brown.

Quinn looks like she’s trying to find something in her gaze, and Rachel tries with every ounce of
emotion she has in her body to convey all the proudness and supportiveness she feels, to make the
cheerleader understand how brave and amazing she’s being by doing this.

Quinn evidently finds what she wants to, a sparkle that’s not just tears making its way to her eyes,
and she loses it completely, unable to finish the outro of the song as she collapses into tears and
strangled sobs that she’s desperately trying to keep in.

Throughout it all, the slushies, the pregnancy, everything, Rachel’s never seen Quinn break down
so fully, and the sight makes her chest and stomach lurch violently, screaming at her to do
something, but she can’t move.

Neither can the rest of the Gleeks, it seems like, as they just sit in stunned silence at watching the
aloof, untouchable Ice Queen of Mckinley let down her walls, not fully sure as to what’s happening
and what to do with what they find there.
Time seems to slow down as Rachel tries to grasp onto something, anything, that will make her
vision less blurry and her mind less jumbled so that she could go to Quinn and comfort and hold
her, and the screeching in her brain is at an all-time high, but it’s like she’s rooted to the spot, feet
suddenly forgetting how to move.

“The truth runs wild.”

She faintly registers Santana and Brittany singing the line for Quinn, standing up, and that’s what
prompts her into action, because Quinn needs her right now, and she refuses to let the blonde
down. “Like a tear down a cheek.”

The Gleeks are still out of it, looking between the three of them standing and Quinn trying to stifle
her sobs, and Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes at them, focusing on Quinn instead.

The blonde’s chest heaves with abrupt and forceful pants, and for a few seconds, she’s worried that
Quinn’s going to have an anxiety attack, and with Brittany and Santana, they collectively send the
head Cheerio encouraging looks, bodies already poised to do something if anything goes wrong.

“Maybe I don’t want heaven.” Quinn finally finishes, the line more like a whisper than a tune,
broken and jagged, but Rachel doesn’t remotely care as she practically trips over herself to wrap the
taller girl in a bone-crushing hug, gently prying open tightly-clenched pale fingers.

“I’m so proud of you,” she breathes into blonde locks, and she knows that there are a lot of
questions that needs to be answered, but right now, all she cares about is Quinn, and she barely
feels Brittana joining in the hug as well, both saying their own supporting words.

Quinn shivers beneath them, tears just flowing out of her eyes without stopping, and Rachel
clutches on even tighter, trying to provide as much reassurance she can.

Soon enough, shaking arms move to hug her back, grasping on with something that can only be
described as desperation and fear, like the blonde is afraid that they’ll leave her.

Never, she vows solemnly. It’s her turn to hold Quinn now, and she’ll gladly fulfill that duty.

Behind them, she can hear the rustle of various glee members moving to join the group hug, not
really understanding what’s going on but still knowing that they have to support Quinn, and Rachel
suddenly feels a sense of gratefulness, that they had managed to overcome all odds and become a
family.

It’s a big old mushy group hug, and slowly, she can feel Quinn’s almost-violent quivering slow
down as she mummers “You’ll be okay” over and over, and soon, the pale girl is gently pushing
away, just slightly so that she can see all of the Gleeks, and Rachel can’t help but feel happy that
Quinn had elected to stay in her arms and her arms only, pulling away from everyone else.

It’s probably selfish and immature of her, but she can’t help it, and when Quinn gives her a small
smile, she can’t help the way a watery smile of her own appears.

They’re all waiting for the cheerleader to say something, a collective hush upon them, and it’s clear
by the looks on the other Gleeks’ faces that they still don’t know what this is about, confused
furrowed brows all around.

Quinn emits an unstable breath under their unintentionally scrutinizing eyes, and Rachel squeezes
lightly, silently telling her that it’s fine if she doesn’t want to say anything.

The taller girl shakes her head slightly, and the brunette is once again witness to the strong line of
 Quinn’s smooth jaw, resolutely set as her throat works down a gulp, and she inhales a sharp breath,
as if she’s expecting the worst. “I’m…gay.”

Her voice is so cracked the words can barely be made out, and it’s so quiet that if the choir room
hadn’t hushed down, even Rachel, in her close proximity, wouldn’t be able to hear it.

But they do, and the almost-gasp that passes through the choir room would almost be funny if it
really wasn’t.

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, the motion making Rachel frown, heart aching with the thought that
the cheerleader’s been so used to being discarded that the reaction is expected, and she gently
nudges her head against the blonde’s, hoping that it’ll be enough to make her at least more at ease.

The silence that envelopes the choir room is probably only a few seconds, but it feels like an
eternity, and Mercedes is the first to speak, “Oh, Quinn.”

There’s an underlying current of sympathy tracing her voice, and it just makes Quinn burrow
deeper into Rachel’s hair, rapid heartbeat felt through their chests pressed against each other.

“Can- Can I go home, please?” Quinn asks, sounding so small and fragile that Rachel feels her
heart break and shatter again, and she nods, glaring at the other Gleeks as if daring them to tell her
otherwise.

Gently guiding the Cheerio away, she motions for Brittany and Santana to follow, certain that
Quinn would want them there for the conversation that’s undoubtedly going to follow, but then
they shake their heads at her, and she nods back, knowing that Quinn definitely had planned this
beforehand with the two, and if they say that they’re not coming, then they’re not, and that’s
perfectly fine, if not a bit terrifying.

Even as they get into Quinn’s car a few minutes later, the blonde insisting that she’s stable enough
to drive, Rachel still has a whole host of questions and thoughts running rampant through her mind,
but one in particular haunts her, very much inappropriate considering what just happened and yet
still making itself known.

If Quinn is gay, then Rachel’s straight-girl excuse is all but gone, and that means she actually has a
sho-

It’s just physical attraction, dammit, and Quinn still has tear-tracks on her face right now, so stop
thinking about it, idiot! she mentally berates herself.

But really, just think of all the possibilities now, Bi-rry starts scheming, That ass, those legs, now
they’re all attainable, and-

Nononononono, Rachel can’t help but speed her breathing up, mind now filled with imagery of said
ass and legs that are now- Nope, she determinedly bites her lip. Not happening.

But then she thinks of plump lips and smooth skin and she really, really wants it to happen.

Bi-rry, fuck you.

Chapter End Notes

Song is Heaven by Troye Sivan, and I added an extra ‘Maybe I don’t want heaven’ for
the outro, as well as switching around some pronouns. Hope Quinn’s coming out
wasn’t too underwhelming lol.
 IV. Part I
Chapter Summary

The one where we get a road-block

Chapter Notes

28/9/19: Sneakily replaces this with a slightly improved version of the original non-
angsty Chapter Seven. *whistles inconspicuously* Nothin ta see here folks. If you
were here before, you know what happened lol, and if you’re new, then well…Enjoy
;p

IV.

They spend the next few days in an almost non-stop conversation, with Rachel trying her best to be
patient, and Quinn trying her best to open up.

It’s hard keeping her prying questions to herself, and sometimes Quinn gets snappy, but they’re
both trying, which is all that matters, and Rachel loves the fact that they get to do this, as if they’ve
been best friends for forever.

After she had brought Quinn home that day during Glee, she had held the girl until she wanted to
talk, softly singing in an attempt to make her feel better, and soon enough, Quinn had explained
things to her with her voice still cracked, looking weary and afraid the entire way through.

In the few days that follow, Quinn talks about growing up under Russell’s thumb, of how his word
was law and expected to be followed to the letter, and how she tried her hardest to become
‘straight’ by dating boys to no avail. She talks about how coming out to her mom was one of the
hardest things she had ever done, and how she had packed her bags beforehand in case she was
kicked out again. She talks about a lot of things, actually, and Rachel does her damn best to listen
and support her.

She picks up on a few things during this time, like how the blonde would utterly refuse to say the
word lesbian to refer to herself, and on a certain level, she kind of understands, because saying it
makes it feel real, and even with all the therapy in the world, that’s still a hurdle that someone has
to confront themselves.

She can tell that Quinn’s not telling her everything though, leaving bits and pieces out, but that’s
okay.

It just means that she gets to find out those things by herself, getting to prove herself and earn the
head Cheerio’s trust piece by piece, and she can’t wait for that day to arrive.
So when her doorbell rings on Monday morning, she grins, full and wide, as she bounces to open
the door, and she loops her arm with Quinn’s the second she sees her, the warm weight just feeling
right against her.

The taller girl looks significantly brighter, like the sky has been lifted off her shoulders, and while
Rachel likes to think that she had a part in taking off a little of it, at the end of the day, she knows
that it’s really just all Quinn’s strength that brought them here.

(“Therapy’s awesome,” the blonde had said in reply to that though, and Rachel’s quite inclined to
agree. “Everyone should go to therapy and just bitch about their lives.”)

When they walk through the halls and pass by the other Glee kids, they look at Quinn with a mix
of newfound respect and care, and it’s clear that while the Cheerio appreciates it, she’s not entirely
comfortable with it, and Rachel tries her best to distract her.

Mr. Schue and the Gleeks all give their own touching speeches over the next few days – Kurt, in a
Rachel Berry-worthy move, even sheds a proud tear or two – and it seems like things are settling
down, Rachel very much happy in her blissful friendship with Quinn.

She really should’ve known not to jinx it, because everything just kinda goes downhill on
Wednesday.

X-X-X-X-X

It starts after Glee, when Quinn’s waiting outside for Rachel so they can walk to class together, and
the brunette’s wearing some of her new clothes.

“Lookin’ hot, Jew Babe,” Puck calls as he abruptly appears out of nowhere, getting way too close
into Rachel’s personal space for her comfort. “So now that these few days you’ve been dressing
better, I just realized something.”

Slowly stepping away, she tries to remain unfazed as she tucks her Cheerio jacket – yes, it’s hers
now – closer against her frame, already hoping that Quinn will come save her from Puck’s leering
gaze and lewd smirk. “And what would that be, Noah?”

At this, the boy starts to smirk even more, and Rachel resists the urge to point out that he’s got
nothing on the Fabray sexy smirk & brow™, simply letting him continue wriggling his eyebrows
like he’s having a muscle spasm or something. “You’re a Jew, and I’m a Jew, so naturally we’re
going to make beautiful Jew babies,” he states as if it’s completely sound logic, and he throws her a
crooked grin. “What’dya say, wanna take the Puckasaurus out for a ride?”

Rachel’s nose wrinkles at the taller boy now flexing his biceps at her with a self-assured demeanor,
and she steps away even farther, making sure to keep a good distance away.

She’s about to turn him down – vehemently – when Quinn barges in, and she almost breathes a
sigh of relief. Finally.

The blonde’s protective little gestures have kinda become a thing between them two, and if it was
somebody else Rachel probably wouldn’t like it as much as she does, but Quinn somehow makes it
seem sweet and genuine, and the diva would be lying if she says that she doesn’t like the flattering
attention.
She likes feeling like she matters, like she belongs, and she feels just that when Quinn smoothly
slides in, standing in front of Rachel with her hip cocked in her signature HBIC pose.

“What are you doing?” she glares.

“I was just asking my Jew Princess here if she’d like to take Puck junior for a spin,” Pucks leers in
response, relatively unafraid of the head Cheerio’s wrath. “You’d be more than welcome to join in
Baby Mama, it’d be so hot watching you two smash.”

“Don’t call me or her that,” Quinn snaps, eyes narrowed, and Rachel bundles even closer to the
blonde’s back, enjoying the way that her muscles are flexing with each move.

As Quinn and Puck argue back and forth, Rachel’s pretty much loses where they’re even at in the
conversation within ten seconds, too entranced by Quinn’s jawline shifting as it clenches and
unclenches.

It’s during this time that Rachel realizes that Quinn always positions her body just so that she
blocks the sight of the brunette from whoever she’s defending her from, as if she’s shielding her,
and it’s with this epiphany that she feels a wave of adoration crash against her heart, swelling with
affection.

“Look, the bottom line here is that she’s not interested, and I’m definitely not interested, so leave us
the fuck alone,” Quinn’s voice rings out finally, “Or the only spin Puck junior is going to take is in
the blender instead.”

It’s spoken with a final and resolute tone, and with a roll of his eyes, Puck gives up. “Fine, but
lemme just ask Rachel one more thing,” he says as he tries to get a better look at her (and
ultimately fails). “Wanna go to the party on Friday I’m holding?”

It comes as a surprise to her, and she tries to figure out his angle, because really, who in their right
mind would invite Rachel Berry to a party?

Even though she hasn’t been called demeaning names or been Slushied in forever, Quinn’s
influence very far-reaching, the little girl inside of her that craves popularity and acceptance is still
very much there, so and when she comes up blank, a familiar shift in her heart takes a hold of her,
and her mind starts whirling.

Quinn wouldn’t mind just one Calc Friday being skipped, right?

The blonde knows how much she needs acceptance, how much she wants to feel like she’s not at
the bottom of the barrel, so she would understand if Rachel wanted to have that, if only for a little
while, wouldn’t she?

But even with that settled in her mind, she can’t shake the bottoming feeling building up in her
chest, telling her that she’s in over her head again. Still…the prospect of it is too alluring not to
ignore, because she got invited to a party!

She starts thinking about what clothes she’ll wear, and what cool slang she’ll say when she gets
there and officially have an in with the popular kids, and her heart speeds up, taking over what the
voice in her head is saying.

“Sure,” she replies in a light tone, and she tries her best to ignore the way Quinn tenses, a quiet
hitch of her breath.

This is going to make her popular, and Quinn can’t possibly begrudge her for that, can she?
But when after Puck leaves with a satisfied smirk and the Cheerio turns to her with a tight smile,
she can’t help the feeling of dread building up in her stomach. Quinn’s face is set in a hard line,
and she hisses, “Why, exactly are you going to his party?”

The accusative tone sets Rachel on guard immediately, the need to always be right pushing
everything else away from her mindset, and she straightens. “We can just go to his party tomorrow
instead of hanging out like we usually do, it’s not a big deal,” she defends.

As Quinn’s face scrunches up in frustration, Rachel fully expects the blonde to fight back with
some scathing words – Quinn’s so far warm and caring attitude has to come to an end eventually,
right? – and so she gears herself up for a fight as well, tensing.

But Quinn doesn’t snap back at her with angry and cutting words.

It’s so much worse.

The blonde simply shakes her head, her walls evidently building themselves up like no else, and
Rachel notices that she’s digging her fingernails into her skin, and that’s when she knows that
something’s severely fucked up.

That only happens when the girl is really stressed out, and the diva’s warning sense pings like
crazy, even though she’s still confused as to why Quinn is making such a big deal of all this.

“It's fine,” Quinn finally says, face blank, and it just sends another pang at Rachel’s heart, hating
how the entire situation had seemed to get blown way out of proportion. “But you can just go
alone, I just realized that I have something to do anyway.” Taking in a breath and turning to leave,
she adds, “And I got a text from Santana that said Sylvester wanted something from me, so you're
going to have to walk yourself to class.”

Both are blatant lies, and Rachel's stomach sinks lower, a nauseous feeling starting to consume her.

What the fuck did she just do?

X-X-X-X-X

Quinn is well-mannered the rest of the day, driving her home as per usual, but she never directly
talks to her, and all of Rachel’s attempts to speak or apologize to her merely result in monosyllabic
answers.

It’s driving her fucking crazy.

She shouldn’t be feeling this guilty. She shouldn’t. Really, she should be mad instead, what right
did Quinn have to be throwing a tantrum over something like this?

But she can’t help but replay the hurt look that had momentarily flashed acrossed the blonde’s face
over and over again during the awkwardly silent car ride back home. Quinn had looked so sad, so
betrayed, that Rachel squirms in her seat at the thought of it.

When the Cheerio doesn’t even acknowledge her or walk her to her door, she feels her heart clench,
chest squeezing and expanding at the same time, and she seems to forget how to breathe. It’s not at
all like the airy feeling she gets when Quinn smiles at her, it’s dark and weighty instead, and her
lungs burn with a need.

She contemplates just continuing her way up the path to her house like nothing’s happened, but she
can’t, a boiling urge in her everything needing her to fix this, somehow, because it feels like they’re
fighting, and Rachel quickly decides that she doesn’t like it.

It sends a strange ache to her heart, using the term fighting like they’re somehow dating, but
they’re not, and the thought makes Rachel’s throat close up for some reason, as if she actually
wishes it was true. She shuts that down immediately, knowing that she would not be able to handle
opening that can of worms at the moment, and she tries her best to keep calm.

Nibbling the inside of her lip, she turns around to face Quinn, who’s obstinately refusing to look at
her. “Will- Will you come pick me up tomorrow?” she asks.

“Gee, I don’t know, why don’t you go ask Puck?” the blonde snipes sharply, a venom to her voice
that the singer hasn’t heard in a while, and she flinches, huddling closer against herself.

Quinn notices – because no matter what, the taller girl is always watching and listening, Rachel
knows – and she visibly softens, though her posture is still tensed, defenses raised as high as the
Empire State Building.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’ll…I’ll be there.”

When Rachel watches Quinn’s car drive away, she really shouldn’t feel like crying as much as she
does.

X-X-X-X-X

If she thinks that the next day will be better, she’s dead wrong, because it’s somehow worse, and it
feels like there’s a perpetual sting in her eyes throughout the entire day.

After driving her to school, Quinn tells her that she can’t eat lunch with her that day, before
practically fleeing as far away as she can, and the blonde doesn’t even show up to Glee, all trace of
her erased and gone.

Now that they’re not attached to the hip everywhere they go, the whispers in the hallways about
how Quinn Fabray finally dumped Rachel Berry’s pathetic behind resonate loudly in her ears,
adding to her already stormy mood, but thankfully, beyond a few sneers and smug smirks at her
directions, the jocks don’t do anything else, perhaps still afraid of Quinn’s mortarium.

Kurt tries his best to get something out of her, but she stays silent the entire day, too wrapped up in
her miserable gloom to even sing a solo during Glee, and when Puck walks her way afterwards, she
stomps off without a word, because as far as she’s concerned, this is all his fault.

If he hadn’t come over to invite her to his party, she wouldn’t have been tempted and reverted back
to ‘obsessive-Rachel’ mode, and now Quinn wouldn’t be mad at her, and the brunette wouldn’t
have to feel so damn guilty!

Actually, scratch that, it’s Quinn’s fault too – it's literally only one Calc Friday being missed, the
Cheerio’s totally making a fuss out of nothing and not caring about Rachel's needs at all, it's her
who should be feeling bad, really, and not the diva, okay?
Deep down, Rachel knows that it’s really her own fault for not talking it out with Quinn instead
beforehand. What makes it even worse is that Quinn hadn’t even blown up at her, which just
confirms that Rachel’s insecurities were all for nothing, and she had just ruined everything instead.

But still, she doesn’t understand why Quinn's so worked up about this. It’s not like she’s cancelling
their hang-outs forever – she’d rather die first, on the contrary – and yet the blonde is acting like
it's the end of the world, and Rachel has no idea as to why.

But what she does know, is that she misses her arm being looped with Quinn’s, snuggly fitting
together, and she misses talking with the girl, moments feeling empty without a well-timed quip or
quirked brow.

She misses Quinn.

It’s at that moment, during her heartfelt rendition of Hopelessly Devoted to You in the auditorium
after school, that the realization truly sinks into her, and without a thought, she marches to the field,
the only thing in her mind being that she needs to fix this, her friendship with the head Cheerio too
precious to her for her to throw away like this.

When she gets there, the Cheerios look as if they’ve just finished practice, and she spots Brittany
and Santana limping their way to the showers, with no Quinn in sight.

Frowning as she jogs to catch up with them, she asks, “Where’s Quinn?”

She expects a lot of things, but after all this time, Santana snarling at her with irritation isn’t one of
them, and taken aback, she flinches as a memory surfaces. You hurt Quinn, I hurt you.

She winces. Oh. It must show on her face, because the Latina scowls with a ferocity that Rachel
hasn’t seen aimed at her in a long time. “Yeah, oh,” she deadpans, “Because of you, Quinn had us
running suicides for hours, and she got unfocused enough to fall off the pyramid, I swear, the
second I can feel my legs again you are going down like-”

“Wait, she fell off the pyramid?” Rachel astonishes, all the self-preservation in her body
transforming into mother-hen like concern.

At this, Santana seems to reel in her anger, if only a little, and she grunts her confirmation, looking
awfully like she’s trying not to care.

“Is she okay?” Rachel practically screeches, glancing around futilely as if Quinn would suddenly
pop up out of nowhere. “Where is she, why aren’t you with her, I can’t believe-”

“Hold up, I’m the one supposed to be fuming right now, her mom came to pick her up already,”
Santana cuts her off, face back to annoyed, and she mutters, “It’s your fault she fell off anyways.”

The accusation is like a sucker punch to the gut, and Rachel feels the air leave her as she takes in a
sharp breath, the words rushing through her like liquid ice. She ducks her head, suddenly feeling
like crying with her stomach filled with bile, and she stumbles back a step, nibbling on her lip
numbly as her eyes glaze over.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Brittany speaks up, shooting a hard glance at Santana that causes
the Latina to look away stubbornly, and the tall blonde turns to Rachel, addressing, “It wasn’t your
fault, Rach, and Santi knows that.”

After a sharp jab to her stomach from Brittany. Santana looks away with a scowl. “Fine, Q falling
like Humpty Dumpty ain’t the midget’s fault, but my aching legs are, fucking puta.”
It doesn’t make Rachel feel any less gloomy, but it lessens the ache somewhat, and she asks again,
“Is-Is she fine?”

Santana looks as if she’s going to make another snarky remark, but then Brittany cuts in with a
warning glance, stern in a way that she’s never really seen on the blonde.

“San, how ‘bout you go get the car so we can drive Rachie home?” she suggests, though it’s clear
that it really isn’t a suggestion, and when Santana reluctantly trudges off, the tall cheerleader turns
back to Rachel, pausing for a few seconds, as if she’s contemplating what to do. She finally says,
“You really hurt Quinn.”

Rachel knows that it would come eventually, because she did, but she still recoils at the words,
hunching into herself. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt the head cheerleader, but that was
what exactly she had done, and the confirmation strikes painfully at her chest.

“But then again,” Brittany says with a glint in her eye, “I think that Quinn hurt you too, but I can’t
speak for you, so I’m going to be Quinn’s unibicorn instead.”

Scrunching up her brow, Rachel doesn’t even attempt to decode what the tall blonde had just said,
letting her continue, “You wanted to have your cat and pet it too, so Q thought that she wasn't
enough for you and got smad, and since you two are like bears and don’t talk, you also ended up
getting hurt.”

“She thought that she wasn’t enough for me?” Rachel’s voice lifts in bemusement. “But she's got it
all wrong, she's the best friend I've ever had, why would she think that?”

It seems like that's the confirmation that Brittany’s been waiting for, and an understanding look
dawns on her face. “Did you know that accepting Puck’s invitation means that you’re going as his
date?”

“But-But I thought that he does that for everyone…” Rachel stammers, infuriated that Puck had
omitted that particular piece of information.

The taller girl shakes her head. “Everyone on the Cheerios and football team is always
automatically invited, with a plus-one.”

“…She thought that I’d rather go with Noah than with her,” Rachel deduces finally with horror,
feeling worse with every breath. “But I don’t! I’d take going with Quinn over him any day, it was
just that I didn’t think due to my insecurities about not being popular enough!”

“And so now you both think that you’re more in the wrong and now Quinn thinks you hate her for
overreacting,” Brittany shrugs.

“But why would I hate her, she’s been nothing but nice to me, and really, it should be her that's
hating me, I-”

“Both of you are idiots that don’t think,” the blonde cuts her off, the words ringing true inside
Rachel’s ears as she huddles into herself.

“But I don’t hate her at all, and I certainly didn’t mean to imply I’d take Noah over her,” she
whispers miserably, only now understanding.

“Does she know that?” Brittany asks, and when the brunette is unable to reply, she tilts her head
with a knowing look. “You both messed up,” she says.
Rachel mournfully sighs. “I know.”

“But that’s okay though; people mess up all the time,” the tall blonde shrugs, and a twinkle makes
its way to her eyes. “You just have to ask yourself what you’re going to do about it.”

The words settle across Rachel’s skin like the plain truth it is, and she swallows. “You’re…You’re
really smart, Brittany.”

“That’s what San tells me,” the ditzy cheerleader beams.

X-X-X-X-X

After she’s been informed that Quinn’s not severely injured and she’s gotten her still worried-sick
mind to calm, Rachel has the strong urge to head straight to Quinn’s doorstep and belt out Hello by
Adele or something equally as outrageously dramatic.

Somehow, she doesn’t think the blonde would appreciate it, so she settles on baking her patented
‘I’m Sorry’ Cookies instead, throwing in an ‘I’m Sorry’ pie to go along with it too, putting extra
bacon on top.

She had wanted to bake both of them the next morning so they’d be fresh, but there’s simply not
enough time, and she frowns regrettably as she prepares the pie beforehand, catching the attention
of Hiram.

“Baby, come look at this,” he calls out to Leroy, “Our lovely daughter is baking ‘I’m Sorry’
goodies, and it’s with the pie this time!”

Coming out from the hallway and leaning against the doorframe, Leroy chuckles dryly. “The pie?
Oh, she must’ve done something really bad. Who’s the poor soul this time?”

“I’ll have you know that Quinn should be honored to be witness to my baking skills,” Rachel huffs
and turns her head sharply, flipping her hair as she puts the pie in the oven. “And while I do
believe that in regards to our little fall-out, I am not the only one in the wrong here, but I can admit
that I am more at fault and quite honestly, I miss Quinn, so I’ve decided to reach out an olive
branch by way of baked delicacies.”

Leroy blinks a few times, and he shakes his head in amusement. “Wow, I haven’t heard a ramble
like that in a while.”

“I know!” Hiram practically bounces on the soles of his feet, before frowning slightly. “I do hope
that Quinn will prove to have better conversational skills than that Flint boy you dated.”

“Flynn,” Leroy corrects with a shit-eating grin that isn’t fooling anyone. “And I’m pretty sure
Rachel mentioned that she was on the honor-roll or something.”

“Shoo-in for valedictorian next year,” Rachel brags with a proud smile, chest already contracting at
how much she misses the blonde but still always happy to boast for Quinn’s many achievements.

Coming to think of it, she had always been quite inclined to gush about the blonde, even way back
during freshman year, and there’s probably something to be learnt from that line of thought, but
thankfully (or not, Bi-rry snorts), Leroy cuts in with a snap of his fingers. “Wait, is that who you’ve
been hanging out with an awful lot these two weeks?”

Rachel’s blush and bashful smile is answer enough, and Hiram’s mouth tilts up excitedly. “Is there
something you want to tell us, Rachel?”

It takes a moment for the question to sink in fully, but when it does, Rachel blushes like a tomato,
spluttering, “I- I don’t have romantic feelings for Quinn Fabray!”

“What, so you have other feelings for her?” Leroy catches her slip-up, an eyebrow quirked (and
damn, that reminder of Quinn just sends another pang through her heart). “Other, more hormone-
induced feelings, perhaps?”

If it’s even possible, Rachel flushes an even deeper shade of red, and she mutters, “Well, she’s just
really pretty, okay?”

“Pictures, now!” Hiram demands in a squeal, “I find it highly unacceptable that we know so little
about her, and we have to rectify that, so spill every detail about her!”

Bit disturbed that her fathers are so nosy – Quinn’s just her friend, dammit – Rachel tries to make a
grab for her phone, residing on the tabletop, but Hiram gets to it first, and he holds it high above
his head to keep it out of her reach as he guesses the password.

Hah, Rachel smugly smirks, there’s no way they’ll guess her password, what with all the measures
I’ve taken and-

“ShiningStarIngénue1218, really Rachel?” her daddy laughs, earning a snort from Leroy as he
motions the shorter man to let him see.

“Oh, what’s this, your text messages with Quinn?” the black man gasps theatrically. “Wonder what
we’ll find here.”

Chortling, he reads the last few texts aloud while Rachel frantically tries to get back her phone,
jumping up to no avail.

Rachel: Santana was mean again today :(

Quinn: lol what did she do this time?

Rachel: She called Streisand overrated!!!

Quinn: …You’ll live

Rachel: I hope you’re aware that I’m pouting like crazy right now.

Quinn: And I hope you’re aware that I only adhere to that pout because you’re so damn cute when
you’re doing it

Quinn: And since you’re not here in person, its effect is rendered useless, so ha!

Rachel: *picture of her pouting on her bed*

Rachel: I wish I could be there :(

Quinn: Aww, I miss you too Rae

Rachel: Bet I miss you more *heart*

Quinn: As much as I’d love to start a never-ending thread of ‘miss-you’s

Quinn: It’s midnight, and while I can function on two hours perfectly fine, you can’t

Quinn: And I’d rather not deal with your puppy look for the entirety of tomorrow :p

Rachel: You can just say that you care, Quinn.

Rachel: Denial is a very serious issue, you know.

Quinn: Yeah, yeah, talk to the shrink instead

Quinn: But seriously, night Superstar

Quinn: The star lighting up my sky, your heavenly voice will sing me to sleep as always :)

Rachel: I swear, one day you’ll kill me with all your sweetness, but I concur.

Rachel: Goodnight, Quinn.

“Oh my god that’s so cute!” Hiram practically screeches, but Rachel just stares, suddenly
overwhelmed with an intense longing for the head Cheerio.

She’s made up her mind to make it up to Quinn, but what if the blonde had finally realized that she
wasn’t worth it?

The thought sends a tangible pain through her heart, and she feels heavier than before, a weight
holding her chest down as her throat closes up, tightening.

Her friendship with Quinn has quickly progressed to become one of the most important things in
Rachel’s life, and the fact that she may never get to hear Quinn’s beautifully-crafted words again
makes her choke up, the mere prospect of it frightening her to a degree that she really shouldn’t be,
and she can only watch as her fathers skim through her photo gallery until they find a folder titled
‘Quinn :)’ and tap on a picture where Rachel and Quinn are in a selfie together, Quinn wearing
glasses and dressed in a hoodie as she beams at the brunette rather than the camera.

They quickly swipe through more, and Rachel’s heart drops more and more with each one. No
matter what, the blonde’s smile is always beaming bright, and no matter how irrational it may be,
Rachel can’t bear the thought of never seeing it aimed at her again, chest already clenching with
the desire to hear Quinn’s adorable little laugh lighting the air once more.

She doesn’t notice that she’s crying – dramatic being that she is – until Hiram notices, and he
worriedly asks, “Honey, are you okay? Did we go too far, I’m sorry, we were just curious-”

“No- No, I’m fine,” Rachel hurriedly wipes away her tears. “I just- Well, what if Quinn’s finally
realized that I’m not worth it?”

She curls into herself instinctively as she says it, feeling like the annoying and loud-mouthed
argyle-clad little girl that took daily Slushy baths, and it takes Leroy placing his hands on her
shoulders firmly for her to snap out of it.

“You’re perfect, okay sweetie? Absolutely perfect.” He resolutely looks into her eyes, a hard gleam
there that she knows isn’t aimed at her. “You’re amazing and talented and kind, and this girl adores
you, Rachel! I mean, in every single one of these pictures, she’s smiling at you, not the camera, and
even if you messed up, there’s no way she wouldn’t see past that, because you’re worth it, and if
she doesn’t think so, then maybe she’s not the person you think she is.”

The words hit Rachel like whiplash, and she sucks in a sharp breath, before slowly exhaling.
“Okay,” she breathes out. “I’m- I’m worth it, and I’m going to show Quinn that. I’m worth it.”

“Good,” Hiram smiles, and as his look turns into something else that the diva is all too familiar
with, she tries to keep the unsettle in her stomach at bay, knowing that she’s definitely about to get
embarrassed.

“So now that that’s settled, can we just talk about the bone structure that this girl has on her, like,
just look at her!” He grins as his eyes shine with mirth. “I’m as gay as Kurt, but I can still totally
understand why you’d like her, her porcelain skin is impeccable, she’s like every Goddess of
beauty ever rolled up into one, no wonder you have the hots for her!”

At this point, Rachel’s tear-streaked face is replaced with a deep red hue, and it only gets worse
when Leroy nods his head solemnly. “Now, while you know that our household is a very open one
and you two don’t have the necessary appendages, we still expect you to practice safe-”

“Fathers, I must stress again that our relationship is straightly platonic, okay?” Rachel stammers,
coloring like she always does at the mention of Quinn (and the thought of them doing…stuff), “I- I
simply just admire her very much, and- and I-”

“Want her to bang your brains out?” Leroy guesses.

Rachel groans.
 IV. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where Faberry becomes happy again and Rachel takes another step out the
door

Chapter Notes

28/9/19: Sneakily replaces this with a slightly improved version of the original non-
angsty Chapter Eight. *whistles inconspicuously* Nothin ta see here folks. If you
were here before, you know what happened lol, and if you’re new, then well…Enjoy
;p

The next morning, when she’s just finished with her ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, taking them out of the
oven to put them next to the reheated pie, she hears the doorbell ring, and she frowns, since she’s
pretty sure that Quinn’s staying home today to rest up. Maybe one of her fathers forgot something
at home?

Taking off her oven-mitts and placing them to the side, she opens the door, brain already running
through a checklist of what her fathers could’ve possibly missed, and she’s utterly unprepared for
the bundle of Gardenias shoved at her, even more so to see Quinn.

The blonde’s face is flushed and apologetic, with a deer-in-headlights look, and there’s a beat
where they just stare at each other, as if not quite sure what to say.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” Quinn finally blurts out, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m sorry for
snapping at you, I’m sorry for ignoring you and being an asshole, and I’m sorry for everything else
that happened and in between, I-”

It seems as if Quinn is about to go on a long tirade, but Rachel manages to tear her eyes away from
the Gardenias now cradled in her chest, and she snaps out of her shocked stupor with a decisive
shake of her head.

“What? I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she says, brain running into overdrive as she tries
to comprehend what’s happening and organize the jumbled mess of her thoughts. “I got insecure
and jealous, reverting to the worst part of me and thinking that going to the party with Noah would
somehow make me popular, and I didn’t think that agreeing to him meant that I was agreeing to be
his date, and-”

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

When Rachel hesitantly nods, a flash of pain shows clearly on Quinn’s face, and she turns pale.
“Rachel, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes almost frantically. “I thought you knew, I totally
overreacted and thought that you wanted to go with Puck over me, and I got irrationally angry even
though really you’re just too good for me.”
“No, I was the one that didn’t think things through or pay enough attention.” Rachel shakes her
head. “And you’re the one who’s too good for me.”

“Don’t be silly Rachel,” Quinn dismisses, “And plus, it’s my fault that I got short with you instead
of talking it out, and if I didn’t bully you back then, you wouldn’t have felt insecure and-”

“Quinn,” Rachel stops the blonde with a firm tone. “How many times have I told you that you have
to stop feeling guilty about that?”

The honor-roll student standing on her doorstep looks away, before mumbling half-ashamed and
half-scowling, “Miraculously, probably even less than my shrink has.”

“Guess that means that I’ll have to say it more then,” Rachel jokes as she recognizes the slightly
embarrassed look that crosses Quinn’s face like every time they bring up her therapy, and she
gently nudges Quinn’s foot to get the blonde to look at her, hoping to convey all the compassion
and contrite she feels through her gaze. “Do you think that I should feel endlessly guilty about
telling Finn about Beth’s true parentage?”

When Quinn says ‘No’ immediately, dismissing it like it’s simply absurd, the diva shoots the other
girl a look, and she watches as a reluctant understanding makes its grudging way to Quinn’s face,
before the blonde sighs in acquiescence.

She knows that easing Quinn from her guilt won’t be easy, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, so
Rachel will take what she can get, the thought solidifying itself in her heart resolutely. Now that
they’ve seemed to made amends, it’s like her heart is freer, and she finally breathes. The fact that
it’s Friday suddenly flashes to her, and she bites the inside of her lips as she trills, “I’ve canceled
things with Noah already, so…would you be adverse to watching movies with me tonight like
usual?”

No matter how hard she tries, she’s unable to keep the hopeful lift out of her voice, and when
Quinn keeps her poker face up, the brunette panics and starts to ramble, “Because really, between
our lunches and after-school hangouts, you’ve basically taught me the entire math curriculum, and
I know that I still have to repay you for helping me so much, I-”

“How about a sleepover instead?” Quinn finally weighs in, and Rachel shuts her mouth
immediately, allowing herself to fully soak in the words (and remind herself of the existence of her
‘I’m Sorry’ goodies).

“Of course,” Rachel beams, ignoring the voice that is telling her that this is going to end in disaster,
what with her crus-physical attraction to the blonde, and she asks, rather timidly, “So can we just
both agree that we forgive each other?”

A beat passes, somehow feeling like an eternity, and when Quinn breathes out a quiet but breathy
“Yeah”, the relief that settles upon the air around them is unmistakable, and it makes Rachel
unable to hold in a smile, stretching across her face uncontrollably as a light giddiness fills her
heart.

She’s about to usher the cheerleader in to sample her pie and cookies, of course after a thorough
check-up that Quinn’s okay after her tumble down the pyramid yesterday, when Quinn adorns a
shy look, a faint blush around her cheeks, and she pushes something that she’s been hiding behind
her back towards the brunette as she murmurs, “Just one more thing.”

Rachel bites her lip in curiosity, but then she takes in the old but well-kept profile of the black
journal now in her hand, a small golden encrusted ‘I’ in the upper middle, and she realizes that this
is first of the journals she saw on Quinn’s desk that first Calc Friday.

Her mouth slightly drops open, and she wants to ask the head Cheerio if she’s sure, if she’s
actually comfortable with sharing whatever is in that journal and not just feeling an obligation out
of guilt, but all she can do is stare at Quinn in bewilderment, and the blonde mutters in a nervous
tone, “Just…read it when you’re alone, please.”

Swallowing, Rachel nods, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to hug Quinn, to touch, and she
does just that, enveloping the girl in her arms and breathing in the warmth and comfort that she’s
deeply missed, the pure euphoria causing her to close her eyes and sigh out in bliss.

Fuck, she’s missed this, missed Quinn, but then the girl lets out a pained groan, and the brunette
pulls away in alarm, eyes widening when she sees where Quinn’s shirt had shifted a big angry
purple bruise.

The reminder of Quinn’s fall rushes to the forefront of Rachel’s mind immediately, and she
squeaks guiltily, “I am so sorry, Quinn!”

She doesn’t give her time for a reply before she’s piloting the other girl into the house with all
other thoughts temporarily pushed to the side, and she puts the Gardenias and journal on her desk
when they get to her room, ordering, “Strip the long-sleeved shirt.”

“Uh, not that I’m complaining, but isn’t this too early in our relationship to be U-hauling this
quick?” the blonde teases, but Rachel doesn’t have the patience to dwell on niceties or the fact that
she’s going to see Quinn half-naked, too worried to care, so she simply tugs the long-sleeved shirt
off the Cheerio hurriedly but gently.

When she sees the extent of the bruising on the honor-roll student’s left side and the bandaged
forearm that she’s sporting, Rachel can’t help but feel a twinge (okay, maybe a lot) of guilt pierce
at her heart even though she knows that it’s not her fault, and she frowns, hating the wince that’s on
Quinn’s face.

“I’m getting some painkillers and cream for you,” she abruptly says in a decisive tone, turning
around to head downstairs. “And I’m making you soup.”

There’s silence for a beat, but then Quinn points out, “You’re going to be late for school.”

That causes a falter in her step, but she disregards it without a second though as she nods her head
resolutely, continuing her march.

Quinn is infinitely more important than a perfect attendance.

Right before she opens the door, she hears the blonde chuckle, tone filled with adoration and
something that the diva’s been hearing increasingly frequently, but yet is still unable to place,
much to her chagrin. “I’ll have Santana on it.”

“Oh thank god,” Rachel breathes, unable to stop her sheepish smile at Quinn’s full-blown laugh.

She’s slightly embarrassed by her perfectionist and sometimes obsessive tendencies, but god if she
hadn’t missed that laugh, because it’s only been two days, but hearing it is like her first gulp of
water after ages in the desert, finally able to feel the sensation wash over her, and she instantly
craves to hear more of it, needs.

Maybe she’s being dramatic – which she’ll admit that it’s a quality that she’s prone to – but there’s
just something about Quinn’s laugh that always catches her off-guard just where it swells the most,
weighing on her chest with a feeling that she can’t quite describe, and she shakes the thoughts
away as she starts to boil the soup, taking the cookies and pie up back to her room.

When Quinn, already back in a shirt thankfully (or not, Bi-rry grumbles), sees her juggling all three
in her hands, she rises to help her without a beat, a small smile quirking on the blonde’s lips at the
sight, and Rachel flashes a slightly embarrassed grin. “My famous ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, and an ‘I’m
Sorry’ pie too.”

“Rae, you didn’t have to do this.” The taller girl frowns cutely, but Rachel doesn’t care.

Because hearing Rae fall from Quinn’s full pink lips once again is just pure bliss and really, she
might just be a teensy, tiny bit in love with her- her enunciation.

Yes, she’s in love with the Cheerio’s enunciation of the syllable, and nothing more, simply with
how Quinn rolls her tongue when she says it, the vibration coming through in her signature husky
low alto, and she feels quite resolute in that decision, but then suddenly, Rachel gets a really strong
urge to press her lips to the other girl’s throat to feel just how the vibrations resonate, and she
flushes a deep red immediately, trying her best to keep calm as she shoots back, “Well, you didn’t
have to get me flowers either.”

Quinn raises a brow at her abruptly red face, which just ugh, sends more tingles down there, but
thankfully doesn’t comment, simply nodding her head. “Touché.”

With nothing else to settle, they dig into their food in a comfortable silence, and as soon as Quinn
bites into her slice of pie, the blonde lets out a low groan, not helping Rachel’s…situation at all.
“God, Rae, it’s so good.”

It doesn’t take much for Rachel’s brain to twist that borderline sinful sentence into another context,
and her breath lifts, stopping right at her throat, and she’s at once immensely grateful that Quinn is
happily munching into her pie, blissfully unaware of the chaos that she had just unleased by that
one simple sentence, Rachel’s face flaring up to an even more impossibly red hue.

Really, Quinn has no idea just how much power she holds, able to have everyone tripping over
themselves to fall to their feet before her without even so much as to a mere glance wasted.

But then Rachel sees a small wry smirk coat pink plump lips, and well, okay, maybe Quinn does
know after all.

It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing indeed.

The implications of that – of Quinn knowing how much she makes the brunette ache and possibly
enjoy it – rise up immediately to the forefronts of her mind, but there’s just no way, and she shakes
off the somewhat wistful thought.

Quinn might be a lesbian, but the perfectly imperfect Cheerio would never feel a thing for fashion-
hazard school loser Rachel Berry, and continuing that line of thought will only end in hurt and
heartbreak.

Even though Rachel’s attraction to the honor-roll student is strictly platonic and, ahem, physical…
and she actually hasn’t have the school loser for quite a while due to Quinn warding her off, and
she’s been dressing better as well now that her closets of plaid and argyle have all been swapped
out (also due to Quinn) though a few of her plaid skirts and sweaters were kept at the blonde’s
instance – Rachel was surprisingly eager to get rid of them after being imparted some well-needed
fashion knowledge – saying that they looked ‘ cute’ on her, and really, Quinn hasn’t shown any
indication as to-

Nope.

Not doing this.

Her increasingly contradicting thoughts are put to an end as Quinn finishes wolfing down her slice
of pie, reaching out to cut off another piece, but then the painful sound of muscles popping out of
place rings out, Quinn unable to suppress a wince, and Rachel shoots up in alarm without a beat to
inspect the girl immediately, practically fawning over Quinn in her worry.

“It’s fine,” the Cheerio tries to assure her, though her fake show-face isn’t fooling no one and they
both know it. “I’m only a bit sore and the scratching on my forearm is nothing; Sylvester had us go
through worse.”

Any thoughts of how crazy Sylvester is or how terrible it was for Quinn to go through that is
banished when she’s reminded of the blonde’s bruising, and she almost-screeches, “Quinn Fabray,
don’t tell me that you drove here with your injuries!”

“My mom dropped me off, I swear.” The taller girl raises her hands up defensively, “And we can
walk to my place later.”

Letting the girl off the hook for now, Rachel relaxes, if only because of Quinn’s nothing but
adorable display of still eagerly chomping down on her cookies even with her hands still up while
talking, the childish action so unlike the normally elegant and put-together blonde that it makes her
giggle, heart glazing over with a warm haze that has her beaming.

Quinn notices, and in a few seconds of time, she’s wiped away all traces of crumbs, scrambling to a
respectable position with her hands and legs demurely crossed as she dons a guilty look, mumbling
with her head to the floor, “Sorry.”

It takes a few moments for it to fully load in Rachel’s brain, but when it does, she realizes that
Quinn’s obviously been groomed for this, to keep in this perfect primp and proper hostess persona
twenty-four-seven, and the epiphany burns a hole in her chest.

It takes a lot for her to hate someone – hate is a strong word, after all – but she’s never hated
anyone more than Russell Fabray in that moment.

It’s why she finds herself blurting out, “I’ll bring you bacon or pie or cookies or whatever you want
on Fridays.” Rapidly blinking, she exhales, voice turning soft. “Just…promise me you’ll never
apologize for anything like that ever again.”

Quinn’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief and awe with her cheeks lightly tinted in
embarrassment, and Rachel meets her eyes without hesitation, an unbending need for the blonde to
know, to understand how much she means to her, that she’s doing this because she cares and not
because she pities her, or because she feels guilty for what had happened yesterday.

Evidently, the honor-roll student finds what she’s looking for, and soon, a small but grateful smile
lights up her face, causing Rachel’s heart to flutter like every time she’s graced with it, and she’s
wholly unprepared for Quinn standing up and sauntering closer.

Even more so when she feels the light pressure of soft lips on her cheek only a moment later, and
the breath is taken out of her, willingly given to the angel that stands before her.

“Thank you,” Quinn breathes out lightly, and the warm breath puffs against Rachel’s cheek almost
surreally.

A beat passes, and then, miraculously, she manages, “I’ll…go get you some massage cream for
your shoulder.”

Thankfully, the blonde doesn’t seem offended by her lackluster reply – is that a smirk? – and she
simply quirks her signature half-smile.

Rachel retreats out of the room before the most-likely flirty comment can escape Quinn’s oh-so-
kissable lips, and the fleeting feeling of soft lips follows her all the way to when she heads into the
bathroom.

It’s when she reaches a hand up to touch that same spot when it really sinks in.

She nearly faints right then and there.

Quinn Fabray kissed her.

Quinn fucking Fabray kissed her, she was kissed by Quinn fucking Fabray, Quinn. Kiss. Her.

Well, only on the cheek, but those three words bounce around her head over and over again, and
she adamantly refuses to think about the butterflies in her stomach and the beaming smile on her
face.

It’s only physical attraction, Rachel. Physical attraction, and nothing less.

Though, that doesn’t explain the fact that her grin is threatening to spilt her face, and that giddy
airiness in her heart- Fuck off Bi-rry, I don’t need you right now.

Yeah, I guess you don’t, the voice agrees with her for once in her life, and Rachel is instantly on
guard. I mean, you just scored yourself a total feel when you suggested that massage! I can’t
believe I’m saying – well, thinking – this, but I’m proud of you, you little minx!

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

I should’ve known you’d freak out when it finally caught up to you, Bi-rry groans. What happened
to the scheming, opportunistic, and sometimes obsessive Rachel Berry that chased after Finn?

She resulted in the fight we had yesterday, and that’s exactly why she should be kept locked up in a
box! she hisses back, not even caring at this point that she’s basically talking to herself. Rachel
Berry pre-junior year was crazy, and well…Quinn deserves more than that.

Oh? She can practically imagine Bi-rry’s brow quirk up in interest. So you admit that you have
feelings for her, and you want to woo her with one of your grand gestures?

What? No! she flushes immediately – oh god, this is so stupid, blushing at her own fucking
thoughts, why is this happening to her? I’m simply talking about the moral implications about
giving Quinn a massage, especially with my attract- physical attraction to her, and I certainly do
not have a crush on her! It’s just that she deserves more than-

Yeah yeah cut the crap Berry, I’ll entertain you in denial-land a bit more, but bottom line is that
you’re giving Quinn a massage, like it or not, so now you’re going to have to deal with it.

Rachel thinks of how far she’s fallen, being cut off by her own thoughts – that quite resembles
Santana, oddly – but then the stark reality that she’s actually going to have to touch Quinn’s bare
skin hits her, and she bites her lip in frustration (of both variations, Bi-rry snickers), because there’s
no way Quinn can reach her sore spots on her own, and there’s even less way the diva’s going to
let the blonde suffer through an aching back.

You just don’t want the possibility that she’ll ask someone else to do it.

Go to hell.

I mean, hell is where the gay ‘sinners’ are, so I’m down with that.

She lets out a long-heaving grunt as she finally finds the bottle she’s looking for, and she asks, At
least can you tell me what to do later? I mean, do I tell her to take off her shirt again? Or- oh fuck,
what if she takes off her bra?

There’s no reply from her alter ego, and she grumbles internally, hand reaching to turn the door
handle. So now you’re quiet.

Her musings are completely stopped and derailed when she sees Quinn lying on her stomach on her
bed.

With her shirt off.

And shit, is that Quinn’s bra right there on her tabletop?

Her brain completely short-circuits immediately, incoherent thoughts just rushing at her from all
directions, because fuck fuck fuck Quinn’s naked boobs are pressing right into her bedsheets, and
shit how is she supposed to sleep there the next night knowing that and not mas-

Stop it, Rachel!

But really, if she just looks a bit closer, she’ll be able to see the sides of pale breasts, and they just
look so enticing, like they’re begging to be touched, and Rachel finds that she very desperately
wants to do just that, running her fingers over-

Dammit, stop perving on your crush!

Best friend, she meant. Best friend, who’s she simply physically attracted to and nothing more.

Said best friend, who’s currently looking at her with her lips curled in a delectable smirk, and a
preying gleam that tells Rachel that she’s enjoying the brunette’s reaction maybe too much.

This is just Quinn being flirty, right? She’s accepted her apparent sapphic inclinations fairly
recently, so now she’s embracing it and testing the waters, which is perfectly fine.

If only the blonde didn’t choose her as her test subject to torture so sweetly.

But then, the thought of Quinn flirting with other people, other girls, leaves a bitter and sour taste
in her mouth, and a rough rumble awakens in her chest, clawing with a jealousy that she hasn’t felt
in maybe forever. Mine.

Shit.

Is she- Does she have a- a crus-

No fucking way.
She does not have a crush on Quinn Fabray.

It’s not like her heart skips a beat every time Quinn smiles, and it’s not like her stomach starts
fluttering at simple contact between their bodies, and it’s certainly not like she spends hours tossing
and turning at night just thinking about what it would be like to be Quinn’s girlf-

Fuck, she can’t believe she’s thinking this, but go back to boobs and legs. Now.

Don’t think about how Quinn’s hugs are warm and fuzzy, making her feel cherished and safe and
loved. Don’t think about how small thoughtful gestures like door-opening and sweet poems written
on notes sneakily passed over are the highlights of her day. Don’t think about how when Quinn
looks at her, it makes her feel as if she’s special, as if she’s the only person in the room that exists.

This is just her blurring the lines, confusing physical attraction with emotional because Quinn’s the
first person to truly slot into the best friend role that Rachel’s wanted for so long – as much as she
hates to admit it, Kurt’s best friend will always be Mercedes – and she’s just latching onto the
blonde in typical Rachel Berry fashion.

This is a fad that will pass, just like when she had obsessively chased after Finn at his shaky tenor.
But this time, she can’t afford to drive Quinn away, because honestly, the Cheerio is the best thing
that’s happened to her, and she can’t afford to throw that away with her special brand of crazy.

“You okay there Rach?”

The smooth velvet of Quinn’s voice brings her out of her inner crisis, and she takes in a breath,
pushing away her thoughts for now. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She tries her best to sound nonchalant and not at all terrified, but it’s clear that it doesn’t work, and
Quinn notices. “You don’t have to help me you know,” she grants her an out, “Is it because I’m
gay? I mean, I didn’t consider that you would want to have boundaries, but-”

“No!” Rachel vehemently denies, “I’m completely fine with it – it would be pretty hypocritical of
me since I consider myself to be bisexual.”

At this, Quinn perks up as she raises an interested brow. “Oh?”

Rachel can’t stop the color that rises on her cheeks, and she hurries her friend’s side, hoping to get
this over with quickly as she spreads the massage cream on her hands.

But the second that her hands make contact with smooth pale skin, all that goes right out the
window. Quinn’s skin is hard with rippling muscles, not overly defined as to seem unwomanly, but
rather in a way that promises quiet strength, with a softness there and Rachel finds endlessly
pleasing.

“You feel so smooth,” she whispers in awe as she presses down on tense muscles, and she doesn’t
even realize she says it until Quinn laughs, and she flushes in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Quinn doesn’t tease her, instead content to enjoy her massage, and she lets out little
grunts and mewls whenever Rachel hits a particularly sore spot.

Rachel blushes an even deeper red, but still thanks the massage workshops she had taken
nonetheless as she likes the sounds that Quinn makes just maybe a little too much, and she presses
down harder at a stubborn knot.

“You’re so good at this Rae,” the blonde murmurs, “Your hands are so soft and not mannish at all,
you know that right?”

Rachel can only hum an affirmative as she tries to ignore the fact that her dreams will most likely
be haunted by Quinn’s moans now, and when she accidentally trails her fingers over the side of the
Cheerio’s breast, she nearly loses all self-control right then and there.

“Your fingers are so talented,” Quinn smirks, clearly knowing what she’s doing. “Feels so good
Rae.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rachel throat, and Quinn’s smirk stretches even wider. “You’re
enjoying this, aren’t you?” the brunette groans, though she isn’t quite able to keep the arousal out
of her tone.

“I have to keep myself entertained somehow,” Quinn chuckles.

At that, Rachel’s heart can’t help but drop, knowing that she’s simply ‘entertainment’ for the
blonde, but she pushes away that thought immediately, because she doesn’t have a crush on Quinn
dammit!

“Plus, how do you expect me to contain myself around a girl as pretty as you?”

Fuck Quinn for being so sweetly flirty.

(She actually wants to do that, so much.)

Still, her breath catches at that. “You think I’m pretty?”

Quinn smiles as she turns her head slightly to get a better look at her. “You’re gorgeous, Rachel.”

Well, Rachel can’t think of anything to say to that.

Actually, she can, and it involves the words ‘I think I have a crush on you’, but there’s no way she
does – her mind just probably conjured the words up for dramatic effect – so she goes back to
admiring the strong ridges of Quinn’s back as she kneads her fingers into the skin.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s a small part in her that just knows that she’s fallen already, because
she never stood a chance.
 IV. Part III
Chapter Summary

The one where 7k of fluff happens

Chapter Notes

Dedicated to GrumpkinVicky, whose writing speed is something I aspire to.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Come on, we can walk over to my place and do girly sleepover stuff.” Quinn walks out of
Rachel’s bedroom with her bag over her shoulder.

Snapped out of her reverie (and daydreams of Quinn coming out of her room naked instead),
Rachel hums her assent with only a slight pink to her cheeks. She pauses though, frowning, “Wait,
you won’t be extra sore if you walk, right?”

“Doctor says that nothing super heavy on my upper body will be fine,” Quinn assures her, before
her lips quirk in a devious smirk. “Plus, if I do end up sore again, you would definitely help me
ease the tension, wouldn’t you?”

Ignoring the now obvious flush of red on her face, Rachel escapes into her bedroom to pack her
overnight supplies in a hurry, sending a text to her dads to let them know that she’ll be sleeping
over at Quinn’s. She maybe neglects to pack a T-shirt and shorts, because she knows that Quinn
will lend her hers, and call her pathetic, but she really likes wearing the blonde’s nice-smelling and
slightly oversized shirts.

You’re pathetic.

Correction, we’re pathetic. If I have to suffer through this, you have to too.

Bitch, if we had it my way, we wouldn’t be suffering at all. Well, there might be a bit of teasing,
but-

“You aren’t packing anything else?” Quinn asks, cutting into her thoughts, and Rachel thinks, shit,
she’s onto her, but then the Cheerio motions to the journal on the desk instead, eyes gleaming.
“Thought you might want to read it while I’m in the shower or whatever.”

“Oh!” Rachel perks up as she places the journal in her bag carefully, almost as if it’s sacred – it
might as well be, considering the amount of effort Quinn clearly puts into them – and she sends the
blonde a sheepish smile.

But still, the glow in Quinn’s eyes tells her that she totally knows what Rachel’s doing by not
packing her clothes, and the brunette shoves the implications of that into the back of her mind
along with all her other raging thoughts for the time being.
She already has the whole possibly having a crush on Quinn Fabray thing going on, she doesn’t
need another internal crisis to deal with.

…Which just brings her back to possibly having a crush on Quinn Fabray.

Internal crisis indeed.

X-X-X-X-X

“You know, I just realized that even all the times you’ve been here, I’ve never really given you a
tour of the place,” Quinn suddenly mentions as they enter the house.

“Guess you better show me around then,” Rachel isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but she
plays along anyway.

Quinn simply hums, directing the brunette to put her bags on the living room’s couch as always.
“You’ve pretty much seen most of it, the study and the guest room and everything else, but I’ve
kind of been keeping something away from you.”

“Just so you know, if you have a shrine hidden away somewhere dedicated to me, I wouldn’t think
less of you,” Rachel jokes, Quinn tugging her by the hand to an unfamiliar doorway.

“Rachel Berry, always so humble,” Quinn snorts, rolling her eyes fondly.

She’s about to retort when she’s dragged into the room, and the words are taken away from her as
she sees the large library-music room hybrid.

It’s clear that it’s separated into two, with rows of bookshelves and an armchair in the corner, right
next to a window on the left, and a grand piano along with some other instruments to the right.

“…This is breathtaking, Quinn,” she breathes out.

Quinn lets loose a little grin, the one that reaches her eyes and causes little upheavals of Rachel’s
stomach. “It used to be just the library, and I came here all the time to lose myself in Alice In
Wonderland. But then when I turned seven, Russell demanded that I learn how to play piano and
other ‘lady-like’ instruments, so he cleared out half of the room for them instead,” she explains,
lost in her reminiscing. “Oddly enough, I didn’t mind learning the flute and violin and all that, and I
loved playing piano, so I guess he did one thing right.”

“He did two,” Rachel says, and Quinn gives her a questioning look. “He created you.”

A self-depreciating look flickers across the honor-roll student’s face, and Rachel’s eyes narrow.
“Don’t you dare say that you’re a mistake, Quinn Fabray.”

Quinn simply shrugs, but it’s clear that she appreciates the words, and she motions to the covered
guitar leaning on one of the shelves. “My tutor used to teach me how to play, and I didn’t like it as
much as I liked piano, but I enjoyed it. Russell found out though, and I never saw my tutor again.
Though, I did manage to hide the guitar before he could throw it away.”

At this point, Rachel’s entirely convinced that she’s only going to hate Russell Fabray even more
with every anecdote that the blonde tells her, because that sad but resigned in its melancholy
expression is one that she never wants to see on Quinn’s face ever again, and her heart clenches at
the sight.

She wants to say something, wax poetry about how Quinn’s perfect and amazing, but she’s always
been more of an action more than words person, so she reaches out a hand to interlace with
Quinn’s. “Play me a song on the piano?”

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, a light smile appearing as Rachel eagerly nods. She moves to sit on the
piano bench, running her fingers over the keys, and suddenly Rachel is very aware of how slender
and long they are, splaying over the white keys in an almost sensual display of elegance.

Swallowing down the gulp in her throat, Rachel tries to block out her inappropriate thoughts of how
exactly can those fingers be put to use, and thankfully, the second Quinn starts playing expertly, all
other thoughts fall away as she watches the blonde glide her fingers over the keys effortlessly.

She doesn’t even know that her breath’s stolen away by the calm music until her lungs practically
beg for air, and she blinks, not really able comprehend the swell in her chest. Quinn’s face is
serene, calm in a way that Rachel’s seen rarely, and the blonde just looks so at peace that Rachel
can’t take her eyes off her, captivated and enthralled.

It’s clear that Quinn loves playing the piano, and as the light reflects off of her pretty and defined
features, Rachel can’t help but think that this is one of the most beautiful images she has ever seen,
and it suddenly occurs to her that she wants nothing more than to experience this every day.

She wants to be there for every beaming smile and bubbling giggle, she wants to be the one that
gets to be crushed in bear hugs, she wants Quinn.

But before that line of thought can spiral any further down, Quinn plays the final chord in her song,
haunting and beautifully tragic like an echo, and Rachel exhales a breath as Quinn turns to look at
her in an almost-shy manner, as if any verdict given wouldn’t be a standing ovation.

Rachel lets herself gaze into those hazel pools of mystery in awe, and she forces herself to conjure
up words. “I…I don’t know what to say Quinn…That was beautiful.”

The taller girl shrugs, looking away. “I’m kinda rusty, but it was okay I guess.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, (and maybe curse at whatever god was out there a bit, because
really, how on Earth did they manage to create someone as wonderful as Quinn Fabray, she’ll
never know) Rachel narrows her eyes and grabs at Quinn’s good hand, forcing the blonde to meet
her eyes. “Say that you’re proud of yourself.”

“What, no way!” Quinn tries pulling away instinctively, but Rachel is unwilling to budge.

“Honestly, it’s quite simple Quinn, I don’t understand why you’re resisting,” she huffs, to which
Quinn scoffs. “Now, say it with me. ‘I, Quinn Fabray, am proud of myself and my achievements.”

At this, Quinn shakes her head decisively. “Berry, if you really think that you’ll rope me into
saying…that, I guess you don’t know me that well then.”

Affronted, Rachel gasps in indignance. “It’s the fact that I do know you that well that I’m telling
you to do this!”

Quinn is obviously unimpressed, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her – dammit Rachel,
focus – and Rachel’s doe eyes are doing nothing. Time to pull out the big guns then.
Arranging her lips into a perfect pout – she’s researched this online for just such an occasion, never
say that Rachel Berry is unprepared – and increasing the intensity of her puppy eyes, she throws it
at Quinn with full force, making sure to add some wetness to her eyes just for that extra insurance.
“Please, Quinn?”

There’s a long beat, with Quinn looking at her warily, until finally, she says, “You’re cheating,
Rae.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises, and she maybe kind of blushes internally, because the
optimal way in mind she wants to do that is definitely rated NC-17.

She knows the exact moment when Quinn gives in, her facial expression changing almost
imperceptibly with a calculating gleam in her eyes, and the cheerleader sighs. “Anything I want?”

“Anything,” Rachel answers without a beat, and though she probably should’ve thought it over a
bit in her head before agreeing, the lavish smirk that appears sends shivers down her spine in the
best ways possible.

“Okay then,” the honor-roll student says easily with not even an eyelash batted. “I, Quinn Fabray,
am proud of myself and my achievements.”

The smirk on Quinn’s face quickly turns into a shit-eating grin instead, and Rachel shuts her
gaping jaw. “I just got played, didn’t I?”

“Therapy works wonders, the shrink had me saying that on our ninth session,” Quinn chuckles as
she stands up to pat Rachel’s head. “Don’t worry Rae, I’m sure that you’ll quite enjoy the favour
that I have in mind.”

“I’m not even sure whether to berate or commend you on your acting that fooled even me Quinn
Fabray, but you won’t get me next time!” Rachel vows, jutting her lips out in a pout.

“Aww, don’t worry you poor baby, I’ve had enough acting in my life to last through ten lifetimes,”
Quinn coos, “So rest assured, your EGOT will remain untouched.”

Rachel gasps immediately, “Why, I’ll have you know that-”

She’s interrupted by Quinn rushing forward to pull her into a bone-crushing hug, and she squeals,
“Quinn, what are you- Be careful of your arm, dammit!”

Quinn doesn’t pay her warnings any mind, instead squeezing even harder, and Rachel struggles in
the blonde’s grip to no avail. “Stop moving Rae, you’re making this harder than it has to be,”
Quinn complains, and Rachel gawps at her.

“I’m making this difficult?” she says incredulously.

Of course, Quinn ignores the sarcasm, nodding solemnly. “You’re holding up the affairs of the
FABRAY squad, which is a very severe crime.”

“What the hell is the FABRAY squad?” Rachel shakes her head, leaning against the taller girl’s
neck now that she’s given up on getting out of Quinn’s (rather comfortable) grip.

“The Fetter A Bolshie Rachel And Yuk squad, of course,” Quinn states matter-of-factly, and when
Rachel stares blankly at her, she sighs. “It means ‘restrain a stubborn Rachel and laugh’, really, I
thought that you ate dictionaries for breakfast-”
“What- I know what it means!” Rachel swats at Quinn’s good arm.

“Of course you do,” Quinn deadpans, before a smirk etches itself onto her face as she drawls,
“Now, since you’ve violated the FABRAY terms of agreement, punishment must be enacted.”

Before Rachel can even react to what the hell even did Quinn say, she’s attacked with tickling
fingers at her ribs, and she jerks sideways in an attempt to escape. “Quinn, wh-what is the meaning
of this!” she demands, trying her hardest not to laugh and give Quinn that satisfaction. “Cease and
desist this right this instant!”

“Nope,” Quinn chirps, resuming her attack on the diva’s sensitive sides.

Rachel can’t stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles, loud
chortles erupting from her mouth. “Qu-Quinn!” she begs, “St-Stop-Stop it!”

“If only you had accepted my loving hugs, then this could’ve all been avoided,” Quinn grins,
unrelenting in her attack. “Now admit that you love my hugs.”

She doesn’t want to give in and looks away stubbornly, though it isn’t doing much as she’s still a
mixture between laughing and crying, crackling so hard that her lungs contract and expand so
quickly it almost hurts.

“Oh Rachel,” Quinn coos, “You should know by now that I’m a Fabray. And Fabrays get what
they want, no matter what.”

There isn’t a beat until Quinn is picking her up and spinning her around, laughing wildly the entire
time. “Oh my god Quinn, your arm- what are you doing?” Rachel’s unable to hold in her exuberant
cries, heart racing in exhilaration, and she grabs onto the taller girl’s neck as she’s spun around,
relieved that she’s gotten a break from the tickling. “Okay, okay!” she laughs, “I admit that I love
your hugs, happy now?”

“Very,” Quinn grins back at her, stretching across her face beautifully, and Rachel doesn’t even
mind the ten years that’s probably been shaven off from that experience, still holding on to
Quinn’s neck even as she’s let down.

“Honestly Quinn, your arm-”

“Is fine,” Quinn assures her, before the moment quiets down.

It’s only then that she realizes the close proximity that they’re at, and her breath lifts, face feeling
all too close but yet so far from Quinn’s, and she stares into hazel eyes in a daze, her laughter
fading into something else, something far more intimate.

Suddenly, Quinn pulls away, though she still keeps her hand interlaced with the brunette’s, and
Rachel can’t help but mourn the loss of the everlasting haven of warmth. (Not a crush my ass, her
inner voice snorts.)

As a matter of fact, Quinn doesn’t look at that happy about it herself, her facial expression reigned
in as if she’s consciously forcing herself to stay away, but Rachel chalks it up to her confused
feelings and wistful imagination, especially now that she’s starting to entertain thoughts of having
a possible crush on her.

“Wanna read books with me until we feel hungry?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence after a while,
and Rachel nods, their little moment broken and leaving an ache there that she can’t identify as
relief or longing.
She lets herself be led to the cozy armchair in the corner, and when Quinn settles herself on it,
grabbing a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Rachel’s lips turn in a silent question, not
sure as to where to sit.

Rolling her eyes, Quinn pats her lap impatiently, and Rachel colors in apprehension, already
dreading and anticipating the close constant that’s both heaven and sweet, sweet torture at the same
time.

She lingers for a few seconds, and Quinn lets out a cute little grunt at the hold-up. Before the
blonde can inevitably pull her down herself, Rachel grumbles, “I’m sitting now, so don’t think
about yanking me down like always with your physical tendencies.”

“You love it,” Quinn retorts as the diva feels arms circling around her waist and a head resting
against her shoulder. Rachel crosses her arms without a reply, jutting her chin away, and a few
beats pass with her still in her diva pose.

The weight of Quinn’s arms and head disappear in a flash, and Rachel hates the chill that washes
across her body without her source of warmth, turning to look at Quinn to demand an explanation.

She finds Quinn with her head to the floor and a remorseful look on her face. “Sorry,” she mutters,
“I had no idea you didn’t like it, I’ll stop being so touchy-feely all the time.”

Rachel watches as the blonde tries to inch away from her, hating the downcast expression weighing
down Quinn’s beautiful features, and she reaches for Quinn’s hands to clasp around her waist
without a second thought (though she still accounts for the blonde’s injured arm), the warmth and
safety that envelopes her once more feeling much more comfortable.

“Okay, first of all, that was a joke,” she emphasizes, nuzzling herself further into Quinn’s lap.
“And second of all, I love falling into your arms…and I really like how you’re so tactile all the
time.”

Quinn’s face quickly morphs into a smirk, and she snuggles up closer to her. “So…you love falling
into my arms, then?”

Rachel groans, and she snatches the copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland out of Quinn’s
hands. “Just start reading, Fabray.”

“But I want you to,” Quinn almost-whines, and she sounds so cute that Rachel has to suppress a
smile, turning the book to the first page.

“How about we take turns?” she suggests, and she pretends that it’s totally not because she wants to
hear Quinn’s smooth voice over and over again, because really, the girl could read the phone book
in a monotone and she’d still get the urge to plunge her fingers-

Anyhow! Quinn agrees, and with a satisfied hmpf, Rachel starts reading, getting lost into the tale of
Alice’s adventures and languidly leaning on Quinn’s frame now that she’s certain the Cheerio’s
arm is fine.

Time passes quickly, with them switching every two pages, and it’s on Quinn’s turn to read when
Rachel realizes how truly content she is, just being held in the blonde’s arms and there, all other
thoughts banished and consumed in the moment with only her and Quinn existing.

There isn’t a single thought about Broadway or New York running through her brain for once,
instead filled with how gorgeous Quinn looks as she reads with a peaceful expression, voice lifted
in a delighted drawl recounting Alice’s adventures, and in her mind, there is only Quinn Quinn
Quinn, as if they’re living in a personal fairytale.

It doesn’t scare her as it should when she realizes that she wants nothing more than to experience
that fairytale every day.

But those thoughts are deathly dangerous and will only end in tears and destruction, so when her
stomach rumbles and Quinn laughs softly, reaching for her phone to order take-out, the brunette
welcomes the distraction, curling back into Quinn’s warm body in an attempt to absorb all the bliss
she’s feeling.

“What d’you want for lunch?” she feels Quinn run her foot up her calf, and she shivers
involuntarily at the goosebumps that arise at the pleasant sensation.

Tangling her limbs with the blonde’s, Rachel mumbles a sleepy “Whatever you want,” and yawns,
suddenly wanting to just disappear into this moment and never come back.

“Rae, I can’t get the takeout menu if you’re lounging on me,” Quinn chuckles but still making no
move to change that.

Rachel lets out a petulant whine, snuggling deeper into the Cheerio’s neck and using it as a pillow.
“You’re the first in our grade, right? So use your genius memory or whatever to order.”

She hears Quinn sigh fondly, and when she feels fingers tangle themselves into her hair to rake
over her scalp in an almost-intuitive action, a purr can’t help but emit from her throat, and she
blushes at Quinn’s raised eyebrow.

After the blonde gets off of the phone, she shifts into a more comfortable position leaning her head
against Rachel’s, and the brunette tries her hardest not to think of how couple-y it seems, with them
wrapped up so tightly together she doesn’t even know where her limbs start and Quinn’s end.

“Sleep Rae,” Quinn mummers, putting down her phone and book so that her hand can resume her
ministrations and her other can come up to rest against the small of Rachel’s back.

And well, Rachel always listened to what Quinn had to say, so surrounded in the comfort and
warmth that the taller girl provided, she dozes off into sleep with visions of hazel and blonde hair
behind her eyelids.

X-X-X-X-X

She’s gently shaken awake, and she wakes to the wonderful sight Quinn smiling softly at her.

“Takeout’s here,” the honor-roll student tries to roll Rachel off her. “I gotta go get the door.”

“No,” Rachel refuses as she buries herself deeper into the creamy expanse of Quinn’s neck, still
groggy with sleep and entirely too relaxed to bring herself to move. “You feel good.”

Quinn lets loose a laugh, and just a moment later, Rachel’s suddenly being carried bridal style,
carted off in the direction of the door. Now wide awake, she shrieks, and at the crippling laughter
that tumbles out of Quinn, she swats at the girl’s good arm, grumbling, “I think I liked you better
when you were in your repressed cheerleader phase and a bitch to me- on a second thought, you’re
still a bitch to me, never mind.”
“I’m offended,” Quinn deadpans in reply, and Rachel knows by now that struggling will do
nothing, so she resigns herself to her fate, opening the door for Quinn.

The takeout guy looks weirdly at them, but Rachel grabs the food and shoos him away quickly,
paying him with the money that Quinn shad omehow took on the way there. “Thank you!” she
calls after the confused man.

Quinn slams the door shut with her foot. “Yup, it was definitely a pleasure,” she monotones.

“Be nice, Quinn,” Rachel chides, and the blonde rolls her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure that the random delivery guy will just be so devastated.”

“See?” Rachel bites her lip to stave off the smile threatening to appear. “Actions have
consequences you know.”

“Oh god you’re so infuriating,” Quinn chuckles, and when Rachel opens her mouth to relay how
exactly that offended her, she’s flung into the (albeit large and very comfy) couch, landing on her
back with a pout.

“Quinn!” she whines, “Stop abusing me, or I won’t mention you in my Tony acceptance speech
when I enviably receive it!”

“I’ve seen your long and detailed binders full of them Rachel, and pretty much every single one has
been amended to have me in it, Quinn smiles smugly, and Rachel feels the immense urge to kiss it
off of those tempting lips and- wait, stop right there for a second. Or an eternity. “Don’t lie Rae, or
the FABRAY squad will happily come to detain you again.”

“I hate you and your stupid FABRAY squad,” Rachel hmpfs, and promptly turns away so she’s
facing the couch on her side instead.

“Fine by me,” Quinn says with an undercurrent full of mirth that tells her that the blonde is trying
not to laugh. “It’s just such a shame that I’ll have to eat this absolutely delicious lo mein all by
myself.”

Rachel counts to three.

Dammit the food smells good. And so does Quinn.

She slowly turns back around to face the kitchen bar-counter with jutted lips, and Quinn laughs.
“Oh come here you big baby.”

Rachel is happy to oblige.

Plopping herself into Quinn’s lap, it happens so naturally that she doesn’t even register her position
until Quinn stares at her with an eyebrow quirked, and her eyes widen slightly.

Oh shit. How did that happen?

Why are you asking me, if it were up to me we’d already be fucking on the couch!

Ugh, stop insisting that I have a crush on her!

I didn’t, you’re the one who’s bringing it up! I’m just the bisexual part of your brain that wants to
bang Quinn Fabray, and plus, weren’t you just saying that you were physically attracted to her?
So no problem!
…You do have a point. I approve of this, continue on providing me with wonderful fantasies of her
then.

Finally, you see the light! Now, I’m thinking pantsuits, leather – faux of course – and-

Wait!

Ugh, what now?

I’m still in her lap!

Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I’m so proud of you, you’re finally taking initiative to speed things
along!

What?

Honestly, you’d think that thousands of wet dreams about Quinn would catch you up to speed a bit,
but nope, instead I have to listen to you blabber on in denial about your feelings, god!

I told you that I’m just physically attracted to her dammit!

Yeah yeah tell that to the part of your brain that handles your denial, I’m just here because of that
physical attraction. Just follow my instructions and you’ll be fine, got me?

Wha-

Great, now start subtly grinding into her, I’m sure our ballet lessons have to be good for
something, and then turn around to straddle her, she’s definitely going to like that, and when she
starts to moan do that thing where-

Nonononononono! We are not having this conversation here!

So maybe when she’s in the shower later then? It’s been so long since we had a proper orgas-

I meant not now, and definitely not ever!

Stop being such a twatswatter, it’s not like you’re not going to cave one of these days and get out a
dil-

“Rachel, you okay there?”

She spasms immediately. “Lap!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you do a lap dance Rae,” Quinn chuckles, looking at her with an
amused quirk of her lips that Rachel really really wants to- damn you, Bi-rry! “You might wanna
try again.”

“No I- I just- Oh god can I just crawl in a hole and die and never come back out again?” Rachel
buries her head into Quinn’s neck to hide her embarrassed blush.

Quinn laughs and runs her fingers through brown tresses. “But if you died, that would mean
leaving me behind, and I’d miss you much!” Rachel blushes even harder, but then Quinn
continues, “I mean, who would get me into all the cool Broadway parties then?”

Rachel groans and shakes her head. “Just eat your fucking lo mein, Fabray.”
Quinn lets out a faux-shocked gasp. “Is it just me, or did forever-uptight Rachel Berry just say
fuck?” she looks around as if scandalized and wanting to spill it all to the nearest journalist. “Folks,
you heard this first right here, Rachel Barbra Berry just cursed, what an outrage!”

“Oh shut your mouth Quinn,” Rachel rolls her eyes, though she can’t hide her smile at the blonde’s
antics.

(And also maybe Quinn saying the word fuck in her perfect sexy voice is just really the fucking
biggest turn-on ever, and she needs something to distract herself, but that’s just a theory, really.
Such pesky little things they are.)

Lunch is passed with banter and possibly a little bit of petulant food-throwing, with Quinn
crackling the entire way through.

It’s been weeks, but Rachel’s still slightly surprised when she sees the blonde laugh so freely and
just so playful compared to her HBIC persona, and not for the first time, she wonders how on Earth
she had managed to gain access to this wonderful facet of Quinn Fabray, the Quinn that loves
reading and makes silly jokes and randomly starts sprouting romantic poetry.

It simply confuddles her when she allows herself to think about it too much – which is pretty much
every night – just like it confuddles her when she gets that same old flutter in her stomach at that
same romantic poetry. But that’s just thinking too much, so she shoves that to the back of her mind
and munches down on the last of her food, unconsciously leaning back against Quinn with a
contented sigh.

Fingers automatically start massaging her scalp, and as she lets loose a satisfied little grunt at the
back of her throat, she wonders if this is going to be a thing now, Quinn playing with her hair. The
utter thought is so domestic that Rachel’s sure that she’s going to have a heart attack when her
brain fully catches up with it, but she can’t really bring herself to care when Quinn’s slender fingers
are running her hair and feeling so good.

“Come on Rae, I gotta tutor you,” the blonde’s voice rings out as she tugs gently, an affectionate
look adorned on her face. “I know for a fact that you haven’t been paying attention in lit class, and
you’re going to give me an earful if you don’t get an A on the next quiz.”

Well it’s not my fault that you look so cute when you’re reading and you bite your lip trying to
focus! Rachel’s inner voice whines. Instead, Rachel’s outer voice whines, “Yeah well, somebody
has been distracting me during class!”

“I wonder who?” Quinn drawls dryly, and before Rachel can come up with a suitably-witty retort,
she’s promptly picked up once more. “Now onwards we go, I shall proudly escort the Queen
herself to her study.”

“Extort, more like,” Rachel faux-grumbles, but yet still nuzzling herself as close as she can into the
blonde’s body, taking care not to nudge against her injured forearm.

Quinn hides a smirk. “You seem to be enjoying it very much though.”

Yes, I want you to extort the shit out of me, is what Bi-rry directs her to growl, but she keeps up her
façade of being mad instead, hoping that Quinn won’t notice the wetness starting to leak through
her skirt from her panties. “I have a feeling this is going to be a thing; might as well enjoy it.”

“Do you want this to be a thing?” Quinn raises a (fuckin’ sexy-ass) eyebrow at her, slowly walking
towards the spiral staircases leading to the second floor.
Oh, I definitely want this to be a thing, just imagine, being able to cop a feel at any time under the
pretense of accidentally brushing against her, oh my!

What-No! We’ve gone over this, we’re not going to…molest Quinn Fabray, okay?

Then again, with how idiotic you act around her, you’d probably screw that up too while all we
actually want is to screw her, and you’d say something like, ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry, I have no idea
how my tongue ended up on your boob!’

Waa-Boobs?

Yeah boobs, you ever heard of them? Because you sure as hell have never seen anybody else’s,
never listening to my ingenious schemes…

You mean- Quinn Fabray’s boobs?

Ugh, yes Quinn Fabray’s boobs you dingus. Remember, that day in the locker room? I’m pretty
sure you do, we’ve had like twenty wet dreams about that since, and I think like four hundred and
thirty-two fantasies? I’ve lost track.

Quinn. Boobs.

Yeah, Quinn’s perky and creamy boobs. I was kinda more focused on her abs back there, I wanted
to lick ‘em so badly you have no idea – actually, you probably do, but I’ve unfortunately inherited
your dramatic tendencies, so no interrupting me.

Quinn. Smooth. Hard. Abs.

I can for sure think of one thing that’s hard right now…

Rachel?

Huh, you’ve finally gone into cardiac arrest.

Dude, you gotta wake up, we still haven’t had sex with Quinn yet! Smooth and hard abs and boobs
remember?

…I want it, I want it!

Oh god it’s like dealing with a kid at a fucking candy store, at least wipe your chin, will ya?

Oh no!

What now?

Quinn’s smirking at me! I’m being smirked at by Quinn’s smirkity smirk smirk, help!

What, don’t look at me, my usual solution to everything is sex!

…Sex?
Not this again…now see, when two people love each other very much, they-

I know what sex is dammit! I meant Quinn’s eyes, they’re literally looking at us like liquid sex!

How should I know, I haven’t been paying attention because you kept on distracting me, and now-
Oh holy mother of Jesus Quinn’s sex eyes are distracting me so much!

I know, right? And look at her eyebrow, it’s like the perfect arched degree of sexiness, how that
even possible? Even the golden flecks in her eyes turn me on, what’s happening to me?

Hell if I know – why is she caressing our thigh like that? It should be illegal, downright sinful!

Oh god what is she doing with her tongue, she’s running it over her lip and it’s moving so
treacherously slow, I just kinda wanna suck on it a little bit!

Just a little bit? Stop lying to yourself, we both know that we want to kiss Quinn Fabray like there’s
no tomorrow and fuck till New Year’s Eve, and then some!

I’m supposed to be still in denial, stop ruining my internal crisis, you’re dampening the drama!

Seriously I don’t get paid enough to do this shit.

Look, when this is over with, I’ll get out the videos of Quinn doing sky splits.

Please, you already do that on a nightly basis – vetoed!

Fine! It’s times like these when I hate how stubborn and clever we are…I know Jacob Ben Israel
has a collection of her, we can steal it and burn everything else!

…We’ve allowed him to have such a collection of Quinn for so long? What have we been doing,
woman?

Preferably Quinn.

YOU’VE INFECTED ME!

Eh, good enough, I’ll play your little game for now. Now, ahem…Oh my god! There’s no way we
have a crush on Quinn Fabray, it’s totally not like she has the best ass ever and her tits aren’t the
perfect size at all!

…You’re mocking me.

And she definitely doesn’t look cute as fuck when her tongue pokes out while she’s concentrating,
and there’s no way that flutter in our stomach is- HOLY CRAP YOU’VE INFECTED ME TOO!

Ugh, your role in this is supposed to be the ‘snarky and sex-obsessed personality’ that
embarrasses me but will provide my brain with imaginary laughter from my fake audience in the
background, dammit!

But- But- Holy crap do we have a cru-

(Finally, we’re on the right track here, great, now show time Rachel!) No, we don’t! It’s-

Yeah okay, I’m tired of playing this game now, go preach to the fake audience in your head
instead.

Wait what?

Rachel, sweetie, I’m the part of your brain that’s self-aware, something that you definitely aren’t,
and while I do like catering to your dramatic needs once in a while like also pretending there’s a
fake audience watching our every move, I simply like thinking about sex more and the dirty, dirty
things we can do to Quinn, and judging by every movie ever, I’m supposedly going to help you on
your path to enlightenment, so keep listening to me, yeah?

But-

Mmkay, it was totally nice listening to your oblivious thoughts, we should do this again, sometime
after this century maybe? Now that that’s over with, let’s think about that growl that’s coming out
of Quinn’s absolutely delectable mouth while we’re purring at her strokes up our thighs, I wonder
if we can get her hand to go just a bit further up, we’re already so wet and achi-

When did we start purring, what the fuck?

Seriously, you’ve been refusing to masturbate because Quinn naked pops up in our brain every
time and you’re wondering why we’re subtly thrusting our hips downwards into her abs like we’re
fucking repressed like no tomorrow?

Shit, we’ve been doing that? Mission abort I tell ya, mission abort!

Oh hell to the no, we’re just a few more hip thrusts until we’re perfectly aligned with Quinn’s abs
and we need an orgasm so badly, it’s not like Quinn’s not enjoying it, look at her smirk and blown
pupils!

Stop making things up dammit!

What, like the fact that all you want to do is sit on Quinn’s face?

Ohmygod can you stop making me think about sex for like one second?

Yeah well, ohmygod can you stop being such a fucking twatswat for like one second?

Ugh you're so infuriating!

I'm you honey, and at least when I do it it's for better sex!

Oh, fuck you, Bi-rry.

Honestly, have you been paying any attention at all? It's all I've been trying to get Quinn to do
since she came back from Cheerio camp during seventh grade with boobs!

I can’t believe you! I ought to- Oh fuck!

What crisis have you stumbled into this time?

Um, I believe that we’re currently latched onto Quinn Fabray, and she’s about to throw us onto her
bed.

What? Woohoo! When did we manage to do that? You know what, I don’t care- SEX, FINALLY!

Goddamit, how many times do I have to tell you, we’re not having sex with- Holy shit, falling onto
a bed has never felt so good!

Oh, we’re going onto the circlejerking section of this long-ass conversation? Great, I’ve been
wanting to scream about how Quinn looks so fucking sexy towering over us with her hooded eyes
like that for fucking forever!

I heard your whimper all the way from here, what you thinking?

Oh. Oh! Oh shit, the mental image of Quinn Fabray wearing a strap-on is so fucking hot, I need it
so bad!

I know right? Ugh, her domineering attitude is such a turn on, look at how she’s licking her bottom
lip like that!

Welp, at least you’ve admitted that you like her in a physical sense, the thought of her in navy blue
lingerie is like, probably every person’s wet dream ever.

What? I don’t want anyone else having wet dreams about her!

Rachel Rachel Rachel…You’re in denial, remember?

But…But-

Yeah yeah, I’m sure you’ll get a clue-by-four soon enough and then we can fantasize over her with
no limits – actually, we’re already doing that, on a second thought I don’t want your mushy crush
getting in the way, continue on.

Um…Bi-rry? I think we have a problem.

Bitch please, we have so many problems we could probably go on for a billion lifetimes!

Well- I fully concur, but Quinn’s like talking to us right now, and all I can focus on is her sexy
voice husking at us!

And you think how exactly, can I help you?

How am I supposed to know, just help me, dammit!

Ugh, fine. Say that you love her.

Good plan. “I love-” Wait, I’m not supposed to think that, let alone say it!

Really, you choose now to start thinking rationally? You know what, I’m tired of this, I’m going to
take a well-deserved nap. You’re on your own, buddy.

What? No, don’t leave me!

Bi-rry?

…
God, what happened to your work ethic, you’re so useless!

“Rae, I think you should probably close your mouth before a fly goes in.”

“Gaah?”

“Your mouth, sweetie,” Quinn drawls, her lips quirked upwards in a wry smirk. “You might wanna
consider picking it up off the ground sometime soon.”

It takes Quinn crawling up the bed to lay next to her and being shook in a bear-hug for Rachel to
regain her bodily functions, and she burrows her head into the blonde’s chest in embarrassment.
“Kill me now please.”

“Mm, but then I wouldn’t be able to hear the end of your sentence before,” Quinn laughs lightly,
stoking through the brunette’s hair in calming touches.

Rachel’s eyes widen in alarm, and she lets out a little squeak. “It’s nothing!”

“You’re a really shitty liar Rae.”

“It’s not my fault I’m so genuine, and how dare you call my acting skills into question Quinn
Fabray, I really ought to-”

“Misdirection, the oldest technique in the book,” Quinn catches what she’s trying to do, and when
Rachel tries to move away from the blonde with a pout, holds her tightly against her chest and traps
her. (Not that Rachel minds. Not in the slightest.) “You are aware that you’re talking to the queen
of manipulation here, right?”

“Queen of being a bitch, maybe…” Rachel huffs.

At this, Quinn bursts out laughing, drawing back a bit to tuck away Rachel’s bangs. “Dropping the
F-bomb and calling someone a bitch twice, all in one day?” She grins cheekily, clearly getting a
kick out of Rachel’s misery. “We’re just crossing all sorts of lines today, aren’t we Miss Berry?”

Ignoring her slight lack of breath at the hand still lingering at her face and now lightly stroking her
cheek, Rachel closes her eyes and settles her head back on Quinn’s chest. She nuzzles into the nook
of a pale neck with a soft and content smile marring her face, the fuzzy warmth in the air bringing
her at absolute ease. “Maybe you don’t know me very well then.”

“Well, I’m resolved to try, at the very least,” Quinn replies, sounding every bit as pleased as
Rachel, beaming against the diva’s head. “Now, spill what you were gonna say back there.”

Rachel sighs for show as she suppresses her smitten smile. “You never let things go, do you Miss
Fabray?”

“Why, Miss Berry, I’m appalled that you would ever think otherwise!”

Quinn’s voice is soft and breathy, luring Rachel to sleep, and she almost does just that, surrounded
by the warmth that is Quinn Fabray.

“Rae, your literature grades,” the cheerleader gently reminds.

“I don’t care.”

Delightful laughter fills her ears. “Who are you, and what happened to Rachel Berry?”
 “You did.”

A pause, meaningful in a way that Rachel definitely doesn’t understand fully. “You make it sound
as if that’s a bad thing.”

“…It’s a good thing. Definitely a good thing.”

“You still have to hear my lectures on literature though,” Quinn says lightly, after a moment.

Rachel laughs, shaking her head. “You’re a slave driver, Quinn Fabray.”

“And yet you love me.”

She does. Even if it’s in a way that she’s not quite ready to come to terms with, she really does.

Chapter End Notes

Um I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be physically possible for Quinn to carry Rachel
around so much, but plot armor so hush. Fun fact: The piano scene was where I
accidentally wrote dork!Quinn in, she somehow knew the entire Zelda ost by heart lol.
Of course, that didn’t work out, so Of Video Games and Dorkiness was the result. I’m
90 percent sure that I’m going to write a standalone sequel to it, so look out for that.
Spy, if you’re reading this, this is all your fault. (And I love you and Uly for it.)
 IV. Part IV
Chapter Summary

The one where family bonding is happy

Chapter Notes

Remember when I said that this fic would be around 70k? Uh…I reached that number
today, and I’m still on V, so this may take a weeee bit longer than I anticipated to
finish. I hope you guys don’t get sick of this lol :p

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She’s been listening to Quinn rave on and on about whatever topic they’re on in lit class for three
long, long hours – Rachel will deny to her last breath that the reason why they’re taking so long is
because she’s too busy staring at Quinn’s lips animatedly waxing poetry about To Kill A
Mockingbird – and she really ought to pay more attention.

“-about covers everything, I think.” Quinn bites her lip with her brows furrowed as if willing
herself to recall any left-out information. (Really, why does she have to be so damn cute?) “Oh,
remember not to focus too much on one particular character if the essay tells you to do a general
theme analysis, I did that for Boo on my seventh-grade book-of-choice essay and the teacher used
it as an excuse to give me a 99.”

Rachel barely gets herself together enough to reply, “Let me guess, you wrote another essay to her
explaining why you should’ve gotten a perfect score?”

“Rachel, I’m not you, you know,” Quinn teases with an amused undertone, and Rachel blushes
instantly, knowing that the blonde definitely remembers the incident when she had done just that,
handing out copies of her essay to the entire class, complete with a PowerPoint presentation. “I
simply…dug up some information about her.”

“Oh god what did you do?” Rachel rushes out, not knowing whether to be terrified or humored.

“Don’t look like that, it’s not like I killed her!” Quinn defends, the little frown marring her face
being the one sign that she’s sulking. She adds under her breath, in a tone that’s almost like a
whine, “Though I would’ve damn liked to.”

“Quinn,” Rachel chides, trying hard to suppress her grin.

“Fine,” Quinn sighs dramatically as if it physically hurts her to admit defeat. “I sort of maybe
threatened her with telling Sylvester that it was her who leaked the Cheerio setlist that year.”

“What?” Rachel is unable to hold in her disbelieved laugh. “But we were still in middle school
back then!”
“Oh please, we both know that Sylvester would go after a goldfish if she was convinced enough,”
Quinn waves her off. “Plus, Francine was Head Cheerleader back then, so it wouldn’t have been
that big of a stretch.”

“I’m not sure whether to congratulate you on a machinate well executed or to berate you for doing
such a thing.”

“Francine did always say that calculation ran in Fabray blood,” Quinn shrugs. “I mean, we had to
be if we were to trick a wealthy man into marrying us and handing over all his money.”

Ignoring the second sentence for now (she’s pretty sure that Dr. Flayke will take care of that
anyway), Rachel focuses on the fact that she’s finally getting to hear about Quinn’s older sister
instead, curious and yearning with a burning hunger to know and understand everything about the
blonde. “You don’t talk about your sister much,” she points out.

She doesn’t expect Quinn to snigger like she does, looking all too graceful as she does it as well.
“Oh god, you and the shrink are so similar it’s uncanny,” she explains as she calms down. “That
was literally one of the first things she had said after I mentioned my sister for the first time.”

Not quite understanding what the cheerleader is trying to tell her, Rachel furrows her brow in
confusion but still knowing that she’s walking on fragile glass, so she hedges, “And what did you
reply?”

Quinn smiles blandly. “I told her that I hated Francine almost as much as I hated Russell.”

Rachel’s not on the receiving end of it, but she still has to contain a flinch at the blonde’s utterly
honest and blunt tone. She tries to decide if she’s allowed to ask, but before Rachel can come to a
decision, Quinn continues on, a faraway look glazed over in her eyes.

“Francine was the golden child, I suppose,” she shrugs. “She was the classic example of a Fabray –
primp and proper Christian good girl, Head Cheerio, valedictorian. It was only expected of me to
be better than her, and-” Quinn lets out a quiet breath, as if it’s a quiet confession. “I tried, Rachel. I
tried, so fucking hard.”

It’s almost jarring, the stark contrast between the emotionless melancholy on Quinn face and the
raw pain in her voice. Quinn’s fingers start twitching, and Rachel grabs the blonde’s hand before it
can even go near her ribs, offering her silent support.

“And you know what?” Quinn shakes her head in a rueful scoff. “When I called her after Russell
threw me out, she picked up, and gave me five words before hanging up. You brought this on
yourself.”

Rachel’s chest tightens as she takes in a sharp breath involuntarily, and she doesn’t even notice that
her grip on Quinn’s hand tightens in fury before she feels a smooth thumb flick over the back of
her hand. She relaxes instantly, though she can’t control her words as she growls under her breath,
“Bitch.”

When Quinn laughs, full and light, Rachel’s cheeks can’t help but redden in embarrassment, and
she defends, “What? She deserves it.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing with you on that point, she’s still siding with Russell and she can go fuck
herself for all I care,” Quinn hums back nonchalantly. Within a few seconds, Rachel feels a warm
body wrap around her smaller form, and she leans into the strong frame instinctively. Quinn
nuzzles into her neck, a smile pressed against her skin. “You’re just so precious, Rachel Berry.”
“Yeah yeah,” Rachel grumbles good-naturedly in an attempt to combat the flush across her neck.
“Now, I believe that I was promised Funny Girl and cuddles.”

“When did that happen?” Quinn questions, a look of innocence that isn’t fooling anybody adorned.
When Rachel huffs and tries to fold her arms, the Cheerio keeps her in place with a wry laugh.
“You know, if you wanted cuddles, you could’ve just asked.”

With one last heaving sigh, Rachel acquiesces. “But we’re still watching Funny Girl.”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else Rae,” Quinn chuckles, and Rachel feels a nudge at her leg.
“Now move, lazy ass.”

“You’re going to forcefully pick me up anyway,” she tries to sulk. (It probably comes out way too
pleased, but she’s good at compartmentalization, so she ignores it.)

She feels a wry quirk of lips ghost right at her shoulder blade, and she shudders with a pleasant
shiver. Quinn husks into her ear, “Someone’s getting spoiled.”

“I was born an only child, blame my parents,” she says, breathy and rushed. A flicker of bravery
rises up in her heart, and she turns around so that she’s standing face to face with Quinn, staring
right into hazel. “And I’m not good at sharing either, so for your sake I better be the only one you
carry around.”

“Mm, don’t worry,” Quinn inflects in response as she leans in tantalizingly closer, warm breath
panting against Rachel’s ear. “I always devote all my…attention to the things that interest me.”

Rachel’s breath lifts. “And…I interest you?”

“Why, you just might be the most captivating of them all,” Quinn drawls, voice the embodiment of
liquid sex. Rachel swears that she feels lips brush against the shell of her ear, just so, and then
there’s a steady hum emitting from the girl pressed up against her. “I gotta give you a fair warning
though, I’m a very needy person.”

A beat passes, stolen right from Rachel’s heart, and then without another second, they’re wound
together tightly, breast to breast and hip to hip. There’s no mistaking the shift in the air, and Rachel
can’t think straight, enraptured in pools of hazel. “When I give someone all of my attention…I
command all of theirs.”

“I-I can do that,” Rachel whispers as she tries to keep her footing, knees week and lightheaded as
she’s faced with the tornado that is Quinn Fabray, hazel eyes and all.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s hand reaches up to toy with the hem of Rachel’s shirt, and if it’s possible for
someone’s heart to literally beat out of their chest, then that would be what would happen next,
rendering Rachel out of breath and with a whirlwind of emotions as she gets herself together
enough to nod. Quinn smirks, looking all too pleased. “Good answer.”

And just like that, the blonde lets go and steps away without a beat, smirk still firmly in place as
she dances away and out of the door, ass swaying. “Unfortunately for you, I have to go change my
bandages.”

It takes Rachel five seconds to realize what the fuck just happened, and it takes another two for her
to compartmentalize it all.

Three seconds later, her eyes widen in indignation, and she calls out downstairs, “Quinn Fabray,
why was I not notified that they had to be changed!”
 X-X-X-X-X

After a firm whack to Quinn’s head and a change of bandages – of which she surprisingly hadn’t
been teased like no tomorrow during – later, they settle in to watch Funny Girl, Quinn providing
her with as many cuddles as she wants.

Rachel takes care not to press any of her weight on the head cheerleader’s injured arm, not caring
about Quinn’s insistence that she’s completely fine, and she snuggles even closer under the
pretense of the throw blanket they shared not being big enough, practically nestling herself on the
girl’s lap.

The smirk sent her way tells her that Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing, but she isn’t a master
of being willfully oblivious for nothing, so like all of the revelations that she had today, it’s pushed
away to the back of her mind, and she continues silently mouthing every line of dialogue there is in
the movie.

It takes around seven minutes for her to realize that Quinn’s staring at her, and she blushes,
snapping her mouth shut. “Why aren’t you paying attention to Barbra?”

“’S nothing,” the blonde shows her signature half-smirk. “You’re just really cute when you’re
mouthing along to the movie.”

That stops her right in her tracks, and she glances down. “Finn used to tell me it was creepy.”

“Finn’s a dick, so?”

Rachel can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of her throat, and she covers her mouth with her hand.
“That was mean.”

“I’m a mean person.” Quinn raises an eyebrow, challenging her, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

“You’re a protective person, there’s a difference,” she points out.

Quinn shrugs, and a devious smirk quirks on her lips. “Still better than Finnsolent.”

Rachel doesn’t bother to appear contrite about her laughter this time, and she shakes her head
fondly. “Yeah,” she agrees, “You’re definitely better than him.”

Quinn’s smirk turns smug, and the arm Rachel’s tucked under tightens. She moves closer to the
cheerleader willingly and goes back to the movie with a dumb grin, still not really sure how she got
here.

But even through the movie to the end of it, as Barbra belts out My Man, the little voice in her head
still lingers, the little voice that’s whispering a word that starts with c and ends with rush, and she
doesn’t even care that much anymore.

X-X-X-X-X
Later, when they’re playing a rather mediocre movie and neither of them can be bothered to move
to change it, they start talking about random things again.

They end up talking about what song would represent the other, and Quinn pauses to think for a
while, before she answers with a cheeky grin. “Stockholm Syndrome, One Direction.”

Rachel frowns and pouts immediately, lightly kicking at the blonde’s calf. “Fine, then your song is
Camila Cabello’s She Loves Control!” she retorts, huffing.

“That’s…pretty accurate, actually,” Quinn says a while after remembering the lyrics, an amused
expression in place.

Rachel folds her arms together in frustration, pulling away from the blonde and turning away with
a loud hmpf, but Quinn laughs and wraps her arms around the diva’s waist, pulling them both down
into the couch before finally deciding, “Halo. Happy now?”

It takes a moment for it to kick in, but when it does and all the implications of that rush to the
forefront of her mind, she almost wishes that s0he didn’t ask Quinn for her answer in the first
place, because dammit, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore her growing affection for the blonde
with every beat and second that passes, and Quinn is not making it easy for her to get over it at all.

“You were my halo when we performed that song,” she remembers, a soft tilt to her voice.

“I was,” Quinn hums. “You really should applaud me for keeping up with you vitamin-D junkies,
and I was pregnant then too.”

“I’m not the one who told me to ‘fuck off’ when I enquired about your well-being,” Rachel
grumbles, and when Quinn opens her mouth, she continues, “And if you give me another one of
those ‘I’m sorry’ speeches, I will give you the silent treatment for ten minutes, don’t think I
won’t.”

Yes, ten minutes is as far as she can go. And yes, she’s pathetic, she knows.

“We’ll see what the FABRAY squad will have to say about that,” Quinn just smirks at her, and
Rachel simply bundles closer to the blonde with a fond smile.

They burn through movies quickly, and it doesn’t even seem like an hour has passed when it’s time
for dinner. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to cook dinner?” Quinn quirks her brow.

“Is your arm still hurting?”

“I mean, you’re leaning on it and it’s kinda burning right now, but it’s cool.”

Rachel narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Quinn drawls, laughter evident in her eyes.

“You’ve been carrying me around all day, there’s no way.”

“I have a high pain tolerance,” Quinn shrugs at her.

“Wait, are you serious?” Rachel gawps, voice taking on a higher and higher hue with each word
spoken. “You should have told me it was hurting, Quinn Fabray I can’t believe-”

“How are you so sweet and gullible?” She’s cut off by Quinn laughing, looking at her with bright
eyes.
Rachel huffs, “Rest assured I’m never worrying about you ever again.”

She moves to sit further away from the blonde, but Quinn’s arms keep her in place. “I’ll cook
vegan food for you to make up for it.”

“You better,” Rachel pouts.

Quinn gets up to go the kitchen, and she’s tempted to follow, but she’s pretty sure that if she was to
witness something as domestic as Quinn Fabray cooking, she would combust and all her
compartmentalization would be for naught, so she stays at the couch instead, already missing the
warmth of having Quinn’s body next to her.

“You planning on reading all my deepest darkest secrets in my journal?” Quinn asks, lips quirked.

“Depends,” Rachel pauses as if to think. “How juicy are those secrets exactly?”

“Oh they’re something alright,” Quinn snorts, before something else dawns on her face, soft in a
way that Rachel can’t quite identify. “Just…don’t mention what you read to me later. It’s
embarrassing enough.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says lightly, to which Quinn chuckles.

“You’re sure of a lot of things,” the blonde shakes her head. “You can take the journals up to
number nine back home if you want to. But only till number nine.”

The blonde’s out of the living room before Rachel gets a chance to reply, and shaking her head to
clear her rampant thoughts, she reaches into her bag to pull out Quinn’s journal, making sure to
handle it carefully.

Settling onto the couch to make herself comfy – she intends on devoting her utmost attention to the
journal, thank you very much – and flipping open the cover, she sees the words ‘Quinn Elise
Fabray’ written on the inner cover in clean golden script, with 2001-2002 below it. If her math is
right, that means that this was somewhere when Quinn was seven to eight, and Rachel turns the
page with a bated breath, unconsciously leaning in closer with an eager curiosity to know more.

Quinn’s writing is unpolished and rough in the beginning, ranging from short stories to throwaway
thoughts to poems, but they all carry a certain innocence to them, light and hopeful unlike the
somewhat cynical and pessimistic Quinn she knows, and it keeps Rachel on her toes, wondering
what exactly had happened to make the honor-roll student the way she was during freshman year.

That thought is casted aside though as she marvels at the pace Quinn’s writing evolves and
improves. With no time at all, the stories progressively become longer and longer, filling up the
pages like no else. Even with the limited vocabulary and sometimes stilted flow that a seven-year-
old is bound to encounter, the stories draw her in, and she finds herself enraptured in the little
worlds that the blonde had built, Quinn’s ability to bend words to her will beautiful and incredible.

The stories are about the strangest of things, things that not necessarily make sense when taken out
of the abstract, but the underlying current of intelligence and curiosity is apparent, thoughtful and
yet dry in a way that is so completely Quinn, and when Rachel gets to the final pages of the book,
she has to blink multiple times to register that there aren’t any more pages to turn, and she lets out a
breath, not even realizing that she had gone through the entire journal in barely half an hour.

An alluring scent comes out from the kitchen, and once again, Rachel has to resist the urge to
watch Quinn cook, knowing that she’d probably jump the blonde right then and there if she does.
Letting out a breath to clear her thoughts, she goes upstairs to Quinn’s bedroom to put back the
journal, and she doesn’t bother to go back downstairs to start reading the second one, instead
plopping down on the bed to go through it, this time marked with 2003, January to July.

It starts out fine, continuing the series of narrative that Quinn had left off in the last one, but then,
on the day of Quinn’s birthday, there’s a strange haiku, darker than usual in a way that sends
warning bells through Rachel’s head.

There’s a loud shatter

A hitch of breath, a skipped beat
The dark welcomes me

Furrowing her brow and trying not to jump to conclusions, she shrugs her thoughts away and reads
on, telling herself that it was just Quinn experimenting with darker tones and feelings and that there
was nothing to worry about.

Blinking rapidly with her heart now thumping at the speed of light in her chest, she flips to the next
page with an urgency that surprises even herself, eyes scanning through the progressively getting
darker and more twisted words.

She reads about hurt and numbness and pain, about how it feels to be thrown away over and over
again, and the way Quinn writes about it is so raw that Rachel feels it resonate deep inside her
chest, a fear of why exactly the words read out like Quinn had experienced it first-hand running
amok through her mind.

Russell wouldn’t have- no way. He wouldn’t.

But a large chunk of the writing is about volatile men and little girls who couldn’t protect
themselves, and it honestly scares her, to think that Russell would’ve laid a hand on-

No, she thinks, Stop that train of thought right the fucking now.

When she gets to the story about how a girl named Alice was beaten by her father and left all alone
in a field, dying alone with her last thought being that this could’ve all been avoided if she was just
good enough, she can’t deny it anymore.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

This story takes up a lot of pages, and when she finishes it, there’s only the last page left. Tasting
the bitter copper of her blood on her lips, she realizes that she had bitten down on her lip so hard
she had broke skin, and running her tongue over the offended skin, she tries her best to regulate her
breathing and turns the page, only to be met with a single haiku.

If science is love
Then calculation was wrong
God’s biggest mistake

In the two journals Rachel had read, Quinn had never mentioned anything about God. The same
Quinn, who said that losing her faith was one of her first breaking points.

Without a second beat, she’s rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen, the journal held up in her
hand as she looks at Quinn, breathless. “What is this?”

Quinn freezes, before her face arranges itself into a neutral expression. “You’re going to have to be
more specific, Rachel.”

“Don’t stall,” she says, shaking her head. “Please.”

Pursing her lips, after a beat Quinn finally gives her a small nod. “That year, when I turned 9,
Francine left for University…And then, I guess without her there, Russell set his sights on me
completely.” The blonde swallows and hesitates here, debating if she should continue or not. “On
my ninth birthday, he got a bit more drunk than usual, and he became…violent.”

The words seem to bring time to a halt, and the color drains from Rachel’s face. “Quinn.”

When the cheerleader doesn’t reply, looking away instead with an unreadable expression that
seems resentful and embarrassed and just plain sad all at once, Rachel can’t seem to get her
thoughts straight. “Quinn,” she pleads, begs. “Tell me he didn’t.”

The blonde curls into herself, and she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Quinn Fabray don’t you dare be sorry for that!” She snaps her head up immediately to force hazel
to meet chestnut brown. “I-I need to know. Please.”

Quinn’s face contorts into something raw and pained, and Rachel almost regrets asking, heart
aching for the girl. “Once or twice a year,” she admits. “But it was only a few punches and slaps,
nothing out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” Rachel can barely see apart from the red clouding her vision. “He abused you!”

“Drop it, Rachel!” Quinn snaps, eyes shining and vulnerable. “Just…drop it, Rachel. For me,
okay?”

Rachel can only nod, heart still thundering in her ribcage loudly. “You’re right,” she says, “I’m
sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“Rae no, you didn’t- It’s just-” Quinn shakes her head furiously, tone frustrated. “Look, I promised
you that I’d tell you everything one day, but I-I can’t- I just can’t right now.”

She feels her chest simultaneously expand and contract as it pangs with pain at the sight of the
cheerleader looking so distraught. “Okay,” she says finally, breathing out through her nose. “Okay.
But…can I hug you?”

Quinn surprises them both with a laugh. “You make it sound like you’re the one who’s in
emotional distress.”

“Your emotional distress is my emotional distress,” Rachel shrugs, and the implications of that
don’t occur to her until she’s said it out loud and Quinn’s staring at her with wide eyes.

The next thing she knows, she’s being wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug and she barely has
enough time to remind the blonde to watch out for her arm before a kiss is pressed to the top of her
head. “You’re perfect Rae,” Quinn breathes out, eyes closed. “Absolutely perfect.”

As Quinn pulls away slightly, Rachel can feel her breath hitch, and it becomes that much harder to
deny the fact that she’s utterly smitten with Quinn Fabray.

It’s at that exact moment that the oven timer goes off, and that train of thought is stopped, but
maybe that’s for the best.
 X-X-X-X-X

What isn’t for the best though, is how Quinn’s cooking tastes like ambrosia, like as if Rachel needs
more reasons to crush on her.

Which, she isn’t, and that last sentence was just a fabrication of her mind.

Really, at this point Rachel should just expect Quinn to be perfect at pretty much everything, but
still, sometimes all she wants to do is find whatever deity out there that had made such an amazing
human being and either thank them or curse them.

You just want to find out if her kissing technique is as perfect as the rest of her. But then again,
Finn and Puck’s reports say that it is, so we don’t have to worry.

Ew, I didn’t need that mental image at all!

And also because you want her all to yourself, but denial-land is a powerful thing, I suppose.

Shut up. Just…shut up.

Yeah, our mouth could definitely be better off used elsewhere, if you catch my drift.

One of these days I’m going to hire a demon hunter and exorcise you.

Oh please, don’t act like you don’t enjoy our lovely fantasies, for example kissing that smirk off
Quinn’s sexy as fuck face.

Wait…why is she smirking?

I believe it’s because of the drool on our face.

What- Oh crap she’s talking to us!

“So you remember that favor you owe me? So I was thinking we could turn these sleepovers into a
thing, since you always fall asleep here anyway.”

Woohoo! I don’t know how we managed that, but we’re going to be falling in bed with Quinn
Fabray!

No, dammit! If we do that, we’ll just end up being attracted to her even more! I mean, physical
attraction, of course.

Sure Berry, if it makes you sleep at night. Plus, I’d like to see you try to resist a Quinn Fabray who
wants something.

It can’t be that hard- Oh shit she’s leaning forward and we can almost see her boobs!

Daymn, those look delectable, good luck trying to say no, ha!

I am strong-willed and determined, I won’t crumble that easily, I refuse to!

Hey Rachel?
…What?

Look at Quinn’s collarbone.

Ugh, why did you do that, now all I’m doing is looking at it, why the fuck does it look so smooth?

I don’t care if you’re in denial-land, but I need a little something-something to survive, and that
won’t happen if we don’t get the ball rolling sometime this century. Think of me as your fairy
godmother moving this along, trust me, you’ll be thanking me.

The day I thank you will be the day- Fuck she’s talking to us again!

“Rae?”

“…Kay.”

Wow, incredible job. What happened to resisting her?

You try doing that when she’s calling you Rae and giving you those puppy eyes!

Hey, I’m not complaining, we can finally get some now!

No no no no no no! We’ll probably end up molesting her in the middle of the night!

That’s the entire point, dumdum.

I need help.

Oh, I’m sure Quinn could help with our little problem, alright.

Bi-rry!

X-X-X-X-X

Bedtime approaches all too soon, and as she semi-freaks out while finishing her nightly routine in
the bathroom, she exhales and shakes her head. “Calm down Rachel.”

When she heads back to Quinn’s room, she finds the blonde staring at her opened overnight bag,
and she walks closer to see what the blonde’s looking at.

Quinn reaches into the bag, and with the bottle of hand softener held up, she turns to Rachel with
pained eyes. “Do you- Did- Is it because-”

Rachel looks away and bites her lip. “Yes,” she says stiffly.

“I-I’m-” Quinn sounds out, but Rachel’s eyes snap up to her, daring her to apologize. “Your hands
are perfect the way they are, okay? Soft and smooth and not mannish at all.”

When she doesn’t reply, simply hugging herself with her eyes once again trained on the floor,
Quinn sighs. “Do you want another hug?”

“Yes please,” she quietly whispers, mutely nodding.

Soon enough, long and slender arms are wrapped around her midsection and a cheek is nuzzling
into her hair. “I feel like you’re the one who’s enjoying this more,” she teases in an attempt to lift
the mood. “Who knew Quinn Fabray to be so tactile, and a cuddler no less?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Quinn shrugs as best as she can while locked in a tight
hug, a secretive edge full of promise to her voice. “But I’m hoping one day, you’ll let me show it
all to you.”

Just like that, Rachel’s breath is stolen away, and the only reply she can manage to muster is a light
nod. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind though, and she gently nudges her towards the bed. “Come on
Berry.” The blonde grins at her with that special beaming smile that Rachel’s only ever seen when
they’re alone. “Allow me the honor of seeing how the moonlight kisses your skin, and I will guard
your liabilities of the night, allowing your sunlight to illuminate my vision once more.”

“You’re a friggin wordsmith I swear,” Rachel tries to keep her blush down, but like always, it
doesn’t work, and the bashful smile that tugs at her lips stretches across her entire face.

“Beautiful words for a beautiful girl,” Quinn winks at her, before pulling her onto the bed. “Now
sleep Berry, I’ve been carrying you around all day and I’m sore – and no, I don’t need painkillers
or anything, I’m perfectly fine medically-wise.”

Rachel’s smile turns sheepish, even though she’s already hyperventilating inside as she gets under
the covers, because fuck fuck fuck she’s going to be sleeping in a bed together with Quinn Fabray!

Quinn Fabray, who also happens to be the most sexy thing she’s ever laid eyes on, and who
Rachel’s beginning to realize that her attraction to is going way beyond physical.

“Rae, you’re thinking too loud,” Quinn informs her with a sleepy yawn and a cute frown. “Go to
sleep.”

“So you can murder me in the middle of the night?” Rachel tries to misdirect.

“I want to cuddle with you in the middle of the night, but close enough, so stop stalling Rachel.”
Quinn evidently isn’t deterred, and she props herself up on her elbow. “Tell me what you’re
thinking Superstar.”

The concern and genuine want to help that shows Quinn’s face just makes Rachel’s heart swell up
with affection, and she sighs as she stares at the beige of the ceiling. “I’m thinking that…you’re
amazing, Quinn.”

There’s a beat, and then “I’m far from that Rae,” is the dry reply that comes from beside her.

“No, you’re not.” She heads her head. “You’re always so sweet and kind and thoughtful, randomly
giving me poems and showering me in compliments, and you’re like the bestest friend I’ve ever
had. I just- I…What did I do to deserve you?”

In a blink of an eye, she’s turned on her side so that she’s face to face with Quinn, who’s looking at
her with such disbelief and compassion that it throws her off-kilter for a few seconds. “What did
you do to deserve me? What did I do to deserve you?” Quinn scoffs at herself. “Time and time
again you’ve reached out to me when no one else would, and-” The blonde stops for a second here,
lips quirking up as if she thinks this is somehow humorous. “You’re literally the only person in the
world who would give me a second chance after all I’ve done, Rae. You’re special, Rachel Berry,
and I can only thank the stars for granting me the chance to gaze upon one of their own, so don’t
you forget that, okay?”
Rachel is swept off her feet and left breathless, the air seemingly been taken out of her by the utter
angel that Quinn is. There’s a lightness in her chest that seems to float airily, and she thinks that,
this is it, that she can’t deny it anymore.

All the little moments and thoughts and feelings just come rushing at her out of nowhere and
everywhere at the same time, and she feels as if the swell in her chest is both freeing and weighty,
flowing all over her body with jolts of warmth and electricity that makes her head spin in all the
best ways possible.

“You’re my star Rae,” Quinn continues, blind to her internal plight. “You light up my entire world,
and without you, all it would be is a barren wasteland. I don’t worry about confessing things to you
because I know that you cherish and accept me for who I am, and you just make me so happy, so
unbelievably happy that I hate that you would think so little of yourself. You, Rachel Barbra Berry,
are my Superstar, and I will forever be grateful that you gave me the chance to be your friend.”

“I…I-” Rachel can’t seem to muster up a reply, but Quinn simply presses a soft kiss to her temple,
a languid smile on her face as if something had been lifted from her chest.

“Now go to sleep Berry,” the blonde sleepily sighs out, cuddling Rachel into her neck. “You’ve got
an amazing road ahead of you, and you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

Yeah. Rachel’s definitely utterly and completely infatuated with Quinn Fabray.

x.X.x

Somewhere through the night, the warmth of Quinn’s body proves to be too much even for
Rachel’s worrywart tendencies, and she doesn’t even remember closing her eyes and letting sleep
take her.

But she does wake up earlier than the blonde, Quinn somehow programmed to sleep in on
weekends instead of waking at 5am for Cheerios, so when she’s awoken by the soft sunlight
coming in through the curtains, she’s met with the sight of Quinn Fabray, waves of blonde hair
cascading down her gorgeous framed face and a content smile tugging on her lips as she seems to
glow along with the sunlight.

Quinn looks absolutely relaxed, the usual creases in her face gone, and Rachel thinks that she looks
so much more beautiful like this, tranquil and without a care in the world. When her train of
thought progresses naturally to the fact that she wants to wake up like this for the rest of her life,
wrapped up in Quinn Fabray’s arms, it only reinforces the revelation that she had had last night.

She has the biggest crush on the blonde ever, and she has no idea what to do about it.

“Rae, it’s 6am, go back to sleep,” Quinn mummers into her hair, her voice rough from sleep, and it
sends tingles right down Rachel’s spine and into her stomach.

Well, this ought to be good.

x.X.x
Quinn goes back to sleep easily enough, and after a long period of blinking her eyes and trying to
get her thoughts to calm, Rachel resigns herself to the fact that she won’t be following the Cheerio
into slumber anytime soon, and slowly, she disentangles herself from Quinn, their limbs so
intertwined that it takes a good minute to do so.

It only sends another pang of longing and something right into her heart, and she exhales, heading
into the bathroom to brush her teeth and freshen up.

Once she’s done, she finds Quinn still sleeping on the bed, hugging to her chest the unused pillow
that Rachel was supposed to sleep on last night but ended up migrating to Quinn’s instead. The
image is just so stinking cute that Rachel can’t help the smile that forces its way to her lips, and she
sighs. Yeah I really am crushing on her hard, aren’t I?

I’d say that it’s definitely more than that, but hey, we’re finally getting somewhere, so I’m not
complaining.

You know, some comforting words would reeeaaally be nice sometime this minute.

Yeah, and some sex would really be nice sometime this minute, but look where we at bitch. You
want advice? Okay, here’s mine: Kiss her. Tell her we love her. And then proceed to let her fuck us
until we’re walking sideways. Absolute A-Grade plan.

What? Who said anything about love?

…Great, here we go again. Just go downstairs and have breakfast, I don’t have the patience to
deal with you.

You’re literally me!

A more self-aware, smarter you, that’s for sure.

Shrugging off her internal monologuing alter ego, Rachel forces her thoughts to the back of her
mind, and she shakes her head, going downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

She’s entirely not prepared for the sight of Judy Fabray, wearing casual clothes and humming as
she makes pancakes.

Rachel doesn’t know whether to worry about her loose T-shirt and shorts or whether to freak out
because- hello, she’s meeting Quinn Fabray’s mom!

Unfortunately for her, the decision is taken away as Judy notices her and sends her a bright smile.
“Good morning dear, it’s Rachel, right?” She chuckles. “Oh who am I kidding, you’re definitely
Rachel. Would you like some pancakes?”

“I- I’m vegan,” Rachel brings herself to stutter out, completely out of her depth and frankly,
terrified, especially because she’s barely had enough time to process the fact that she has a crush on
Quinn, and now she’s already at the ‘meeting-the-parents’ stage.

That thought only then just registers in her brain, and she internally freaks out even more. Does this
actually count as ‘meeting-the-parents’, or is she overthinking everything, and really she has to
reply sometime soon or she’ll make her (presumably already bad) impression even worse!

(She doesn’t even bother freaking out over the fact that Quinn Fabray’s mom apparently
‘definitely’ knows her.)

“I know, Quinn’s told me.” Judy simply continues to smile at her, expression something that
Rachel can’t quite decipher. (Damn those poker-faced Fabrays!) “So is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes ma’am,” she hastily replies, damned if she didn’t remember her manners. “Thank you, and
it’s- it’s nice to meet you. Uh…Quinn talks about me?”

“It’s Judy dear,” the elder Fabray says as she hands her a plate, eyes warm. “And you have no idea
how much Quinnie does, it’s always Rachel-this and Rachel-that, I’ve been wanting to meet you
for a very long time.”

Rachel tries not to have her hands shake too much as she receives the plate of pancakes, and she
nervously bites her lip. “All good things, I hope,” she laughs anxiously.

Judy laughs along with her, a hearty sound. “She doesn’t seem to know how to stop, really. She’s
always raving on and on about your singing, you really have to give me a private demonstration
sometime soon.”

“Oh, of course,” Rachel perks up, feeling more confident now that her comfort topic of singing has
been brought up. “I would have to set up an appropriate date so that my vocal chords can be
properly warmed up, but I would gladly perform for Quinn’s mother.”

“You seem to like Quinn a lot,” Judy points out, a secretive smile in place, and Rachel panics a
little. Is she onto me? The older woman doesn’t seem to notice her inner dread, continuing, “It’s a
good thing too, she needs someone like you to keep her grounded. Do you know that she feels-”

“Hey Rae,” a voice rings out from behind her, and within a second, arms are wrapped around her
waist with sleepy movements. “Why’d you leave, come back to bed.”

Rachel lets out a squeak of alarm, eyes widening at Judy’s amused expression, and she whispers,
“Quinn…You are aware that your mother is standing right there, are you not?”

“I believe you have to leave for work Mom,” Quinn says without an eyelash batted.

“Why, my own daughter!” Judy shakes her head in disbelief, though there’s definite lift to her
voice, and Rachel watches in morbid fascination as the mother and daughter interact, bantering
with each other in a way that is odd and dry.

Quinn makes a comment on how old Judy is and Judy retorts with a snappy comeback, but the
most intriguing thing is that all of it is spoken with a definite air of politeness and practiced barbs.
Rachel thinks that this might be how nobles would speak, and the feeling she gets when she
realizes that this is basically how the Fabray family was brought up settles on her chest in a weird
way.

“Mother, I’d hate to alarm you, but you’re scaring our guest.” Quinn’s eyebrow quirks, and the
slight pout in her tone gives Rachel a hard time stifling her smile.

“I’d assume that you’re the one doing that when you’re all but glued to her like a Fabray clinging
onto a rich man, dear,” Judy drawls with her brow raised that tells Rachel where Quinn had
perfected it from, uncanny in its likiness.

Quinn sighs with a faux air of one that of a ruffled bird. “I would have to hate to drag to you
another GLAAD meeting, so should I?”
The mention of Quinn’s gayness and all the implications that follow doesn’t seem to faze her mom,
only Rachel. “Only if you doubt your mother.”

“And I would never do that.” Quinn shakes her head solemnly, though Rachel is sure that she can
see pink lips quirk upwards from the corner of her eye.

“Of course not,” Judy smiles with the edge of it turned in a way that means she’s deeply amused in
Fabray-speak. (Rachel ignores the fact that she’s spent so much time with Quinn she even knows
what every lip-quirk and brow-twitch means.)

“Now, I still believe that you have to leave for work?”

“Ah, you’re so eager to get rid of me, kids these days, honestly.”

“I’m simply ensuring that you’re getting to your appointments on time like a good daughter would,
no need to cause such upheaval, mother.” Quinn shrugs, sounding way too innocence for Rachel’s
liking.

“Well, a good daughter would bring Rachel around more, so you better get to that.”

“I swear that you spend more time thinking about Rachel more than me these days,” Quinn sighs,
and when Rachel looks behind her, a full-blown pout meets her, some of the Fabray mask coming
off.

Judy doesn’t seem to care though. “I like to think of you two as an entity at this point, really.
Rachel practically has an invisible seat at the table, the way you talk about her so much, as if it’s
almost like you’re neglecting your poor old mother.”

“Rachel’s there to fill our cold dead empty house,” Quinn deadpans, moving out of the way so that
Judy can pass through to get to the door.

“The very same house that is so cold and empty because you refuse to help decorate, mind you.”

“You’re going to be late for work mom.”

“I’m leaving now dear, don’t look so pleased, will you?” Judy calls from the doorway as she
shakes her head. “Be nice to Rachel, okay?”

“Oh trust me, I’ll be plenty nice,” Quinn snickers in response.

“Of course you will. Rachel dear, come back soon, we really ought to have dinner one of these
days.”

“Yeah yeah, she knows Mom,” Quinn grumbles good-naturely, throwing away the pretense of
polite banter. “Now seriously, don’t blame me when you’re late.”

When Judy is finally ushered out the door, Rachel turns to Quinn with a jaw-gaped look. “What
just happened?”

Quinn simply smiles wryly at her. “That, my dear Superstar, is Fabray-speech, with most of the
snark and hostility taken away. Fun, no?”

x.X.x
As Quinn had called in her favor (more like forcefully enforcing it by way of seduction), Calc
Fridays turn into Movie Weekends, and Rachel has even less time to deal with her epiphany that
she has a crush on Quinn.

By that, she means that she had screamed into her pillow, cried into it, smiled into it, and screamed
into it once more. She reckons that it works, judging by the cleared feeling in her chest.

Of course, she had made sure that her screams were perfectly in tune so as to preserve her
wonderful voice.

It’s after the third Movie Weekend that her fathers call her down for a ‘talk’, and she’s instantly on
guard.

Walking down the stairs with a cautious look, she strides into the living room. “Hello fathers,” she
greets, ever so polite. “What may I do for you today?”

“We want to have Quinn over for dinner.”

The words drain into Rachel, and she unconsciously pales. “What?”

“Well, you’ve been spending so much time over at her place, and we want to know her more,”
Leroy shrugs. “It’s only natural for us to want to see who our daughter is getting close to.”

A million excuses rushes to the forefront of her mind (because a dinner with her fathers and Quinn
would qualify as a ‘meeting-the-parents’ situation, and that would mess with her psych even more
dammit!), but before she has the chance to blurt them all out, Hiram says, “Look Rachel, you’re
always talking about how amazing Quinn is, and we just want to see it for ourselves. Please?”

Don’t give in, don’t give in, she chants religiously. But then Hiram aims the Berry signature puppy
eyes at her.

She agrees.

Oh you’re going to have a field day explaining this to Quinn, Bi-rry crackles in the back of her
mind.

X-X-X-X-X

“Sure,” Quinn agrees when Rachel asks her on Monday. “We can eat dinner together tomorrow at
your house if it’s fine on their side.”

Rachel’s eyes bulge a bit, and with a desperate edge to her voice, she says (or more like screeches),
“What? But don’t you have some hesitations or other things to do?”

“I want to meet your dads, it’ll be fun.”

…Fuck she’s so dead. Help.

 X-X-X-X-X

She practically is bouncing with nervous energy as they approach the door to her house, where she
knows that her dads are definitely waiting for them. “Are we seriously going to do this?” she asks.

“We don’t if you really don’t want to but…I want to meet the people who managed to bring up
someone as amazing as you,” Quinn softly smiles, and Rachel practically overloads with sweetness.

“They’re going to embarrass me,” she points out, as one last feeble attempt to get Quinn to change
her mind.

“I’m sure Judy will provide you with enough baby pictures to make up for it.”

“I’m sure you were one of those perfect babies anyway,” Rachel grumbles.

It’s at that moment that her dads open the door to greet them, and she groans quietly, earning a
laugh from the blonde next to her. “You’ll be fine, stop worrying,” Quinn chuckles. “I’m pretty
sure I’m the one who should be doing that anyway, I feel like I’m about to be interrogated.”

“Well you sure don’t look like it.”

“Trust me Berry, this is all the work of me practicing my etiquette in front of a mirror last night.”

She doesn’t have any time to contemplate that answer any further before Hiram is ushering them in,
and they’re whisked into the living room in a matter of seconds.

“Good evening sirs,” Quinn greets with a smile, the kind that Rachel knows is her ‘charming’
smile, closed-lipped and just the right angle. “My name is Quinn Fabray, and it’s a pleasure to meet
you.” Seeming to pull out a bag out of nowhere (or maybe that was just Rachel being too busy with
her gaping jaw), she presents it to the two Berrymen. “I brought some gifts, if you don’t mind. I
wanted to thank you very much for raising such an amazing daughter and welcoming me into your
wonderful home.”

There’s a dumbfounded silence, and then Leroy is smiling widely and Hiram is basically squealing
so loudly the neighbours can hear. “She’s so polite,” Hiram whisper-screeches into Leroy’s ear. “I
like her.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Leroy says purposely loudly as if to intimidate Quinn, though Rachel can tell
from the twinkle in his eye that he’s very much taken by the blonde as well.

Taking the bag into his hands, his smile gives him away. “You really didn’t have to Quinn.”

“I wanted to though,” Quinn shrugs in reply. “Plus, nothing will ever be thank you enough for
letting me be Rachel’s friend, Mr. Berry.”

At this, Rachel huffs up in indignation – like she would ever let her parents dictate who she could
or couldn’t be friends with – but it’s obvious it goes over well with her fathers, who seem to have
permanent smiles etched onto their faces.

“It’s Leroy and Hiram, Quinn,” Hiram grins. “Don’t you think that it would get confusing calling
us both sir or Mr. Berry?”

“Then I’ll call Leroy sir and you Mr. Berry, if that’s alright,” Quinn replies back without a beat,
which just makes the approval in Leroy’s eyes glow brighter. (And as for Hiram? Well, Rachel’s
pretty sure he’s hyperventilating from being too excited, so she supposes that’s a good a win as
any.)

Rachel supposes that the last hurdle is their dinner, which doesn’t seem so bad now.

X-X-X-X-X

Correction, it’s bad. So very, very, bad.

Because Quinn charms her parents’ pants off, and Rachel’s crush grows even bigger if it’s even
possible.

Throughout dinner, Quinn laughs and speaks in all the appropriate places, able to banter back
unlike Finn who had just sat awkwardly the entire time, and the cheerleader keeps Hiram and
Leroy laughing heartily the entire time with her well-timed jokes and antidotes.

Rachel knows that she’s berry much screwed, but when Quinn presses a kiss to her cheek as a
goodbye when she leaves that night, saying another one of her signature well-crafted wordshots
(yes, that’s what she’s labelling them now) and leaving the entire Berry family taken, Rachel finds
that it terrifies her less than before, because the warmth that spreads from her heart to her entire
body can’t be anything but comforting,

Well, she thinks. It’s official. I definitely have a giant-ass crush on Quinn Fabray, and it’s not
going away anytime soon.

Oh, you’re just figuring this out now?

At least it’ll be one for the memoirs, I suppose.

Yup, titled ‘How I’m fucking gay for Quinn Fabray and her gorgeous abs’.

Stop it, dammit! And…I’d have more class than that.

Yeah yeah, your prudish ways would probably result in something like ‘How Quinn Fabray caused
my nether regions to tingle by using her feminine wiles and made me want to sit on her delicious
face’.

Ugh!

Feels a whole lot like our sexual frustration, doesn’t it?

I’m going to cut you off someday.

What, like you cut off our masturbation sessions because you couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn?

…Well, now that I’ve admitted that I like her, I wouldn’t be as…adverse to doing such things.

Bitch why would you- Wait, you said yes? What the fuck what happened to you- Actually, I don’t
care, orgasms, YES!

No! I mean, I just said that I would be less averse to thinking and maybe…fantasizing about Quinn.
 Oh, how is that anything different from before!

Excuse me, that’s plenty-

Fuck it, I’m not dealing with this shit.

Bi-rry, don’t you dare walk away from me metaphorically!

Bi-rry?

Bi-rry!

Dammit.

Chapter End Notes

This is literally longer than the entirety of II. Damn I feel accomplished rn *checks
ForForever19’s epic fics* …you know what, never mind, this chapter felt stilted to me
anyways. I’m sorry for the late-ish update, editing took waaay too long.
 V. Part I
Chapter Summary

The one where St. Jackass shows up and we all wanna burn Russie boi on a stick. I
don't even know lol

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

V.

Quinn’s streak of possessiveness slash protectiveness just grows from there, and between Finn,
Karofsky, Cheerios, Finn, Puck, and Finn, Rachel kinda loses track of all of the times that it
happens.

One thing that doesn’t change though, is how horny she gets every time. Neither does the
confusiom part either, because now she’s going crazy thinking if it actually means something and
she’s been stressing out all day long.

She starts reading into Quinn’s little thoughtful actions like no tomorrow, even more so than
before, and now that she’s so much more aware of her heightened feelings, it’s like everything is
worse and yet better at the same time, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to die from blushing at
Quinn’s flirty responses at this rate.

And speaking of which, remember those Gardenias that Quinn gave her? After putting them in a
vase with fresh water, she looked them up.

It fucking means ‘secret love’.

Yeah, having a crush on Quinn Fabray is hard, man.

So when Jesse St. James shows up one day with flowers (that aren’t Gardenias) and a plea for
forgiveness, she figures that it wouldn’t hurt, just to see if she could get over the blonde.

She lets the boy take her on a date, and it results in…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It’s a causal date, just simply meeting at Breadstix to get some food (or in Rachel’s case, salad,
salad, and more salad), and with every move Jesse makes, she can’t help but compare it to what
Quinn would do in that situation.

Even though Jesse opens the door for her, he doesn’t go the extra mile and pull out her chair,
something that Quinn does all the time, even at school, and it’s the first thought that pops into her
brain when she sees that.

Well, so much for hoping this crush would fade away soon.

After ordering her salad, she listens to Jesse drone on a long-winded speech of apologies and
forgiveness, and she thinks that at least he doesn’t seem like an arrogant stuck up jerk anymore, but
then after that’s done, he seems to glide right over to talking about himself.

Rachel fully knows that she too has a tendency to do that, so she tries to push that away, knowing
that she’s probably putting too high of a standard on the boy now that she’s gotten used to Quinn’s
pampering. She tries to shift the topic to something they both like, like how their vocal training and
Broadway is going, and that seems to do the trick as they exchange pleasantries.

It’s fun for a few minutes, the excitement and thrill that discussing Broadway always brings her
rushing through her veins, and she throws herself full-heartedly into the conversation, hoping that
this can bridge the gap between her comparisons and fill the giant Quinn-shaped hole in her
wishlist.

But when they’ve seemed to exhaust all their opinions, seeming to repeat the same topics and
things over and over again, that pesky little voice in her head reminds her of how much she misses
Quinn, of how much she misses her company, always pleasant no matter what, and it sends a sharp
pain to her chest.

That’s exactly why I have to do this, so that I can get over her, she thinks, with a resoluteness that
feels forced.

(Deep down, she knows that she doesn’t want to get over the blonde at all, but Jesse’s right there,
and he’s attainable, so she shoves it even further down her heart and puts on a show smile for the
boy.)

Biting her lip, she asks Jesse about his other aspirations and life goals, and he simply blinks at her,
a peculiar look dawned on his face. “Why would I need to have anything more than the stage?”

The words echo into her heart, and an epiphany hits her. That used to be all she wanted too, but…
somewhere along the way, her dreams of the stage expanded.

Because now, her dreams don’t just consist of a Broadway stage and an adoring audience. They
consist of Quinn cheering her on too, and they consist of visions of Quinn telling her how great she
was after the show and taking her home so that they could spend the rest of the night peacefully.

And when she looks deeper down, she realizes that – shit, they also consist of Quinn saying three
important words to her, and a small face looking up at them and calling them-

Fuck, stop right there. She can’t do this right now.

Continuing to breathe out through her nose in an attempt her calm her suddenly racing heart, she
forces herself to chuckle at Jesse’s answer and agree. But then, it’s like something takes a hold of
her, and against her better judgement, she finds herself asking, “But…don’t you have other things
you value? Like- Like love, or family, or- or just happiness?”

She prays that Jesse won’t fail her. She prays, and she prays, because Quinn had told her that all
she wanted was to be happy by making the people she loved happy, and now that conversation
plays every night in her head, mocking her and taunting her.

“Rachel, you know even more well than me that the stage is everything,” Jesse replies with a look
of confusion in his eyes. “Why would you want anything else?” He continues to stare at her
strangely, and he snaps his fingers after a beat. “You know, you’ve changed Rachel. I can’t quite
put my finger on it, but…there’s something different about you.”

Rachel heart drops immediately and her chest collapses on itself, because she knows the answer.
Her change was Quinn. Quinn had come into her life, caused her dreams to shift to accommodate
shining hazel eyes, and now because of that, she wants to be happy with Quinn as much as she
wants Broadway.

(Maybe even more, but then her stomach feels funny and she feels her throat close up.)

It’s then that she finishes poking at her salad and requests to go home, with a resignation in her
mind.

Jesse isn’t Quinn, and Quinn is all she wants.

X-X-X-X-X

At the end of the night, when she gets back home with a heart feeling nothing but a sense of
heaviness and longing for the blonde, it occurs to her loud and clear, and she spends thirty minutes
repeating her scream, cry, smile, and scream again routine. It’s becoming very therapeutic, to her
great surprise.

How about you pretend that the pillow is Quinn and kiss it all day long?

Oh har har.

But seriously, why would we settle for Jesse when we could have Quinn?

We can’t have her, that’s the point.

Says you bitch, have you seen how she gets all hot and sexy when she’s protective over us?

She’s just- She’s just very loyal to her own, that’s all.

Yes, because you’ve seen Quinn do that for Santana Lopez.

I’m ignoring you now.

Just like you ignore all the obvious signs? Great.

Tossing and turning in her bed again, she screams into the pillow once more.

You might wanna book an appointment for ‘My Strange Addiction’.

Don’t be silly, I don’t have an addiction to my pillow.

I was talking about Quinn, dumdum.

I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.

Says the girl who’s wearing Quinn’s clothes that we stole last time so we can smell her faintly on
it.

Bitch.
Right back at ya.

X-X-X-X-X

Life goes on as usual. Smiling because of Quinn, crying because of Quinn, and screaming because
of Quinn. All very standard Rachel Berry reactions, so it’s nothing really to worry about.

It’s almost expected of her to fall in love with the blonde with every moment and beat that passes,
because it’s almost like Quinn is slowly upping the ante, with flowers (that are always fucking
Gardenias) and poems (that are always fucking about love) recited to her at every turn.

What isn’t expected, however, is how Jesse comes to meet her after school, asking to talk to her
alone.

It happens on a Friday, which just pisses her off even more, because Friday is Quinn and Rachel
day dammit, and she’s already been trying to limit their time together since she knows that she’ll
just end up falling for the blonde even more with more exposure to her.

Of course, her not-so-determined attempts to do so haven’t really carried or gone through well,
what with her and Quinn attached to the hip practically all the time, and well – she can’t really
bring herself to distance herself from the Cheerio.

Plus, it’s like something has been on Quinn’s mind the entire day, with no amount of gentle
prodding working, and she just can’t stay away from the blonde when she’s like that without
offering as much comfort as she can.

Here, she vaguely hears Bi-rry snort with a loud crackle, and she pouts without realizing she’s
doing it. You try saying no to her.

Why would I? As far as I’m concerned, if she asked us to ride her face I would say yes in a
heartbeat.

You know, now that you’ve accepted your feelings for her, you’re allowed to fantasize more about
her.

Dammit, it’s inappropriate, alright?

Oh please, like you’re not imagining sitting on her face right this moment.

Told you.

“Rae where did you go there for a second?” Quinn’s amused yet fond voice rings out, and she lets
out a little jump of surprise.

“It’s nothing!” she yelps, neck red and cheeks flushed.

“Mm, I’m sure,” Quinn hums, and damn, did Quinn’s voice always sound like that? Like liquid sex
and cream and just a fucking turn-on?
Yes.

…We’re going to have a hard time getting over her, aren’t we?

Speak for yourself bitch, I’m never getting over her and her magical fingers, have you forgotten
how they ran over the piano keys so fucking sexily that day? Those fingers can touch m-

Bi-rry!

Whaaat? We have a crush on her, it’s normal to think these things! It’s not like we’re going to stop
anytime soon, so stop being such a twatswat even in your brain.

Well…we might as well get some bang for our buck, I suppose.

If I had it my way, we definitely would be banging by now, but I’m pretty sure you’re still in the
‘she’ll never want me’ phase, so I’ll save that for later.

Yep, you just compartmentalized that, didn’t you?

…I’m ignoring you now.

Eh, might as well, I’m quite enjoying the feeling of Quinn’s fingers at the small of our back and her
sexy-ass eyes staring into ours. Oh yeah, you might wanna say something now, I’m pretty sure we
look stupid as fuck with our eyes glazed over and our mouth gaping open.

“Jesse?”

Why the fuck did you just say that Rachel?

No seriously, Jesse’s right there.

What?

Ha, you’re the one who’s clueless now, I get why you like being more aware, it feels so good!

Yeah well, speaking of being aware, he’s currently walking right towards us, so you better think up
a game-plan soon.

Oh shit, help me!

Dammit you’re useless, Bi-rry!

“Rachel?” Quinn asks with bemused eyes, with a small edge to her voice that might be annoyance.

She can only bring herself to nod her head towards the direction behind the blonde, and it’s exactly
when Quinn looks behind her that Jesse speaks with what’s his ‘charming’ smile. “Hello ladies.”

Before Rachel can answer, Quinn is already sliding into position, angling the brunette behind her.
“Why are you here, St. James?” she growls, protective streak clearly kicking in.

“I just wanted to speak to Rachel.” Jesse shrugs, before sending her a pointed look. “Preferably
alone.”
“No way in hell are you doing that,” Quinn snaps without a beat. “Who’s to say that you won’t just
egg her again?”

Rachel bites her lip at the reminder, and Quinn notices her discomfort immediately, moving to
grasp her hand in hers. With that, she turns to Jesse with her scowl even wider than before. “Now
fuck off, St. James.”

Jesse, for his part, doesn’t look all that intimidated, and he crosses his arms petulantly. “I’m not
leaving till I can talk to Rachel, and you know that I’ll find a way to eventually.”

Quinn’s about to retort, the glint in her eyes telling Rachel that is this probably only going to
escalate if she doesn’t do anything, and she reluctantly squeezes the blonde’s hand to gain her
attention. “Quinn,” she sighs. “I’ll go hear him out.”

Quinn sends her an Are you serious? look, but Rachel gestures to Jesse, who doesn’t seem to be
deterred at all, simply standing there with an expectant look on his face that seems way too
arrogant for her liking. “If I don’t come back in a minute, please come save me.”

“I have a better idea, how about we ignore him altogether?” Quinn says with a dark edge to her
voice, even with more bite than usual, and Rachel feels like this is important somehow, but she has
to focus on the task at hand first.

“You know I have to, or else he’ll never leave.”

“Just know that I’m watching him Berry,” Quinn finally agrees, jaw set in an irritable line.

“I’d much prefer that you watch me, but okay,” Rachel tries her best to brighten the situation, and
it works somewhat, Quinn letting go of her hand with a grunt.

“I want extra cuddles when we go home Rae,” she grumbles, seeming to light up a bit.

Rachel chuckles, her heart skipping pass a few beats at the thought even though it’ll probably be
torturous for her crush on the blonde. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she promises, before moving to walk
towards where Jesse had walked to, a far corner of the car park but still in Quinn’s line of sight.

“Took you long enough,” the boy huffs with his nose wrinkled. “I almost forgot how much I hated
this school’s nasty smell.”

Rachel’s face contorts, regretting taking his offer for a date even more now that he seems to want
more. “I thought I had made it clear that night Jesse, but I’m simply not interested in you
anymore,” she tries to explain, wanting to get this over with as quickly as she can. “So I’d be
grateful it if you would just leave me alone, and maybe we could be friends one day.”

“Look Rachel, I know how much you enjoy your romantic gestures, and you seem to be playing
the hard-to-get card, which I admire vastly,” Jesse replies as if he hadn’t heard her previous
statement. “I have already prepared to court you by showing up here after school every day, and
while I can appreciate the drama of this, I simply do not think that it is befitting of someone of my
class to court you for an extended period of time without gaining some reward, so this could be
over with a whole less hassle if you would just agree to let me be your leading man.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Quinn looking at them with narrowed eyes full with
concern and worry, though she can certainly see the blonde’s protectiveness making its way there,
and not wanting to waste more of her Friday on placating Jesse, she turns to the boy and says,
“Jesse, I assure you that I am not playing the hard-to-get card. It’s just that at best, I just don’t feel
anything for you anymore, and it would only lead to failure if you waste your time on this endeavor
of yours to get me to become your girlfriend again. Please do not come find me again.”

With that said and done, she turns and walks away from the boy with her hair flipping nicely in the
wind, heading back to Quinn, who seems to be getting more and more fidgety with every second.

“What did he want?” the blonde asks immediately once she’s in hearing range, moving forward to
interlope their arms.

“It’s nothing.” Rachel shakes her head, and she sees that Quinn very obviously wants to ask further,
looking at her with suspicion shining bright in her eyes, but she lets it go after a moment with a
grunt, something else clouding over it.

“Come on, I want to get home so we can watch more Buffy,” she says instead before Rachel can
dwell any further, opening the car door for Rachel to enter. “And of course, I was promised
cuddles.”

“Mm, cuddles are very important,” she agrees, and then she forgets about Jesse, because Quinn is
telling her a joke that makes her laugh so hard her stomach hurts.

X-X-X-X-X

Her stomach also hurts when she sees Jesse standing there once more after school on Monday, but
this time it’s an upset rather than laughter filling it.

“What does he want this time?” Quinn holds onto her hand tighter, expression hardening.

“Come on, I don’t think he sees us, we can sneak by him I think.” She’s as displeased as Quinn,
and when she sees a little smug smirk form at the blonde’s lips at that realization, she tries not to
read into it like all her other actions and guides them to hurry past Jesse and into Quinn’s car.

“I swear to god if he comes again tomorrow I will castrate him,” Quinn vows, and Rachel would
laugh if she doesn’t know that the cheerleader is probably semi-serious.

Unable to hold her question in anymore, she asks, “Not that I’m complaining, but…why do you
dislike him so much? It’s not like he did anything to you.”

“He egged you Rae!” Quinn’s eyes flare up within a second. “I don’t understand why you aren’t as
furious it over it as me, he was a dick to you and now he’s trying to get back into your good graces,
don’t you think that that’s a little bit suspicious?”

“I mean, you were a bitch to me too, but now you’ve made amends and am my best friend,” she
answers with a thoughtful tilt to her voice. “I just like giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

Quinn stays silent for a second, and then she’s looking away, eyes trained to the road as she drives.
“…You’re too forgiving, Rachel.”

Somehow, Rachel doesn’t think that this is about Jesse at all, and she bites her lip in thought. When
it hits her, she turns to Quinn with sharp eyes. “Quinn, what are you really trying to say?”

The blonde doesn’t reply, simply continuing to pull up the driveway of the Berry household and
unlocking the door, but Rachel refuses to budge, reaching out a hand to make Quinn look at her.
“Quinn.”

There’s a beat of utter silence, and then the Head Cheerio is sighing. “I’m not good for you, you
know.”

Rachel’s about to protest immediately, but then Quinn is shaking her head. “This isn’t about my
guilt complex Rae, so you can save me that speech.”

She feels indignation well up within her, and she forcefully turns the blonde to face her. “Then tell
me what this is about.”

It seems like those words trigger what Quinn has been holding in the entire car ride, and she closes
her eyes for a brief second, before it all comes rushing out. “This is about me not being good
enough for you Rachel!” she almost cries out. “This is about how you deserve so much better than
me, better than Jesse, better than Finn, better than anyone, and I don’t know how to give that to
you.”

“Quinn-”

“No Rachel, you just don’t understand,” Quinn’s voice cracks, frustration and pain evident in her
tone. “You’re going to be a big Broadway star someday, and everybody’s going to know your
name, and they’re going to love you, and I’m just going to be-” She abruptly cuts off here, and the
look, the absolute anguish that dawns on her face, is just so heart-breaking that Rachel’s heart
aches along with the blonde’s, a phantom pain that strikes deep into her chest.

“I’m just going to be stuck here alone like a Lima Loser forever,” Quinn whispers, in a croak so
small and broken that Rachel realizes that she’s silently crying.

“You right. This isn’t about that at all,” she suddenly understands. “This isn’t about me being too
forgiving or you feeling like you owe me. Hell, this isn’t even about how you think that you’re
somehow undeserving of me, is it?”

Her brain thinks of connections too fast for her to truly comprehend what’s going through her
mind, but she’s absolutely certain of her next words. “This is about how you think people are
going to abandon you because you think you’re not good enough.”

There isn’t any time at all until Quinn lets out a choked sob, shaking throughout her entire form
visibly, and a beat doesn’t even pass before her body is instinctively moving to wrap the blonde up
in her arms, a sick nausea to her stomach at just how she hadn’t noticed sooner.

“Oh Quinn,” she mummers as the girl in her arms breaks down, clinging onto her as if she’s her
lifeline and the only thing keeping her anchored. A feeling of helplessness bursts through her entire
body, hating how she can’t seem to do anything to fix whatever is happening, and all she can think
of is holding on tighter to Quinn. “I’ve got you Quinn,” she whispers. “I’ve got you, and I’m never
going to let you go.”

Her heart breaks as she sees the normally unstoppable blonde so utterly broken and lost, strangled
little noises coming from her as her body shakes with silent sobs, tears leaking into Rachel’s shirt.
When she figures out that Quinn is trying to keep quiet on purpose, probably drilled into her since
birth, the voice screaming in her head to do something snaps her right into action, and she releases
her breath, resolving to be strong for Quinn.

“Quinn, let’s go into my house, okay?” she gently asks, trying to keep her voice steady and clear. “I
just need you to walk with me there…Can you do that for me?”
When she moves to unbuckle their seatbelts and unlock the car door, Quinn just holds onto her
tighter with an almost desperate and frantic movement, and Rachel rubs her hand over the blonde’s
back to soothe her. “I’m just opening the car door so we can go into our house Quinn, I’m not
leaving you.”

Rachel has seen the blonde through countless breakdowns before, but she’s never seen her quite
like this, not even after she had come out to the Glee club. Before, she would still be responsive,
but this time Quinn is almost panicked, clutching and clawing at her, as if…as if she was afraid
Rachel was going to leave her.

It’s almost like a stone thuds dully against her heart, and she wonders how Quinn had managed to
take care of her before, when she Rachel was the one breaking down, because it just hurts to see
the blonde in so much pain, and she hates the fact that she feels so useless.

But it’s with that reminder, that Quinn had taken care of her then, had held her and comforted her,
that solidifies her determination to see this through, and with what feels like a painful eternity, she
manages to get them out of the car and into her bedroom.

By then, Quinn’s sobs seemed to have calmed down, and the blonde shucks away from her with a
sharp inhale. “Shit, I-I’m sorry,” she rushes out, stepping backwards blindly until her legs meet the
resistance of Rachel’s bed, and her eyes flicker wildly around the room. “I-I’m sorry, Rach- I’m-
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

When Rachel realizes that the blonde’s wild gaze is because she feels the need to find an exit, she
steps out of the way of the door immediately and puts some more distance between them, eyes
wide in alarm. “Quinn?” she asks cautiously, and when Quinn doesn’t seem to register her words,
simply continuing to say I’m sorry over and over again, Rachel takes a small step forward. “Quinn,
you’re scaring me.”

Quinn’s eyes are glazed over and her face is a blank mask, barely masking panic and fear, and
Rachel takes another step forward. “Quinn, please. I need you to answer me.”

When she sees a bit of something enter Quinn’s eyes, she presses harder. “Quinn, I need you. I
need you to be strong and tell me what’s going on, okay?”

“Fuck, Rachel,” Quinn rasps out. “I can’t- I just can’t-”

“Yes, it’s me, Rachel, your Superstar, remember?” she says, as close as she can possibly be without
touching the blonde. “And you can Quinn, I need you to, okay? I need you.”

Quinn sucks in a final sharp breath, and then their bodies are mashed together, hip to hip and breast
to breast. When she feels Quinn exhale, body deflating, she finally allows her tense muscles to
relax too, and she wraps her arms around the girl with tentative arms, scared that something might
set her off again.

Slowly, she maneuvers them so that they’re lying on the bed, Quinn moving along with her but
completely unresponsive otherwise, and Rachel feels that scary ache loom in her heart once more
as she just holds the blonde in her arms, knowing that if worst comes to worst, she has Quinn’s
mom and therapist on speed-dial.

Every second sends a numb pain to her chest, and she closes her eyes as she burrows her head into
soft blonde hair, willing her presence to bring some comfort to Quinn.

Soon enough, the cheerleader nuzzles against her neck, in a movement so slight that Rachel’s
almost afraid that she had imagined it, but then a small whisper comes through. “Can I- Can you
get me my meds? It’s in- in the blue little bag and marked with a red pen.”

“Okay,” she says, and the utter relief she feels course through her veins now that Quinn’s semi-
okay is a weight off her chest, because Quinn’s going to be okay.

With still movements, she slides off the bed and grabs the discarded Cheerios bag on the floor,
finding the small packet of pills easily enough, and she hands them over to the blonde. “I’ll go get
some water for you,” she whispers, afraid that even a small thing could break this fragile tranquil.

“No, it’s- it’s fine,” Quinn shakes her head slightly as she sits up, swallowing down the pills on her
own without water.

Filing that little piece of information into her brain for another time, she shuffles on her feet
awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Quinn…What just- What just happened?”

The blonde closes her eyes tightly, but before Rachel can hurry and add that she doesn’t have to
respond, Quinn lets out a breath and looks away, eyes trained to her fingers that are twitching
towards her ribs dangerously. “I saw Russell a few days ago. Thursday night.”

Rachel blinks to process the words, trying hard not to jump to conclusions. “…Did- Did he do
something?”

She barely manages to keep the accusing bite out of her tone, and when Quinn flinches, her heart
overturns her head, refusing to think it through rationally. “Quinn,” she pleads, voice firm. “What
did he do?”

“He saw me, and then…he didn’t do anything,” Quinn confesses, voice resigned. “Just one look of
contempt, and he walked away. Nothing.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” she mummers, biting on her lip, and Quinn just sends her a self-
depreciating smile.

But then, it all clicks into place, Quinn’s cracked voice at the word Nothing resonating through her
head in haunting echoes. Quinn had grown up listening to Russell demean her and telling her that
she was worthless, and once again, he had abandoned her.

“I’m going to murder him,” she decides, before turning to Quinn with soft eyes. “Quinn, first of all,
you are not going to stay here in Lima, because you are smart and you are passionate about what
you do okay? You’re going to get into an Ivy League school, and you’re going to become a famous
writer, and then I’ll be the one warding off your adoring fans.

“Second of all, even if you don’t go ahead and do that, I am not going to abandon you no matter
what, and I really fucking want to kill Russell for making you think that you’re not worth enough to
stick around for. You’re amazing Quinn, and you’re going to do amazing things. I’d be lucky just
to witness it, standing right by your side if you’ll let me. So I have two solutions for you. One,
murder Russell, and two, just be yourself. Fuck everyone else.”

There’s silence for a long while, Quinn’s facial expressions not showing anything, and Rachel’s
briefly worried that the blonde hadn’t heard her at all, but then Quinn’s nose is crinkling as she
says, “I know people think I’m a slut after babygate, but I would very much appreciate if I could
keep my list of potential one-night-stands to hot girls, thank you very much.”

Rachel stomach goes funny when she thinks of both babygate and Quinn’s potential one-nigh-
yeah, she can’t even bring herself to say it, and she tries to force herself to sound upbeat. “The
mental image of you and Puck is very scarring, you know, so I’d also very much appreciate if
you’d stop talking about that.”

Eh. Well, at least she didn’t sound that possessive and angry that Puck basically raped her.

But judging by Quinn’s little smirk, she probably did. (Dammit Rachel, stop thinking about what
that means, because Quinn would never want you.)

“At least thanks to the wine coolers that night, I don’t even remember how it happened so,” Quinn
winces herself, but then a secretive smile makes its way onto her face, and – is that- is that a blush
on her face? “And well…I kind of have my eye on someone myself.”

Rachel feels a wave of nausea envelope her immediately, and color drains from her face, paling.
“…You- You have your eye on someone?” she tries to ask with a steady voice, ignoring the fact
that she’s utterly failing to do so, because her voice is going higher and higher in pitch with each
word.

Quinn doesn’t seem to notice though (or care, that snide little self-loathing voice in her head says),
and she simply continues to smile bashfully. “I do,” she hums with an excited tilt to her voice.
“And…she’s something special alright.”

“Oh.” Rachel’s heart drops, face falling, but she still keeps her tone up for the sake of appearances.
“Well I- I’m happy for you.”

Quinn shrugs at her, and a little bit of doubt enters her tired eyes. “She might not like me back
though.”

Rachel waves that notion away without a beat, the thought of someone rejecting the blonde simply
too absurd for her to even entertain, no matter how much it hurts her to think of Quinn having a
girlfriend that…isn’t her. “Oh please, no one in their right mind would ever say no to you.”

A contemplative look crosses Quinn’s (very pretty even post-breakdown) face. “Would you say no
if I asked you?”

The question seems to have come out of nowhere for Rachel, and she blinks, trying to decide if
she’s hallucinating or not. “I- I’m sorry?”

But as soon as she says the words, the room’s mood seems to turn somber as they remember what
happened before, and Rachel can’t help but reach out to take Quinn’s hand in hers, thinking that
dropping the previous topic would probably be for the best. “Quinn…What- What exactly
happened back there?”

She has a bit of an inkling of an idea in her brain, but her heart is already speeding up and thumping
loudly at all the worst-case scenarios her mind is conjuring up. She almost expects the blonde not
to answer at all, but then a pale hand is softly squeezing back, and Rachel is reminded of a firm
promise of opening up.

“So…remember what I said about Russell getting…violent?” Quinn sighs out, and Rachel’s hand
automatically tightens around the blonde’s at the reminder, jaw already clenching at the thought.
“Sometimes, he wouldn’t stop until I said what he wanted me to, so it…became a kneejerk
reaction, I guess.”

Rachel’s head snaps up immediately. “You said it was a few slaps and punches,” she says, voice
going up in pitch as her already frazzled mind gets more and more frantic in its worrying.
“It was,” Quinn replies hurriedly. “It was just- It was just that- He…He had a tendency to leave me
alone, to- to teach me a lesson, if I didn’t.”

“Leave you where exactly?” she asks, eyes darkening as her voice gains an edge.

“Lima is a small place Rachel,” Quinn reminds her with a self-depreciating lift to her tone. “How’d
you think that I suddenly got better and better in PE?”

“…He didn’t,” she growls out.

Quinn laughs, dark and heavy. “I’m very familiar with the streets around these parts.”

“You were nine.”

“Better nine than five,” Quinn sends a shrug at her. “I never got really hurt anyway, plus Mom
started to find me after the first few times.”

“You never got hurt?” Rachel almost-screeches at the cheerleader, voice shrill and angry. “Quinn,
you’ll probably have abandonment issues for the rest of your life!”

At that, Quinn has the audacity to crack out a small smile. “You know, I can probably stop seeing
Dr. Flayke and consult you instead, the way you both seem to say the exact same things. Well, the
shrink is definitely more subtle about it.”

“How can you- How can you sit there and just act like this is all okay?” Rachel almost throws her
hands up in frustration.

Quinn’s light expression turns dark immediately. “Oh I know it’s definitely not okay by any
standards, the shrink made sure to drill that into my brain even though I still think that I deserved it
sometimes.” Rachel’s about to protest, but Quinn shoots her an I’m not finished look, and
continues, “But there are people out there who are suffering through worse right now. If you think
about it, I got off lightly compared to them. I just had to nurse a few bruises and find a way to
navigate Lima. Others couldn’t even make it out alive.”

“And…you’re glad that you made it out alive?” she asks, knowing not to press further even though
her heart is still raging at the thought of Russell Fabray’s actions.

“Jesus, I’m not suicidal Rae,” Quinn laughs, before her expression dims a bit. “…Well, not
anymore, at least.”

Fear strikes itself into Rachel’s heart, and she swallows, throat dry. “You- You wanted to-”

“For a while during the Summer, yeah,” the blonde freely admits, as if it’s nothing at all. “But
Mom made sure to run us through family therapy, and well…I realized that there was a lot I
wanted to live for.”

“…Like this girl you like?”

(Dammit, she shouldn’t be this much of a masochist, but she is and fuck she hates the fact that she
already wants so badly to be whoever Quinn has her eye on.)

Quinn’s entire demeanor seems to light up, all trace of the previous mood gone, and a soft smile
appears on her face. “Definitely,” she agrees. “I have a lot of work cut out for me to woo her.”

She thinks that her heart shatters into a million pieces, because that smile that Quinn’s wearing?
 That’s the special little smile that only she gets to fucking see, and now it’s being used when
thinking of a girl that isn’t her, and she thinks that maybe she wants to cry a little at the thought of
that. Or a whole fucking lot.

But still, this girl, whoever she is, is who’s causing Quinn to grin so beautifully, so she sucks it up
and forces a smile on her face. She can’t bear to continue the topic of whoever Quinn likes though,
so she says instead, “So…you’re okay now.”

“I am,” Quinn breathes out. “I guess seeing Russell just…triggered me unknowingly and it had to
come out somehow. His facial expression, it was- it was the one that he used to wore when he…left
me behind.”

“Where the fuck was Judy in all of this?”

“She always came back for me,” Quinn says, voice small. “Just…sometimes she couldn’t.”

Quinn’s demeanor is calm, but Rachel knows the blonde well enough by now, and she knows that
that little break in her voice was not intentional at all, so she bites her lip and pushes away the
thoughts of Quinn liking someone that isn’t her. “Come here,” she says, tugging open the covers so
they can snuggle inside.

Quinn follows willingly, and the Cheerio cracks a small smile. “I really must be something special
then, if you’d let all the germs of our clothes into your bed for me.”

There’s a response in her head, saying that she’d do anything for the blonde, but that just makes
her heart ache harder, so she simply huddles closer to her warmth. “You really are something
special,” she says instead, filled with an urge to make sure Quinn knows that. “And that’s why I’ll
never leave you, okay Quinn? If I’m ever so stupid as to do that, I promise you that I will always,
always come back, and then you can smack me for doing it in the first place. Deal?”

There’s long beat, and then Quinn is exhaling a shaky breath. “Deal. You’re…You’re really
something else, Rachel Berry.”

A sharp stab pangs at her heart, because if she really was that special, then Quinn would be
choosing her and not the bitch that she has her eye on, but anyone who can make the blonde smile
so happily has to be something, so she ignores the pain in her chest and she holds onto Quinn
tighter.

At least she has this much of Quinn right now, and she’s going to hang on to as much as she can
get.

Chapter End Notes

Since I technically updated on Monday last week due to it being after midnight, you
guys get this on a technical Sunday. I was sick all week (still am, so don't kill me if
this was shit :p) and didn't write a single thing, and I'm going to Japan for a week in
like three days, which is like fuck me and my muse, and to top it all off, I'm 25k off-
schedule yay silently weeps
 V. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where Rachel gets a clue-by-four

Chapter Notes

Just a beforehand warning: Yall are gonna hate me for this chapter. Like, I fully
expect a lot of BITCH WHYs. Nothing sad happens, promise, but Vicky immediately
demanded me to hand over the next chapter when I gave her this though, soooo :p

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jesse shows up the next day.

And the next. And the next. And the day after that too.

As Rachel pulls Quinn away so that they can sneak to their car without the boy noticing, Quinn
refuses to budge. "Oh fuck this," she growls. "That's it, I'm going over there and giving him a piece
of my mind."

"Don't do that, your mind is too intelligent for him," Rachel tries to joke in an attempt to dissuade
her. "He probably would need much more than an instruction manual to operate it."

"Yeah, and you're too good for him too, so I'm going to tell him that, and maybe then he'll fuck
off," Quinn grunts, and then a slightly worried look dawns on her face, apprehension now in her
eyes as she draws back a bit. "Wait…You- You don't actually like him, right?"

Rachel, affronted that Quinn would even have the audacity to even entertain that thought, grimaces
with her her nose wrinkled. "Of course not, why would you think that?"

There's a part of her brain telling her that she probably should pay more attention to exactly why
Quinn is worried, but then she writes it off as wishful thinking, because the blonde is probably just
protective of her since Jesse hurt her the last time around.

"Well, you're the one who's preventing me from castrating him." She's pretty sure that she sees a
pout form on Quinn's face, and she has an urge to just kiss it away, because really, those lips are
just way too damn kissable, and she-

Focus Rachel, focus. "I probably wouldn't have much of a protest to that, but I'd really like it if
you'd keep yourself out of prison and be with me instead."

Her face flushes at her wording, or more specifically the 'be with me' part – can you try can be
more obvious Rachel? – but she shakes it off and squeezes at Quinn's hand. "Look, I don't want
him to bother us either, but I do acknowledge that it is highly unlikely he's going to give up
anytime soon, so…we can go talk to him, I guess."
"Finally," Quinn's face stretches into an almost-evil smirk, and Rachel has a slight tug-of-war
deciding if it's terrifying or cute.

"Quinn, do try not to rip his face off please," she requests, and the Cheerio's face falls slightly.

"No promises."

Rachel bites her lip, because really, she shouldn't find someone's face falling so attractive, and half-
heartedly, she reminds, "Quinn."

The honor-roll student sighs. "Fine, I won't send him flying back to his mother crying by sic-ing
Santana on him."

"That's better," Rachel allows the smile that she's been holding in to appear, and she takes in a
breath. "Time to face the music."

"If the music somehow can be both arrogant and terrible, then yes," Quinn snarks beside her, and
Rachel lightly swats at her arm.

"Be nice."

"What, did you say 'be my HBIC persona'?" Quinn pretends not to have heard her, "I knew you had
a thing for it."

Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, but she supposes her red face is answer enough, and before her
mind can overthink the smug smirk showing on Quinn's face, the head cheerleader is continuing, "I
mean, I don't blame you, I've been told how hot my HBIC mode is, so."

"What, from the girl you like?" Rachel can't help but grumble, and a soft look appears on Quinn's
face, indecipherable, and it makes Rachel's heart hurt with a phantom ache, because it's
undoubtedly due to the mysterious crush.

"I don't think she really has told me she likes it, but I think I know better," Quinn smiles, the small
little grin that is genuine and reaches her eyes, and Rachel's elated and depressed all at once.

There's a little voice at the back of her head telling her that she should probably dig deeper into the
fact that Quinn practically hangs out with her 24/7 and so has no time to actually socialize with
other people, which makes her last statement somewhat questionable, but Rachel can't really afford
to get her hopes up, so she simply tugs at Quinn's arm gently. "Come on, let's go and see what
Jesse wants."

"You, most likely," Quinn grunts, though she follows along without complaint. "And he's not going
to get you."

"Because he's not good enough for me?" she questions, watching as Jesse notices them and his face
turns expectant.

Quinn snorts, "Do I even have to answer that question?"

"I suppose not," Rachel shrugs, taking her sweet time to walk as slowly as she can to prolong the
inevitable. "…Is there anyone you think is good enough for me?"

She only asks out of curiosity. Nothing more.

(She's also sure that the laughter in her brain isn't Bi-rry crackling.)
"Of course not," Quinn answers without a beat, as if the thought's simply absurd. "No one's good
enough for you."

"…Even you?" Damn her masochistic heart.

Right as they stand still before Jesse, Quinn shakes her head and chuckles, "I'm never going to be
good enough for you."

She's about to venomously protest, but then Jesse saunters up to them, and she hears the blonde
whisper, "But damn if I'm not going to try."

Her heart lifts immediately at the words, and it sinks almost as fast. More than anything in that
moment, she wants to be the girl that Quinn likes so badly, to hear the blonde's sweet and heartfelt
declarations all the time, and she barely manages to keep her face level.

It's at that moment that Jesse opens his mouth to speak, and Quinn snaps into HBIC mode
immediately, stepping forward a bit as if to shield Rachel. "St. James, I'm only going to say this
once, so listen up," she growls, and Rachel totally doesn't ruin her panties when her stomach thuds
with arousal at Quinn's low and dangerous husk. "Rachel's not interested, get it through your thick
skull, or I'm going to break it."

Jesse, for his part, doesn't seem to be that shaken up, but Rachel knows better, as she can see him
pale a bit, and she nudges Quinn softly, telling her that she'll handle this. "Jesse, I really don't like
you at all, okay? So please stop trying to get me to date you, or else I'll be forced to have Shelby
intervene. If you want to be friends, then I'll be happy to attempt to build a friendship with you, but
I'll never do more than that."

"In other words, fuck off, or we'll call the cops on you," Quinn shrugs, eyes narrowed. "I'm sure
you have a preference."

Jesse can't keep his unfazed front anymore, and his face darkens. "Fine," he says, before turning to
Rachel, a look equating to one of a ruffled bird adorned. "Your loss."

"Yes, she will regret and mourn the loss of you forever," Quinn deadpans, "Now get the fuck out of
here."

A contemplative look enters Jesse's eyes, and they widen, as if realizing something. "Oh," he
chuckles in a way that just screams condescending. "I see what this is about." Quinn automatically
tenses from next to her, and Rachel tries her best to soothe the blonde by rubbing circles over the
back of her hand with her thumb. "You're worried that-"

"St. James," Quinn cuts him off with her voice hard. "Don't you dare."

A look of almost pity is what Jesse aims at her, and Bi-rry's voice screams at Rachel to actually
listen and think. "And that, my dear, is why you won't ever have what you really want," he sighs.
"I'll leave you two alone now. But…I do wish to rebuild our friendship, Rachel. A word of advice
though, do try opening your eyes to what's blatantly in front of you."

With that, he turns on his heel and goes back to his Range Rover, with Quinn still rigid in her form.

"Quinn," Rachel tentatively says, brow furrowed. "What did he mean by that?"

A myriad of emotions flicker across Quinn's face, flying by too fast for her to pick out, and finally,
the Head Cheerio lets out a breath. "It's…It's nothing."
A large part of Rachel is telling her to push farther, the part of that's usually right about these
things, but her mind is too jumbled and her heart too distraught for her to muster up any energy to,
and she shoves all of those thoughts into the back of her mind. "Okay then," she chirps, trying to
keep her voice light. "Come on, I want to finish watching Buffy by tomorrow."

"But I just want to head to bed and cuddle all day," Quinn pouts.

"We can do that later," Rachel promises, ignoring the tint to her cheeks, because ha, take that
crush-bitch, Quinn wants to cuddle with me!

"My bed always feels cold when you're not there though, and since today is Friday I want to get my
fix, sue me," Quinn grins innocently, though it's a shit-eating one if Rachel's ever seen it, and it
makes her heart skip faster.

"Yeah well, guess your crush will warm up your bed soon enough," she tries to tease, though she's
pretty sure it comes off as way too bitter, and she internally winces at her tone.

"Oh she will," Quinn hums with that secretive little smile of hers, but then she seems to notice
Rachel's sour mood, and a thoughtful look dawns on her face. "…You don't actually know who I
have a crush on, do you?"

All I need to know is that I hate her, dammit! is what her inner voice growls.

"All I know is that she's one lucky girl," she shrugs instead, hoping that she sounds nonchalant
about it.

"Nah, I'm the lucky one," Quinn chuckles. "I'm afraid that she'll reject me if I tell her about my
feelings though."

Oof…Yep, that's my heart breaking right there, she thinks, chest clenching. But I'll weather
through this. "There's no way," she forces herself laugh, even though it probably comes off as fake
and artificial, because fuck she's getting more and more heartbroken with everything Quinn says, so
really, if she can't act as well as she usually can, it's not really her fault. "I mean, you could
probably ask out Kurt, and he'd still say yes."

"Probably to hound me on my fashion choices, but okay," Quinn plays along, but it's clear that
something is on her mind, most likely the girl she has a crush on, and Rachel just feels another
piece of her heart bring ripped out of her chest.

"Now come on," she shifts the topic, knowing that she won't be able to bear any more of this line
of conversation without crying her eyes out and giving herself away completely. "It's Friday and
we've already been interrupted by Jesse long enough."

Quinn hums her agreement, and the blonde leads her into the car with a chivalrous, "After you, my
lady."

"Why, how kind of you," Rachel laughs, heart stubbornly speeding up at the gesture even after so
many times of witnessing it, and she slides into the passenger seat. "We can listen to the
soundtrack of Funny Girl again."

"I'd rather listen to your MySpace videos, but sure," Quinn sends her a brief smile, eyes unfocused
and clearly focused on other things.

Other things that don't involve Rachel, like that fucking bitch Quinn likes.
Yeah, she really fucking hates this.

X-X-X-X-X

Hours later, when they're curled up on the couch and watching Buffy, it's clear that Quinn isn't
really paying much attention at all, not even following along excitedly like she always does when it
comes to Buffy, and Rachel tries her damn best to not sulk.

Oh please, who's she kidding, she's definitely sulking.

Having to deal with the whole 'I have a crush on Quinn Fabray' is hard enough already, but now
she also has to worry about the girl that Quinn likes.

The insecure part of her keeps on whispering (yelling, screaming, shouting) at her that she was
never going to be enough to begin with, so how the hell is she supposed to compete with someone
special enough to catch Quinn's eye?

The even more insecure part of her tells her that she's probably never going to find the courage to
disrupt what she and Quinn has and try to compete in the first place, so she simply huddles closer
to Quinn's form, soaking up what comfort and warmth she can.

It's ironic, finding comfort from what's causing her to be so distraught in the first place, but when
Quinn undoubtedly gets together with her crush, their time together will definitely decrease, and
Rachel's very pathetic to be thinking this, but she wants to hold on to these moments with all that
she has, knowing that it's probably limited.

(Now, the voice in the form of Bi-rry is telling her otherwise, telling her to look at all that's
happened and actually see what's going on, but for once, that voice in her head seems to pale in
volume in comparison to all the other worries and doubts clouding her mind, and she just doesn't
have the energy to pursue it further.)

"What's going on Superstar?" Quinn cuts into her thoughts, looking at her with a brow arched.
"You've been blanking out, what's wrong?"

Rachel bites down hard on the inside of her lip, glancing away with a duck of her head. "It's
stupid."

And something that will very much drive the blonde away if she finds out.

"If it's stupid, then you wouldn't be spacing," Quinn counters. "Now, tell me what's wrong and I'll
do my best to fix it. You looking sad isn't appealing."

"You-You're just so perfect." Rachel shakes her head, almost as if she's in disbelief.

"Self-esteem and abandonment issues to last through lifetimes, hello?" Quinn gives her a crooked
smile. "If that's what's bothering you, you probably should go find a therapist yourself."

"I already have one," Rachel reminds the blonde, a small smile appearing on her face now that she
understands how somewhat comedic this is, both of them being so epically messed up. "And you're
perfect in the way that you somehow manage to turn your flaws into endearments," she shrugs.
"You do it better though," Quinn grins at her, but then it dims a bit. "Tell me what's bothering you
Rae. If it's because of Finn or someone, I'll gladly find Santana and beat them up with her."

"Quinn, a suspension wouldn't look good on your college applications, you know," Rachel lightly
laughs.

"You assume that I would be so stupid as to let myself be caught." Quinn raises a perfectly arched
eyebrow at her. "Stop trying to distract me Rae, spill."

Rachel sighs, knowing that the blonde would stop if she really wanted her to, but a small part of her
is telling her to talk to Quinn, as if that would make the cheerleader want to stay more. "So this girl
you like," she starts, swallowing down the dryness of her throat. "When- When you inevitably get
together with her, I- I'm afraid that you'll stop wanting to hang out with me," she confesses softly,
keeping her eyes trained to the monster-slaying Buffy is doing.

"Rachel, do you like, not remember how I was scared you would be the one leaving me?" Quinn
nudges her softly, forcing her to meet hazel eyes. "I'm in this for life, and I'm offended you would
think otherwise."

"You'll still start to spend less time with me once you get yourself a girlfriend," Rachel mumbles,
shrugging of the hand on her arm but still not willing to move away from Quinn's comfortable body
warmth just yet.

"Rachel, sweetie, trust me on this, but that will never happen," Quinn has the audacity to laugh,
before the look in her eyes turns into something hesitant. "You'll…You'll always be the number
one for me, no matter what, okay?"

Bi-rry is screaming at her that what Quinn's trying to tell her is very much important, but all Rachel
can do is nod her head and burrow herself closer to the blonde, trying not to look into why exactly
Quinn calls her sweetie and all those other things.

Honestly, she doesn't know much more of this she can take.

X-X-X-X-X

When she gets home the next day, she's practically on a warpath to her room to do her pillow
scream-cry-smile routine.

It takes a good ten minutes for her to calm down, and she walks down the staircases to the
basement to practice her singing, storming right past her fathers, who look on with desensitized
eyes. (Speaking of which, she really should make another PowerPoint educating them on that.)

After a few heartbreaking renditions of various songs, it's when she's once again belting out
Hopelessly Devoted To You that she can't take anymore, and she storms right back up to the living
room, breathlessly saying to her fathers, "Dads, I have something to confess."

Her fathers simply look on with semi-interested eyes, and she continues, "I have a crush on Quinn
Fabray."

Leroy and Hiram just continue looking at her, and Rachel stomps her foot in impatience. "Well?"
"Oh, that's it?" Leroy blinks. "I thought you had something else to confess."

"I'm glad that you aren't pregnant though," Hiram nods along, before he furrows his brow. "Wait,
why aren't you with Quinn yet?"

"Fathers, I'm having a crisis here," Rachel stresses, almost throwing up her arms in a diva-fit.
"Why aren't you as surprised as me?"

"Rachel honey, sorry to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure you've had a crush on Quinn since
forever," Leroy explains, shrugging. "I mean, even back during freshman year, you were always
like Quinn looked so pretty today and Quinn, the girl that's first in our grade and to-be Head
Cheerio soon! I don't really know what you want us to say to you."

Rachel lets that sink in her head for a moment, and then her eyes are narrowing as she lets out a
frustrated yell and storming up the stairs.

"Wait, Rachel!" Hiram calls after her. "Does this mean that we can bake a 'Welcome to the family'
cake for Quinn?"

X-X-X-X-X

"Kurt, I have a crush on Quinn. Help."

"Oh, you're just figuring this out now?" is what the amused reply rings through. "I'd thought for
sure that we'd be having this conversation weeks ago."

"Yeah yeah, save me the speech, my dads already gave it to me," Rachel rolls her eyes. "Now help,
I have a crisis!"

"Of course you do," Kurt hums, dry and yet still interested. "Now, I've noticed that Quinn really
likes it when you wear primary black, and she thinks it's cute when you wear a beanie, so I'd
recommend that, and-"

"Kurt, not that kind of crisis!" Rachel hisses, before her mind registers what the boy had said.
"Wait…she likes it when I wear black?"

"Girl, had you saw her sex eyes at you that time when you wore that faux-leather jacket to school?"
Kurt practically snorts. "But what kind of crisis are you having, do tell."

"Quinn's confessed that…she likes someone," Rachel spills out, dying to just vent all of her
thoughts out. "And- And I'm trying really hard not to sob my eyes out while bundling under my
bedsheets for an eternity."

There's silence from the other side of the line for a long while, with Rachel's heart sinking more
and more with every second that passes, and then Kurt is sighing, "Rachel…Have you…Have you
ever considered that maybe the girl Quinn likes is you?"

The words sink into her like tiny needles, and she closes her eyes. "Kurt, please don't give me false
hope right now," she whispers in reply. "I'd rather deal with the heartbreak before it gets worse."

"Rachel, why exactly do you think there's not a chance that it's you?" Kurt asks, sounding as if he's
desperately trying to hold something in, but Rachel barely pays it any mind, mind too frazzled and
heart aching too much for her to really dig deeper.

"There's no way she'd like me," she almost laughs, though she's pretty sure it comes out as an
almost sob instead, bitter and dark. "She's Quinn Fabray, and well, I'm…me."

"The Rachel Berry I know would go after her with all her might." Kurt easily side-waves that, and
Rachel doesn't even try to figure out his angle.

"Yeah well, Rachel Berry now would rather keep her friendship rather than jeopardize it."

"Oh please, Quinn is never leaving you, you two are like lovesick puppies following each other
around." Kurt's eye-roll is heard very evidentially in his tone, and he continues, sounding more and
more exasperated with each word. "And even if the practically non-existent chance that she
actually doesn't like you back happens, you know she won't end your friendship."

"But everything will change Kurt, she'll start pulling away, and- and I can't lose her, can't lose what
we already have!"

"So you won't have the guts to actually take a chance and get even more?"

"Not if it means I might end up with less." Rachel shakes her head, even though she knows he can't
see it. "I just- I just can't Kurt."

She's met with silence for a few seconds, the call static crackling dangerously, and then there is,
"Oh, for the love of- That's it," Kurt finally hisses with frustration, the edge lacing his tone like he's
at the end of his rope. "Santana and I made a pact not to say anything, but I can't take it anymore."

Rachel immediately furrows her brow in bemusement. "Wha-"

"No, you listen right here Rachel Berry," Kurt cuts her off, voice heated. "Listen up carefully,
because I don't think I can bear to say this again. Quinn. Likes. You." He enunciates each word as
if talking to a toddler, pronouncing the words loud and clear. "Hell, the girl is head over heels for
you, and I'm so tired of seeing you two dance around each other and being stupid, I mean you two
are practically dating, the way you seem to be galloping around everywhere hand in hand!"

Kurt's words pierce right into her chest, reigniting all her overthinking about whether it actually
means something, and she swallows tightly, suddenly feeling more like crying then ever. "Kurt,
don't be silly and stop telling me this," she simply croaks out, heart beating so loudly in her chest
she's sure she's going to have a heart attack, and maybe it's something in her voice, but Kurt stops
his ranting, allowing her to continue. "Don't you think that I know exactly how close we are? And
it tortures me every day, because she's right there, but she's unattainable, and I don't want to lose
what we already have. It's all I'll ever have of her, Kurt."

"Rachel…" Kurt sighs out, sounding both tired and compassionate. "Haven't you been listening at
all? You keep on thinking that you can't have her, but you already do Rachel, and you know what?
It's because of those same exact fears that Quinn's too scared to tell you how she really feels
straight-up."

"You're lying," Rachel denies without a beat, refusing to believe it, breath speeding up rapidly,
because this all sounds too good to be true, and she just can't afford to believe it. "This is all just
some sort of sick prank, and I won't listen to whatever you have to say."

"I know I've been awful to you, but do you really have that little trust in me?" Kurt questions, voice
soft.
"No, of course not, it- I just- I just can't set up myself to failure Kurt," her voice breaks as she
croaks out the words. "Finn I could handle, but- but losing Quinn completely? I-I know she would
never really leave me, but I can't do that to myself, even if it's worth the risk."

"God, you two are so frustrating," Kurt sighs out in reply. "Just so you know, I'm totally rubbing
my temples because of the headache you're giving me right now."

"Kurt, if you don't really have anything else to say, can you at least come over so I can cry a bit?"
Rachel blinks to force her eyes to stop watering. "Maybe I'll get over Quinn after, though I doubt
it."

"You- Rachel- What more evidence of Quinn liking you back do you need?" Kurt ignores her last
sentence. "You said it yourself, the closeness you share is definitely not something that would be
platonic, and you know it as well as I do, she never gets tactile with anyone else, just you, so what
more does it have to take to get you to believe that she likes you?"

"I-I…" Rachel can't muster up a reply, because she knows the answer well enough. All the
evidence is there, but it's truly her mindset and fear that's blocking her heart.

She's probably going to end up bursting out in tears one of these seconds soon, but then Kurt
connects someone to their line, and Santana's panicked voice rings out, "Oh shit Hummel, Q's
currently freaking out in my living room and I don't know what to do!"

"Santan-" Kurt tries to say, with Rachel hanging onto every word with all the worst-case scenarios
playing out in her mind and already half-way out the door in case the blonde's in trouble.

"No, not now Hummel, she's doing feelings, not meltdown feelings, but heartbreak feelings, and I
have no fucking clue how to deal with it other than shoving Brittany to her!" Santana tirades on,
cutting the boy off. "Please tell me you've gotten things going on the midget's end, because Quinn's
panicking big time now that she's actually planning out how to ask Berry out and not just trying to
woo her!"

"…What?

There's silence for all but two seconds, and then, "…Shit."

"I tried warning you Santana," Kurt huffs out. "Now you have to suffer through this with me."

"What? Fuck no," Santana snorts, "I already have to deal with Q- Oh fuck!"

"What?" Rachel and Kurt simultaneously ask in alarm.

"Quinn's run off to who knows where," Santana groans. "Britts tried stopping her, but you know
Quinn and her muscles, bitch's fucking strong." Before Rachel can shove her raging thoughts to the
side and question whether the blonde is going to be safe or not, the Latina continues, "Berry, I hope
for your sake that you've gotten over whatever you're in denial of, because I'm pretty sure that
Quinn is going to show up at your doorstep any second now, asking for your hand in marriage."

"Santana, don't scare her like that!" Kurt chastises, before he lets out a girlish squeal. "But I do
have to admit, all of this romantic drama is so good, I just can't wait to get all the deets from your
date Rachel."

"Da-Date?" she squeaks.

"Well I better hope so," Santana snorts. "Unless you're planning on saying no to Quinn Fabray on a
mission."

"Now, remember what I said Rach," Kurt continues as soon as Santana stops, not allowing Rachel
any time to process at all. "Wear some black, light and natural makeup, and something cute. Got
me? Great."

"Wha-"

"Oh and Rachel, don't hurt Quinn," Santana adds, "I like you these days, but you hurt my girl, I
hurt you."

"I'm definitely going to give Quinn that sentiment myself too," Kurt hums. "Though I am a bit
scared of her."

"I'm pretty sure both of them are going to live in a disgustingly happy ever after anyways, after all
that they've gone through – hell, after all we've gone through trying to get them together – so it's
probably not needed, but I like terrorizing Berry like that."

"Santana, don't be rude now," Kurt says, sounding haughty. "I know for a fact that you've given
Quinn the speech too, so you can't lie, Rachel's growing on you."

"Like a fungus?" Santana snarks in return, but Rachel can hear the hint of embarrassment coloring
her tone, and that just adds another emotion to the stockpile of contradicting feelings in her mess of
a state.

Before she can dwell any further – like maybe on the fact that Quinn Fabray apparently likes her
back and is going to ask her out within the day – Kurt starts talking again. "Yeah, she does that to
you," he chuckles fondly, before it turns to one of amusement. "But I'm pretty sure we should be
reassuring her right now, since I can practically feel her freakout from here."

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot," Santana agrees. "What stage of denial is Berry on? The stage where she
thinks she doesn't actually like Q, the stage where she thinks that Quinn would never like her, or
the stage where she thinks that she's hallucinating all of this?"

"Uh, the second one mostly," Kurt answers. "She had the same exact reasoning as Quinn on that."

Santana snorts, "Yup, a match made in gay heaven if I ever saw one."

"They probably should just get their heads out of their asses soon," Kurt agrees. "Now, Rachel I'm
pretty sure she should be there any minute with her big confession, so remember all the things
we've said okay? You'll be fine."

"I, for one, want to see how this entire shitshow turns out, so," Santana laughs. "But yeah midget,
what Kurtsie there said. There's no way you'll mess up with Quinn, bitch is way too in love with
you otherwise."

"In- In love?" Rachel opens and shuts her jaw, heart feeling like it was going to stop functioning at
any second.

"Dammit Santana stop scarring the poor girl. Rachel sweetie, just let Quinn finish her epic
declaration of love, do one of your own, and agree to a date alright? The rest will definitely come
naturally."

"Declaration of what?"
 "Really, I'd love to give you advice Berry, but I wants to get my cuddles on with my Britts, so no,"
Santana's dry voice cuts though the line, and Rachel just feels herself freak out even more. "But if
you really want it, here's my kick in your head – kiss her and finally bang away all of your fucking
blinding UST. Got me? Great."

"Wha-" The doorbell rings. "Oh fuck."

Santana barks out a laugh. "Oh fuck indeed," she crackles, before her voice takes on a softer hue.
"Now go get your girl Berry."

"We'll be cheering you on," Kurt assures her, and just like that, the line cuts off.

Looking down the stairs and peering right at the daunting door, Rachel doesn't even know where to
begin processing all the shit's that been revealed to her, but Quinn Fabray is literally right there at
her doorstep, and if Kurt and Santana are to be believed, about to ask her out on a date.

She's so fucked, isn't she?

(But at the bottom of her heart, there's a giddy feeling of anticipation slowly rising up to replace the
dread and fear, and she has no idea what to do with that.)

Sucking in a deep breath, she sets her eyes on the door once more, and she exhales.

What is one to do with Quinn Fabray on their doorstep and apparently about to declare her love?

The answer would be to kiss her senseless and agree to whatever the blonde wants, her inner voice
provides, and for once, Rachel agrees.

So it is.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, hate me. Leave me reviews screaming at me for this, maybe that’ll push me to
actually get my ass together and write more. My writing is only a chapter and a half
ahead right now, which is I think the smallest the gap has ever been. Gaaaah, damn
you Japan! If you know me on discord, please send hourly messages reminding me to
write, god knows I need it.
 V. Part III
Chapter Summary

The one where I leave yall on a slightly less steep cliff

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It probably should feel more dramatic then it is actually is.

After all, it’s a scene that Rachel has dreamt of many a time, with time seemingly frozen down as
she stares at the door with her mind in a frenzy and heart a mess.

She also probably should be freaking out, because the girl Quinn likes is actually her, which is just
a ‘what-the-fuck’ trip already, but now she’s also just a door away, about to ask her out on a date.

Thinking about it, Rachel feels her heart speed up rapidly, but honestly she’s just so tired after all
the emotional rollercoasters and revelations that had swept her off her feet and landed her on her
head today, and for once, she just wants to go with the flow and see where this takes her.

So pushing everything else aside for the moment, she breathes in and out with steady breaths, and
she lets the most basic of truths wash over her instead. Quinn Fabray likes me, and she’s going to
ask me out.

That simple sentence seems to clear her entire mind, emptying all the leftover emotions from
earlier, and when she repeats it in her brain, a strange giddiness erupts from her chest, and she has
to stop her smile from contorting into a smile, because she still has to be cautious even though now
all the wants is to rip open the door and kiss the blonde who is apparently outside right now.

You know, you should probably open the door before Quinn changes her mind and leaves, Bi-rry
reminds her, somewhat more helpful than usual.

That possibility sends Rachel almost running to the door, but then when her hand is on the door
handle, she freezes. Crap, what am I going to say?

Uh, maybe that you like her back and you want to have her babies?

…Why are you being so helpful?

Because if you don’t get your shit together soon, Quinn’s going to leave and then my sexytimes will
be gone, dumdum!

Oh. That…makes a lot more of sense.

Well duh, now go get our girl, will you?

Huffing in a deep breath for courage, Rachel reminds herself to just go with the flow, and she
opens the door, to be met with the sight of Quinn, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she shuffles her
feet on the doorstep, looking tentative and hesitant.
The blonde always looks absolutely stunning, but in that moment, the girl looks so beautiful that
Rachel feels her heartbeat skipping in frantic beats, and maybe it’s the fact that she knows the girl
Quinn likes is actually her now – which makes everything so much better – Rachel can’t seem to
bring herself to form words, too enamored with the beauty in front of her.

“Quinn,” she finally manages after a few beats, voice breathy and airy, and the cheerleader seems
to snap out of her daze.

“Uh, yeah, hi Rachel,” Quinn starts, eyes seemingly flickering all over the place. Seeing the
Cheerio so frazzled and unsure is definitely a first, and Rachel can only watch on in morbid
fascination as Quinn bites down on her lip, continuing, “I-I’m sorry for coming here unannounced,
but I…I have something I want to tell you, I guess.”

Rachel knows exactly what the blonde is going to say, but still, there’s a little voice in her head
telling her that that’s not what Quinn is here for at all – because why would she have a crush on
someone like her – and it makes her chest clench, so she holds in her breath.

“So um – oh god this is stupid – remember that girl I told you that I had a crush on?” Quinn asks,
looking as if she’s losing her nerve with every beat and second, and Rachel gives a small nod, heart
racing. “Yeah, so it’s, uh- it’s-” the blonde tries to force out, a visible conflict waging on her face,
and Rachel just wants to get this done and over with by just saying yes a thousand times, but she’s
rooted in her spot, paralyzed by the fear that Quinn might not actually like her after all. Finally,
after a few more times stumbling over her words, Quinn shakes her head as she backs away slowly,
taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I can’t do this, it was- it was stupid of me, to come here, I- I’m
sorry, I can’t- I have to go, I’m sorry-”

The girl looks like a caged animal, a panicked look on her face, and Rachel’s inner voice screams
at her to do something, anything, to get the blonde to stay, because her chance is slipping away
before she can even fully grasp it, and it’s that realization that sends her into action before Quinn
can slip away without another word, sending her out of the doorway with a desperateness that
seems to have followed her around for too long. “Wait, Quinn!”

The blonde stops right in her tracks, and when she looks back up at her, the pure fear that Rachel
finds shown clearly there makes her heart ache with a dull pang, hurting with a pain that’s laced
with incredulity.

Quinn shouldn’t be the one freaking out about asking Rachel Berry out for a date, for god’s sake.
and she’s be damned if she’ll let her own fear ruin the only shot at happiness she might get, so with
a spike of bravery that can only come from extreme franticness, she rushes out, “Quinn…What-
What were you going to say to me?”

She could probably say that she knew her plan all along, but she can’t. She has to hear Quinn say
it, say that she wants her.

The cheerleader looks away again, distraught and clearly hesitant, but Rachel can’t take much
more of not knowing, and she pleads, “Please, Quinn.”

It seems to be the final little push that the blonde needs, and after a few moments, she nods slowly.
“It’s- It’s you,” she admits, breathing the words out like she was afraid that she wouldn’t have been
able to say the words in time. There’s a quick beat, and then a faint blush tints her pale cheeks as
she clarifies, “The person I like, I mean. It’s- It’s you.”

Rachel doesn’t even have the time to process anything until Quinn is shaking her head in a light
laugh. “God, I had this all planned out in my head, you know?” She smiles ruefully, a twinge of
disbelief to it, as if she doesn’t quite believe that she had managed to say the words. “I was going to
give you a whole grand romantic gesture, just the way you like it, but then I just- I just couldn’t
wait anymore, you know?”

Rachel still can’t muster up a reply, pretty sure her brain had short-circuited at what just happened.
She had kinda knew it was coming, but to really hear the words come out of Quinn Fabray’s
mouth, that her feelings are actually returned, it just sends doubt running through her body, and
she feels as if she has to check if this is just a dream, even with all the giddiness hazing her mind at
the same time.

But evidently, Quinn doesn’t seem to take her lack of response well, and with every passing
second, she seems to grow even more and more restless, fidgetiness breaking through her normally
collected demeanor. “Look, if you-” She lets out a breath here, voice sounding so small and frail in
that moment that all Rachel wants to do is find a way to make it better. “If you don’t reciprocate, I-
I’ll try my best not to let our friendship get weird, and I’ll- I’ll try to get over you.”

That last statement just sounds like the worst thing Rachel has ever heard in her life – yes,
including the time when her parents told her that Barbra Streisand wouldn’t be coming to her forth
birthday party – and she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Have you seen the way that I send love-eyes to you?”

Quinn blinks, as if not quite processing the words, and Rachel blushes. “I mean- It’s- It’s
something that I’ve been told that I do a lot, staring at you with heart-eyes.” Quinn still doesn’t
seem to understand, and Rachel begs herself not to mess this one up, summoning all the strength in
her to at least try. “Quinn, what I mean is, I like you too. And totally not in the platonic way. It’s-
It’s very much more than that, I- I like you a lot, actually.”

By the end of her sentence, she’s burning red and feeling like a bumbling fool, but she can’t keep
the small smile off of her lips, because she’s actually done it, confessed to Quinn that she likes her.
It takes a few seconds for the blonde to respond, Rachel waiting with a baited breath, but when
Quinn finally does, it’s with a beaming bright grin. “You…You do?”

And just like that, Rachel’s smile is also splitting her face in two, and it feels like for the first time
since realizing she that had a crush on Quinn, she can finally breathe again, and the feeling is so
freeing and light that she almost wants to burst into song right then and there. “I’m just- I’m sorry
for not responding sooner, I just- I just felt so relieved.” Rachel lets out a laugh, the airiness in her
chest uplifting. “Santana told me you were on your way to ask me out, and I-”

“Wait, what?” Quinn’s voice rings out, and Rachel shrugs, too happy to even care.

“Apparently she’s been scheming with Kurt to get us together,” she supplies.

“Bitch,” Quinn grunts, but the smile behind her tone is too bright to be covered, and Rachel grins
along with her like the lovestruck fool she is.

“I thought- I thought the girl you liked was someone else,” she confesses. “And I felt so
heartbroken and jealous and I just couldn’t- I couldn’t believe it when they said that you liked me
back.”

“I like you back,” Quinn immediately assures her, and her eagerness to do that just makes Rachel’s
heart cloud over with warmth and adoration. “I’ve just- I’ve had this plan to ‘woo’ you ever since I
figured out that I had a crush on you during the Summer, but then Jesse showed up, and I got
scared that I wasn’t enough, even though you just looked so sad when I said when I said I liked
someone, and I-” Quinn pauses here, the blush on her face becoming more profound, as if the next
part embarrasses her. “I had a bit of a freak-out over it.”

Rachel, of course, is quick to tell the blonde that she was definitely not alone in her plight. “First I
was in denial that my attraction to you went beyond physical, and when I figured that out during
our sleepover, I was in denial that you would ever like me!”

“I gave you Gardenias, Rachel, I thought for sure you would’ve figured it out, they mean secret
love for god’s sake!” Quinn practically exclaims, and Rachel blushes even harder. “And then, well-
Well, for a while, I thought that you actually did figure it out, but was just too nice to tell me that
you didn’t like me back, and then I kind of freaked out over that too, which was just- all kinds of
nerve-racking, really.”

It’s then that Rachel realizes, “Wow. We’ve been real idiots, haven’t we?”

“We have,” Quinn agrees, a smile cracking at her lips, and just like that, it’s like a dam has been
broken, because the next thing she knows, they’re both laughing hard at their obliviousness.

When they finally calm down, Rachel shakes her head in awe. “I can’t believe that Quinn Fabray
likes me.”

“Santana thought for sure that all my warding people off of you thing would’ve tipped you off,”
Quinn shrugs, grin still wide in place. “I just can’t believe that you like me.”

“Who wouldn’t like you? You’re the whole package.”

“Oh, you mean of depression, anxiety, and daddy issues?” Quinn snorts.

“Oh har har,” Rachel deadpans, and it’s with their familiar bantering that brings her epiphany.
“Huh. We’ve…pretty much been dating this entire time, haven’t we?”

“I…think so, yeah.”

“So…where does that leave us now?” she asks, and she doesn’t even try to keep the hopefulness
out of her tone.

“This is the part where I ask to take you out on a date.” Quinn smiles bashfully, and Rachel’s
stomach erupts with butterflies at the sight, heartbeat quickening even more even as she keeps a
weird sort of calm. “Is it weird that I still feel nervous about doing it?”

“I still feel like this is either just a dream or you’re going to change your mind any second, so I
don’t particularly think so, no.”

“I’m not going to change my mind ever Rae.” Quinn frowns, like the very thought repulses her,
before she smirks, “You’re my ticket to money and fame. How am I supposed to be a freeloader
any way else?”

“Oh hurry up and ask me out Quinn.” Rachel tries to keep the anticipation out of her voice this
time, but her chest is airy with all the ‘what-if’s that are actually happy now that she knows that her
feelings are returned, and she can’t help but fiddle with her fingers behind her back in nervous
excitement.

At this, Quinn’s demeanor shifts into something serious and yet very much of that of a hopeful
romantic, a sweet smile dawned as she steps forward to take Rachel’s hands in her own, with her
eyes lit up in the way that it always does when she’s about to do something poetic.
“Rachel Barbra Berry, you are my star, my Sun, and my everything. You light my entire world up
and you are the music residing in my heart.” Here, she pauses in one last show of tentativeness, as
if granting Rachel one last chance for an out that she definitely doesn’t want at all, and when
Rachel shows no signs of stopping her, Quinn lets out a steady breath. “So, will you grant me the
honor of taking you out on a date tomorrow night at 7pm sharp?”

A beat passes with Rachel’s brain processing the words, clouded with a haze of disbelief, and then
she’s absolutely swooning. Like really, really, really hard, because why the fuck is Quinn Fabray
so fucking romantic and sweet and cute and thoughtful and Rachel just kind of (one hundred
percent) wants to kiss her for the rest of her life and never let go.

“Yes,” she breathlessly sighs out, grin practically taking over her entire face. “A million times yes.”

The beaming smile that she receives in return makes her heart flutter in all the best ways possible
and she goes weak at the knees, but who should give a fuck about that right now? She has a date
with Quinn Fabray!

“You’re making me a very happy girl Berry,” Quinn giggles, and the sound is just so beautiful that
Rachel resolves to make the blonde laugh every single day of the rest of her life.

“Not as happy as me, no doubt.” She beams in return, and then as a thought occurs to her, she
flushes, requesting. “Um, while I am certainly very much elated and currently am dancing in joy
internally, this day has kinda been really emotionally taxing, and…I really want to cuddle with you
for a while.”

For a second, Quinn looks very happy to agree, but then she’s refraining with a reluctant smile.
“But I want to you to have the traditional first date experience,” she argues, a slight whine to her
voice that makes Rachel find her even more endearing, and the next part of the blonde’s sentence
is said quietly, with her ears pink as if she’s embarrassed. “And well…I’m pretty sure that I won’t
be able to stop myself from kissing you now that I know you like me back.”

Instantly, Rachel feels a primal need wash over her, because shit, she wants Quinn to kiss her so, so
badly, so badly it almost hurts, and she conveys her displeasure through puppy eyes and her biggest
pout, aiming it at Quinn in hopes of changing her mind.

“Rae, you know I can’t resist that,” Quinn laughs, though her eyes darken, a gleam in them that
makes Rachel’s lower stomach churn. “Come on, it’s just for a day, and then I’ll take you like, on
the best date ever, promise.”

“It’ll be the best date ever with cuddles before,” Rachel grumbles good-naturedly, lips still jutted
out.

Quinn’s lips tug into a small smile. “How about I give you some romantic words I’ve been
wanting to tell you for forever to tide you over for now?”

Rachel loves hearing the blonde speak her beautiful words, so the second she hears that, she’s
eagerly nodding, and Quinn laughs lightly. “Don’t kill me if it sucks, okay?”

She doesn’t even waste her time by rolling her eyes, and she huffs, “Quinn, your words are even
better than Plato’s. Stop downplaying yourself and tell me how much you adore me already.”

At this, Quinn’s smile turns into something much softer, and Rachel starts regretting her earlier
teasing remark a little bit, the moment feeling tender and soft now. “You know, I always hated the
fact that I couldn’t actually tell you that all those romantic poems I spouted before were about you
and not just about love in general.”

Rachel’s heart goes into overdrive with the words ‘love’, but she knows that they aren’t ready for
that at all, so she shoves it to the back of her mind for the moment, instead content to bask in
Quinn’s sweet and thoughtful words. “I’m really glad that you decided to come here today,” she
confesses instead, eyes seemingly unable to move away from Quinn’s face, just needing memorize
every inch and ridge of this moment and seer it into her heart forever. “I don’t think I could’ve
weathered another day of not knowing if you liked me back or not.”

“I’m glad too.” Quinn lightly smiles. “Now, hush so I can court you with my amazing words.”

Rachel complies immediately, shutting up so that she can fully concentrate, and Quinn lets out a
laugh. “You’re so precious and cute, Rachel Berry.”

Even though her heart flutters at a million times per second at that, she still faux-complains, “I was
promised amazing words, Quinn.”

“God, you’re so needy.” Quinn shakes her head fondly, and it’s with that that sends Rachel even
more into overdrive, because Quinn finds that endearing instead of annoying, and she’s not quite
sure how she had managed to find someone as amazing as the Cheerio. “Now, listen up Berry, I
don’t do this for free you know.”

“Oh I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” She sends Quinn a smirk full of promise that surprises even
herself, voice suddenly rough and down an octave, and from the depths of her mind, Bi-rry snorts,
So you’re finally learning how to properly flirt? Oh the day has come too soon.

Quinn evidentially doesn’t mind though, judging by her eyebrow quirked in interest, but the blonde
shakes it off for now and starts her monologue, eyes passionate.

“She is my complication and she is my absolute. She was never a part of my plan, but she is
somehow the foundation and basis of my hypothesis. She is the anomaly in my calculations, the
deviation in my deductions, the unorthodoxy in my observations, but yet, she is my paradigm in my
revolutions.” Quinn ducks her head shyly at this part, and the next words are softly spoken,
whispered with a reference through the air. “Should the day when I have the honor to hold her in
my arms and guard her liabilities for even just one night come, then it is then that I can say that I
truly have love down to a science.”

For a few seconds, all Rachel can do is stare in awe and wonder of this absolutely perfect human
being, and she huffs out a breath. “You made science sound romantic,” she says, breath taken
away, because those words are about her, and she has no idea how to respond to that. “…I really,
really, want to kiss you right now.”

Quinn closes her eyes in a show of restraint, and the thrill that rushes through Rachel is nothing but
a head rush all in itself, knowing that Quinn actively wants her, and it’s with that that “…Can you-
Can you tell me another one?”

“Just one more.” Quinn purses her lips. “I really gotta go plan our date tomorrow.”

At that, the flutter of happiness washes over Rachel again, and she grins uncontrollably. Quinn
Fabray has a crush on her, and knowing that makes her feel like the happiest girl on Earth.

“She is my world, and that is my truth,” Quinn starts, voice in its usual husk that sends arousal
straight to Rachel’s core. “If one day the world stops turning and I go blue, my perception granted
out of benevolence taken away as it was given, let the judge, jury, and executioner search my soul.
Should in my heart of hearts, she not stand there, then my world has crumbled. Among all the lies I
have told, let this one truth stand true.” Quinn looks her straight in the eye, a braveness entering
her, and she finishes, “Rachel Berry is my world, and that is my truth.”

Rachel’s pretty sure she needs to go to the hospital, because her face hurts from smiling too much.
She’s also pretty sure that she’s going to have a heart attack any minute soon, because she’s going
on a date with Quinn Fabray, and how the fuck is she going to prepare for it?

X-X-X-X-X

Walking up the stairs and into her room like a zombie, completely dazed, she doesn’t seem to
know where to start processing any of what had happened today, simply plopping into her bed and
absolutely emotionally exhausted.

Up until barely twenty minutes ago, she was heartbroken over the fact that the girl she liked had a
crush on someone else, and now she has a date with said girl, because apparently Quinn’s crush is
her, and the blonde has liked her since fucking Summer.

She still can’t quite believe it – This seems like something that would only come out of a romance
novel, and while it terrifies her that this might all just be some dream, it also elates her to no end,
filling her heart with a giddy excitement. She’s going on a date with Quinn Fabray!

Almost instantly, thoughts of things like oh god what am I going to wear and how am I supposed to
act tomorrow come up to the forefront of her mind, and she tries to take a few deep breaths to
steady herself, knowing that worrying over things can come tomorrow, with her only needing to
remember the basics for tonight, saving all the other things for a day when she isn’t so
emotionally-taxed.

Quinn likes her, and tomorrow at 7pm, she’s going to go on a date with her.

…Oh, who is she kidding, she’s going to jump around her room and squeal into her pillow even if
she doesn’t have the strength for it; the girl of her dreams is taking her out on a date and she’s
going to celebrate dammit!

Mmm, does that mean that we get to mas-

No!

X-X-X-X-X

She’s woken up the next day at exactly 5am, even earlier than her usual wake-up time.

By the sound of Kurt Hummel blowing up her phone.

Biting her lip and rubbing her sleepy eyes groggily, she reaches over to grab at her phone,
accepting the call with a yawn. “Hello, this is Rachel Berry speaking.”

“Rachel!” Kurt’s voice rings out loudly in her ears, causing her to wince as she puts it further away
from her ear.

“Yes?” she asks in reply, still polite as ever in classic Rachel Berry fashion, and it occurs to her
then the reason why Kurt is sounding so excited, making her lips curl at the reminder. “I assume
you want details of what had transpired yesterday?”

“Duh, of course woman, now spill!” is the shrill cry she gets in response.

She suppresses a laugh, feeling much better today after a good night of sleep. “You say that like
Santana hasn’t forced everything out of Quinn yet.”

“Quinn’s salty that Satan was nosy and is punishing her for it,” Kurt supplies easily. “Now you
wouldn’t do that to your best friend, would you?”

“I thought my best friend was Quinn,” Rachel tries her best not to snigger.

Kurt lets out a heaving sigh. “Oh please, you two were practically dating the way you were
before,” he huffs. “So that doesn’t count.”

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” Rachel teases with her tone light, before she thinks back to the
absolute amazingness that was yesterday night, and it turns into something much softer. “It was…
It was wonderful,” she breathes out. “She was so sweet, and then she said such beautiful words to
me, and at the end, when she asked me out…”

She draws this one out for her desire to linger on the bursting feelings of joy as much as she does it
for her love of theatrics, and Kurt huffs impatiently. “Well?”

“I said yes, of course!” Rachel’s voice comes out as a girly squeal, much higher in pitch than her
already usually chirpy tone, and Kurt joins her without a beat.

It lasts for all but a few seconds, and then Rachel is freaking out, all those suppressed worries from
yesterday coming back up with a fervor. “Kurt!” she practically screeches. “I have no idea what
I’m supposed to wear or do!”

There’s a brief silence from the other side of the phone, and then Kurt’s solemn voice is filling the
static air. “Fear not, I’ll be there in ten,” he says resolutely. “And then I’ll make you look so hot
Quinn isn’t going to be able to take her eyes off you.”

X-X-X-X-X

It’s somewhere in this ten-minute gap that Rachel realizes that she has to talk to her fathers about
this, and her chest seems to swell up with something that she doesn’t know if it’s fear or
excitement.

But she knows that her daddy would definitely kill her if she doesn’t inform him of these recent
events, and it’s only with a bit of a tentative heart that she walks down the stairs to find them,
already settled in the kitchen like the morning birds that they are.

“Fathers,” she starts, biting on her inner lip softly. “I have an announcement to make.”

Leroy quirks an eyebrow at her. “Please don’t tell me that you’re back in denial.”
“That would be a very major regression, yes,” Hiram agrees. “Plus, Lee and I are already expecting
wedding invitations soon, I’ve already started planning it!”

“Wedding invitations?” Rachel splutters, neck flushed.

Her dad sends an amused smile her way. “Hiram’s just being a bit too excited, that’s all,” he
chuckles. “But I am expecting a Spring wedding. Love the colors and all that, though I have to
admit, Quinn and baby blue is practically a match made in heaven.”

“But- But we’re literally just having our first date tonight!” Rachel bursts out, red in the face and
mind now filled with thoughts of a beautiful Spring wedding.

And also Quinn in a baby blue bikini. Don’t forget about that.

Bi-rry, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m currently having a mini-breakdown over thoughts of a
wedding with Quinn Fabray when we haven’t even had our first date!

And I’m currently having a mini-breakdown over thoughts of what exactly will happen that night of
the wedding, imagine all the-

That’s it. Ignoring you.

Bitch, you know that Quinn likes you now, so that means it’s totally fine to fantasize over her!

No, it still isn’t-

Like we haven’t been humping our pillow at night when we get too horny.

Look! The point is that even though Quinn…likes us, it’s still very inappropriate to use her for
sexual gratification!

Ain’t gonna stop us from doing it though.

…I hate how right you are sometimes.

We’re Rachel Berry, we’re always right, though I do guess I’m more correct most of the time.
Speaking of which, you should probably start listening to your dads’ rambling.

Wait what?

“-when did this happen, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us the moment it happened, I’m so
disappointed in you Rachel, I thought you knew better, I mean, how else are we supposed to start
planning out all the-”

“Hiram,” Leroy gently reminds him, and Rachel is snapped out of her daze, barely registering what
her daddy had said before.

“Um, it- it happened yesterday night,” she speaks, a shy lift to her voice even though she’s
practically bubbling with excitement. “She told me that the girl she liked was actually me, and
well…we’re going on a date tonight.”

She practically squeals out the last part, face stretching into a wide beam, and there’s exactly three
seconds until Hiram is jumping with delight. “Oh god you two are so perfect together,” he shrieks
in a way that is completely similar to Kurt. “I can’t believe that we’re going to have an Ivy Leaguer
in our family, Lee, I mean-”
At the combo of both paling and coloring showing on Rachel’s face, her dad tries to placate his
husband, “Hold on a second baby, you’re scaring our darling Rachel here.” He holds in a laugh at
the indignant look on her face. “And who says that Quinn is going to an Ivy League school
anyway, they’re just juniors you know.”

“Eh schematics,” Hiram waves the notion away. “And they’ll be married and having babies before
we even know it.”

“Daddy!” Rachel colors.

“Yes, baby girl?” Hiram simply bats his eyelashes at her, completely nonchalant.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Rachel maybe stomps her foot a bit (a lot) with a petulant pout, and
Leroy laughs, “Okay okay we’ll stop for now.”

At that, Hiram huffs out, “Says you, I need to plan out baby names, oh- do you think that-”

“Hiram,” Leroy gently chides, and the shorter man rolls his eyes with a pout rivalling Rachel’s,
mumbling a childish ‘fine’ in response. Leroy simply laughs, shaking his head, and he turns to
Rachel with a semi-serious look in his eyes.

“Rachel, no matter how much you think you aren’t, you’re still our baby girl.” His lips quirk
upwards when she narrows her eyes, and he continues, “And even though it seems like we’re all for
you being with Quinn, we don’t want to see you get hurt, so tell us that we’re making the right
choice here, that we’ll feel safe in letting Quinn take care of you.”

It faintly occurs to her that her dad’s wording is less of a ‘first-date’ speech and definitely more of
a ‘hand-in-marriage’ speech, but Rachel thinks that deep inside, they all know that this thing
between her and Quinn is going to be special, something that will last, and it’s why Leroy is so
serious in this.

But somehow, she doesn’t feel that pressure at all, because it feels as if everything has led to this
pinnacle moment, and she’s finally accepted that, accepted that Quinn is it for her, and her face
stretches with a bashful smile.

“She…She makes me happy,” she says finally, the last few words almost coming out as a laugh,
heart filled with so much joy and affection that she can’t help but have it all burst out, bubbling out
of her chest. “She makes me smile, she makes me laugh, and she just- she makes me so happy, and
it’s like I want to be there, standing by her side, just to make her happy in return, because that’s
what makes me happy, and I want to do that every day for the rest of my life…Does that make
sense?”

The words seem to come out of her without command, flowing out of her mouth as if demanding to
be heard, and she watches as her fathers exchange looks. There’s silence for a few beats, and for a
second, she’s worried, but then both of them are cracking smiles of their own, though theirs hold a
tint of sadness, as if knowing that she’s really grown up now.

Finally, it’s Leroy who speaks first. “She really makes you happy, huh?”

“She does,” Rachel beams, ducking her head.

“…You know what else means happy?”

The little smirk on her dad’s face probably should tip her off immediately, but by the time she
pieces it together and lets out a groan, Hiram is already continuing, “Honey, she makes you gay!”
 X-X-X-X-X

True to his word, the speed at which Kurt arrives is practically faster than light, and when he shows
up at her front door, she’s practically sighing with relief, already back to stressing out over her date
with Quinn. “Oh thank god you’re here.”

But really, can she just take a moment to recognize how utterly amazing those words sound? She
has a date with Quinn Fabray! Her. On a date. With Quinn!

Honestly I think that the sound of her moaning would be better, I mean have you even heard her
voice?

Dammit Bi-rry! I can’t think about that now, we have a date with Quinn – oh fuck does that sound
good – to think about!

And I have potential a sex marathon to think about! …Actually, now that you bring that up, I
should probably be on your side more, go listen to Kurt now.

…Why are you helping me?

Because Kurt is definitely going to make us look hot as fuck, and I’m thinking that we can probably
finally get laid tonight even with your blushing-virgin pretense.

You know what, I’m not even going to care about that earlier part, but pretense, what-

Bitch, you act like I don’t see how in all our fantasies we basically beg Quinn to fuck us senseless
with all the dirty talk in the world!

Yeah, reliving those fantasies again are such a turn-on, the one where Quinn is-

Crap, we have to listen to Kurt!

Oh, so now when we start getting to the good stuff is when you choose to take my advice.

Gah, you’re so frustrating!

“Rachel, where did you go?” Kurt snaps his fingers in front of her, and Rachel nervously smiles,
hoping that the boy won’t pay much attention to her flushed checks. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem
to notice as he shakes his head. “Never mind that, you must be worried sick! I mean, I don’t blame
you, you’re going on a date with the most sought-after girl in Lima, you have to be-”

“Kurt, you’re not making any of this much better!” Rachel grits out, trying to contain her inner
panic now that she’s gotten riled up.

“Trust me Rachel, I will,” Kurt nods soberly, before his features soften. “And…I know I don’t tell
you this enough, but you have a rocking bod, with legs that kill.”

She blushes slightly at the compliment, but she’s proud that she’s at least physically appealing –
oblivious as she may be, she’s caught Quinn staring at her legs numerous times before, the stares
she gets nowadays that she’s dressing better enforcing that, and for that at least, she’s grateful.
And well…it also helps that Quinn glares daggers at those who dare leer at her, tucking her
protectively under her arm as to make sure none of the boys try something.

Possessively, more like, Bi-rry snorts, and the realization dawns on her.

Ooooh.

Oh, right.

…We really were blind, weren’t we?

Excuse you, I knew she was hot for us the entire time!

Yeah yeah, you can stop with the lecture, alright?

Eh. I like talking about how hot Quinn is when she’s possessive anyway.

…Fuck.

And yet, we seem to be doing none of that at the moment.

You’re imagining it now, aren’t you?

Quinn. Fuck.

Dammit, listen to Kurt!

Right!

It’s at moment that she hears her phone chime with a notification for a new text, and both her and
Kurt squeal in excitement, though there’s definitely an undertone of anxiousness in her voice.

Looking at Kurt with her eyes wide, words tumble out from her lips uncontrollably. “Oh god she
texted me what am I supposed to do?”

“Read it, of course!” Kurt shrills back, and when Rachel can’t seem to force her limbs to move, he
gives her an incredulous look. “Well? What are you waiting for, woman?”

It’s what spurs her into action, and she scrambles to her bedside, grabbing her phone and unlocking
it. But before she can glance at the message, she shakes her head. “I- I can’t.”

Kurt lets out a groan. “Why, Rachel?”

“Maybe- Maybe she’s changed her mind, or maybe she has a thing to do urgently so we’ll have to
reschedule, or maybe I’m hallucinating and this is all just a fabrication of my mind and-”

“Oh that’s it, I can’t deal with you anymore,” Kurt huffs in exasperation as he rolls his eyes,
reaching over to grab her phone before she can even register the movement, and her yelp of protest
is quickly muffled as he reads the text. “Dress casual, with preferably jeans. See you soon, xoxo.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re both screaming again.

“Okay, okay!” Kurt shrieks, “Charcoal jeans, white top, black jacket, and I think you can get away
with wearing a beanie because it’s cold. Rachel, sit down right now, there are only twelve hours
 and a lot of work to do.”

Well…This is going to be good.

Chapter End Notes

Hope yall enjoyed it, and as always, special thanks to the people who left kudos and
commented.
I feel like absolute shit today, I’m so off-schedule with my writing I think I’m gonna
die. *cough* I’m highkey freaking out since I still haven’t done my Summer
homework or finished the next chaper *cough* someone save meeeeee
 V. Part IV
Chapter Summary

The one where YOU PEOPLE FINALLY GET WHAT YOU WANT

Chapter Notes

After three weeks of procrastination and writer’s block, I finally got this done lol.
(ARE YOU HAPPY VICKY?) Hopefully I’ll get back on track with my writing
schedule soon, there are so many one-shots/chapters that I should’ve finished by now
ahhhh. Blame my stack of homework :p

See the end of the chapter for more notes

7pm arrives all too soon and yet all too slowly, and looking in the mirror to check for any last
wrinkles on her dress or any imperfections in her light makeup, she wills herself to stop checking
the clock frantically and breathe in and out of her nose instead.

Steady breaths Rachel. Steady breaths.

There’s tranquility for a moment, and then…Oh who’s she kidding, she’s about to combust from
her nerves, both good and bad!

Get it together, woman!

I can’t, what if I do something and this goes horribly wrong, or what if I freeze up when she’s about
to kiss us- Oh god what if she tries to kiss us?

You know, I’d probably be more worried about our kissing technique.

…K-Kissing technique?

Mmhmm.

Fuck I think I’m gonna pass out from having a heart attack!

Bitch are you seriously believing me when I tell you to worry about our kissing technique?

Yes!

Ooohhh my god, are you fucking kidding me? We’re totally an awesome kisser.

Our only experiences have been Finn and Jesse!

Ew, don’t remind me of the F word’s sloppy kissing, I think I’m gonna vomit. Blech, think thoughts
of Quinn instead, thoughts of Quinn…
Don’t be so mean to Finn, he was an…okay kisser. Okay, maybe subpar, but it wasn’t terrible.

Ugh seriously, staaahp trying to pretend that he wasn’t, we’re already so turned off at the thought
of him and no amount of imagining Quinn in a bikini or wearing a strap-on is helping, dammit!

Bi-rry, we’re literally about to go on our first date with Quinn, and that’s what you’re thinking
about?

…Yes?

We’re supposed to be freaking out over our date!

Correction, you’re freaking out over our date, and I’m freaking out over what Quinn’s going to
wear…and especially what’s under it.

…You’re really frustrating most of the time, you know that?

Well, considering that I am you, yeah, I know it pretty well. Plus, this is all sexual frustration,
because someone won’t let me masturbate!

It’s at that second that the doorbell rings out, loud and clear, and Rachel nearly jumps out of her
skin, letting out an alarmed squeak.

Oh god it’s happening it’s happening!

Coaching herself to emit steady breaths, she tries hard to pretend that her legs don’t feel wobbly,
and with her heart beating out of its ribcage with loud thumps that signify both terror and
anticipation, she forces herself to relax.

Somehow, she manages to get herself out of her room and down the stairs in less than a minute,
definitely not wanting to have only her dads greet Quinn at the door, and when she reaches the
entry-way, it almost feels like she’s about to get a jump-scare at any minute.

Deep breaths Rachel, she repeats to herself in her head. Deep breaths.

From beside her, Hiram is practically bubbling in excitement while Leroy edges forward to open
the door, and for a second, Rachel is deathly afraid that this is all a dream, that this is going to
shatter at any moment, and she holds in her breath.

Boo!

Fuck you. Just…fuck you.

Bet you’d looove that, narcissist that we are. Though, I’d bet we’d love fucking Quinn even better.

You imagining fucking Quinn again?

Rachel? Heelloo?

Oh. Oh!
…Yup.

Oh holy shit Quinn looks fucking amazing!

I know, look at those jeans, they’re sticking to her curves like second skin!

Eh, I like how her camisole is showing off her tits more, I mean, look at them!

But her arms are covered by her denim jacket, I can’t see her muscles dammit!

Oh, are we having this debate again? It’s almost Winter, and later, if we ‘accidentally’ leave our
jacket in the car, she’ll have to give us hers, it’s a genius plan!

Wow we’re smart, I approve of this plan!

But really, all in all…

She looks…

“Perfect.”

She doesn’t even realize that she’d said it until Quinn bites down on her lip cutely with her cheeks
tinted, and Rachel flushes instantly. “I meant- You just look…”

“You look beautiful, Rachel,” Quinn finishes for her, lips curved in a smile as her eyes take her in.
“Absolutely amazing.”

Rachel can’t seem to muster a response other than grinning widely, eyes still raking over Quinn’s
form with reverent eyes, and Quinn smirks, instead turning to Leroy and Hiram with a box of
chocolate.

“Gifts for the Berrymen,” she sings.

Hiram’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh I like gifts,” he perks up. “Gimme gimme.”

Rachel finally snaps out of her reverie – because even if this turns out to be a dream, she’s going to
enjoy and savor this dammit – and pouts, jutting her lower lip out. “Hey, I’m the one you’re
supposed to be courting, where’s my gift?” she whines.

Quinn turns to her again, smile gaining a softer edge, and it’s almost like time slows down around
them in a perfect cliché, taking Rachel’s breath away. “Why, for you my lady, I of course have a
gift prepared,” the blonde drawls, lips curled. “Just gotta make sure your parents will allow me in
again first.”

From the side, Hiram is already stuffing the chocolate in his mouth. “Oh, this is good,” he groans,
nodding along. “Really, come by whenever you want Quinn, this tastes delicious!”

When Rachel blushes with embarrassment, Leroy sighs with a fond smile and tugs at his husband’s
arm. “Hiram, let’s give the girls some privacy, okay?”

The Jewish man looks as if he wants to protest, but one pointed look from Leroy sends him pouting
instead. “Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees. “You girls have fun.”

“I know you two have school off tomorrow, but come back before midnight,” Leroy reminds with
a semi-stern tone, and with that, he drags Hiram away, who’s mouthing ‘two o’clock’ at them,
leaving Rachel alone with Quinn.
Suddenly unsure of what to do, she tentatively smiles, and Quinn chuckles, voice breathy. “I bet
you’re just itching to know what my gift is, aren’t you?”

Rachel bites down on her lip, before her grin turns meek. “…Yes.”

“Of course you are,” Quinn’s lips quirk upwards as she shakes her head, and Rachel makes a small
whining sound from the back of her throat.

“Honestly Quinn, if you’re just going to dangle the prospect of a gift in front of me and not deliver,
I’d rather-”

“Rachel,” the blonde cuts in, and Rachel huffs at being interrupted, about to go on another tirade,
but then Quinn takes out something from her jacket, presenting it to her, and Rachel looks
downward with eager and curious eyes.

When she does, her heart stops.

Because Quinn’s holding out a blue-tinted glass heart, with pressed Gardenias encased in them, and
Rachel is enraptured, unable to take her eyes off of it.

“Those Gardenias I gave you before were meant to tell you of my secret love,” Quinn speaks softly,
almost a whisper in its reverence. “This…This is me proclaiming that my love isn’t secret
anymore.”

With that, the blonde pushes the glass heart into Rachel’s hand, and as her fingertips grasp onto the
golden rim of the object, only slightly bigger than her hand, it feels weighty and there, almost like
it’s cementing the fact that this is actually happening, that is this actually real, and Rachel can’t
manage words, eyes simply trained on the glass-heart.

She feels her face stretch into the widest of grins, with a few beats passing in silence, and then
finally, in a tone that is almost shy, Quinn asks, “Do you like them?”

It’s what prompts Rachel to shake out of her stupor, eyes flickering up to meet hesitant yet hopeful
hazels, and she can’t stop her body moving to hug the life out of the blonde even if she wanted to.
“I love it,” she beams.

“Oh. That’s-That’s good,” Quinn breathes into her hair, and Rachel basks in how good it feels to be
in Quinn’s arms – Quinn, her date – for a second, before she realizes something, and she’s pulling
away with a guilty look.

“Quinn, I- I didn’t get you a gift of my own.” She frowns.

“So?” The blonde quirks a brow at her. “I’m the one who’s taking you out on a date anyway.”

“But I want to able to make you feel special too.” Rachel nibbles on her lower lip. “…You deserve
that much, at least.”

Quinn’s eyes soften, and the next thing she knows, she’s being enveloped in strong and safe arms
again, and she’s unable to stop the content sigh that tumbles out of her lips. Every single
interaction that transpires between her and Quinn feels so much more significant now, because
Quinn likes her, as more than a friend, and that just makes everything so much better.

“You don’t have to give me stuff to make me feel special Rae,” the Cheerio murmurs, a light smile
playing on her lips that just makes Rachel’s stomach do little flips and tumbles. “You already do
that by just being here, and when you smile at me, you make me feel so, so special, you have no
idea.”

“If it’s even a fraction of the way I feel when you look at me, then trust me, I definitely do,”
Rachel says, blushing, before she purses her lips. “I still want to give you something though.”

“Would it be cheesy to ask you to give me your heart?” Quinn grins cheekily, and Rachel almost
wants to whisper that she already has it, but then the blonde is continuing, “You can take me out
instead next time, you’ll be fine.”

“N-Next time?” she squeaks.

Here, Quinn’s look turns shy. “If- If you want to.”

“I want to,” she immediately replies, before blushing at her over-eagerness. “I mean, I- I’d love
to.”

There’s a vague voice in her head freaking out over ‘crap, does that mean we have another date
with her’ and ‘holy fuck how are we going to be able to plan it’, but she pushes all of that to the
back of her mind, because this night is already so perfect, and she’s going to enjoy this to the
fullest.

Setting the glass heart aside into one of the drawers near her with a reverent hand, not sure if this is
actually real or not, she turns back to Quinn, who’s offering her arm out like the chivalrous person
she is.

Rachel takes it gladly, the feeling of Quinn’s arm in hers immeasurably perfect, and blonde opens
the door for her before Rachel can have the chance to do so herself, bowing dramatically. “My
lady.”

“Why, thank you,” she laughs in return.

And as they get into Quinn’s car, Rachel knows that this is probably going to be one of the most
magical nights of her life.

X-X-X-X-X

“Ohmygod, Quuiiinnn,” she whines. “Tell me where are we going, dammit!”

Quinn simply sends her a smirk. “You’ll see when we get there, and no amount of pouting or
giving me puppy-eyes will work.”

“But- But-”

“No buts.” Quinn shakes her head, and Rachel can just tell that the blonde is suppressing a laugh.

She continues to beg and plead for a good ten minutes to no avail, and she slumps against her seat,
arms crossed as she turns away.

“Oh, don’t look so down,” Quinn says, eyes still shining with laughter. “You look pathetic and sad,
and I don’t like it when you look like that.”

“Well serves you right,” Rachel huffs. “You better make it up to me with the perfect date Fabray.”
“Oh I will,” Quinn drawls, voice so full of promise that Rachel can’t help the rolls of anticipation
that reverberate through her body. The Cheerio reaches down to stroke her thigh teasingly, and
Rachel’s breath hitches, just to be met with, “…But I’m still not telling you where we’re going.”

She hmpfs and turns her head to the other side once more, but nonetheless, she can’t hide her
smile, full of giddiness that she’s going on a date with Quinn Fabray, which is like, the best thing
to ever happen to her!

Quinn seems to be as excited as her, as there’s a pleased aura coming off of her, and it fills
Rachel’s heart with the most airy of feelings when she realizes that she’s actually the one who’s
doing this, who’s making the blonde happy, and she finds that she wants to do just that for the rest
of her life.

When Quinn finally parks nearby a secluded park trail, it feels like an almost-eternity has passed,
even though Rachel knows that it’s only been around twenty minutes. Still, twenty minutes is a
long drive when put in terms of small-town Lima, and she lets the blonde lead her out of the car
with curious eyes.

“So now can you tell me what we’re doing here?” she asks, glancing around the tranquil park trail,
not a single person in sight.

Quinn shoots a shit-eating grin at her. “Nope.”

“I don’t like you.” Rachel pouts good-naturedly. “You’re a meanie.”

At this, the blonde gasps dramatically. “Excuse me, who exactly, is the person who planned out a
whole amazing date for you?”

Rachel’s heart threatens to go into overdrive at the reminder that she’s actually going on a date that
Quinn’s planned and prepared for, and she has trouble hiding her smile as she says, “Well, this
better turn out to be amazing soon.”

“It’s not amazing already?” Quinn places a hand over her heart in faux-shock. “Oh how you hurt
my heart, Rachel Berry.”

Unable to keep up the façade any longer, Rachel giggles, and she hesitates for a second before
quickly leaning forward to plant a kiss on the Cheerio’s cheek. When she pulls back, there’s a light
pink on Quinn’s face, and she’s met with a wide smile.

“There,” she says softly, heartbeat loudly thumping in her ears. “All better?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Quinn drawls, though the breathy tone of her voice gives her
away. “You should try again, just to make sure.”

Biting her lip gently, Rachel’s heart speeds up even more if it’s even possible, and she presses her
lips on Quinn’s cheek once more, right at the corner of the blonde’s lips, and this time she lingers
for a few seconds before pulling away, knowing that she won’t able to control herself if she stays in
the taller girl’s orbit any longer.

Her lips buzz with electricity, tingling in the best ways possible, and it makes her feel all sorts of
giddy, because her lips were just in contact with Quinn Fabray, and fuck did it feel good! She’s
suddenly filled with the urge to test if kissing the honor-roll student’s lips would feel even better,
and she blushes immediately.

Quinn definitely notices. “I was hoping you’d do it just a bit more to the side, but that works too I
guess.” Here, she leans in closer with eyes gleaming, so close that if Rachel just moves forward
just a bit, she would- stop, bad Rachel!

Quinn smirks, lips curling in an absolutely delectable line, and Rachel can feel warm breathing
puffing against her, igniting her already overheated skin. “Plus, I’m saving our first kiss. It’s gonna
be absolutely perfect, because you deserve it that way.”

Feeling her breath hitch, Rachel reflexively swallows, heart skipping a few beats, and she feels as if
she’s trapped in pools of hazel eyes, drawing her in and keeping her there forever. “I hope you
know I don’t kiss on the first date, Fabray,” she finally manages, licking her lips.

When Quinn’s eyes trace the action with fervor, Rachel feels a wave of heat wash over her,
because Quinn actually wants her, and having someone appreciate her makes her feel like she
matters, like she’s treasured and special, and she knows that if Quinn allows it, she’s definitely
going to be kissing on the first date.

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” Quinn husks, and Rachel’s knees go weak as she closes her
eyes for a second to reign herself in.

“Oh?” she baits. “I’d like to see you try.”

At this point, Quinn’s eyes are so dark it’s like she’s being watched by a predator, and if anything,
that just gets her going even more, makes her lower stomach churn with arousal. “I will,” the
blonde promises. “But that’s not going to happen if we just keep standing here.”

Ha, she has no idea how hot she is even when she’s just standing, we’d maul her even if she was
wearing a trash bag!

…True.

Mmm, what are the odds I can convince you to just let loose and make out with her right here and
then?

It’s…slowly rising up.

Eh, I’ll take my chances.

“Rae, we gotta get going, or we’ll be late,” Quinn gently reminds.

Pushing away the haze of lust clouding her mind for the moment, she perks up eagerly. “Ooh, are
you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“No,” Quinn chuckles, a fond look on her face. “But you’ll find out soon if you actually get that
cute ass of yours moving.”

Rachel goes very willingly after that, dragging Quinn along the path with a pep to her step – totally
not spurred on because Quinn called her ass cute – and after a while, they reach an open clearing.

Gasping when she sees the large picnic set up in the middle, with glowing candles and lanterns
lighting up the space around it, she turns to Quinn with shining eyes, amazed. “You- You did this?”

Quinn gives her a slightly sheepish smile, as if embarrassed. “I might’ve called in a few favors so
that this was set up when we were driving here. That’s why, uh- That’s why the food is still fresh
and stuff.”
Spinning around to face the blonde, Rachel feels her face stretch into a wide beam, and she
launches herself at the girl, wrapping her arms around a lithe frame. “You’re- You’re amazing,” she
breathes out. “And you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”

“Trust me, if it’s even a fraction of how much I want to kiss you, then I know.” Quinn nuzzles her
chin against Rachel’s head, and the cheerleader nudges her slightly. “Now, go look the other way.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Rachel does as she’s asked, and when she’s met with the sight of a
giant movie screen, her jaw drops. “Quinn…”

“It was a pain in the ass finding the people who were in charge of playing movies, you know?”
Quinn smiles, hand firmly clasped in Rachel’s. “But I managed to get them to clear the place out,
just for us.”

“What- How?”

Quinn’s smile dims a bit here, eyes turning somewhat reminiscent. “I knew them from church,”
she explains, a small quirk to her lips in that way of hers, as if she thinks it’s amusing. “Said that I
wanted to bring a group of elderly here to watch movies, as a way to atone for my ‘sins’. They
bought it of course, and gladly gave me the entire night to do whatever I wanted.”

Rachel feels the butterflies in her stomach dissipate. “But Quinn, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did Rae,” the blonde cuts her off, a slight roll to her eyes. “…You definitely deserve
it, anyway.”

Her heart warms at that, but she pushes it away for now as she turns back to Quinn, shaking her
head. “Quinn, you…you put yourself into a vulnerable state, and you had to hide your true self
from others just for this date. You know I would’ve been perfectly fine with the classic dinner and
a movie right?”

“I like one-upping everyone else Berry, get used to it,” Quinn chuckles dryly, before she arches a
brow in a perfect line. “And who’s to say that I didn’t enjoy manipulating the hell out of those
assholes?”

Rachel sends a pointed look to the blonde, and Quinn sighs, reaching over to take her hand. “Look
Rach,” she sighs. “You can lecture me all you want later, but right now, I really just want to enjoy
our date. I’ve been looking forward to this day for months, and well- well I kinda want this to just
be…perfect.”

Quinn’s words alone turn Rachel to mush already, and with the added effect of the Cheerio’s
hopeful lip-bite, Rachel practically melts. Becomes jelly. Swoons, take your pick. Seriously, who
could ever resist a Quinn Fabray looking like that?

“It would already be perfect, because I’m going on a date with you,” Rachel shrugs, a bashful smile
on her lips, and with a quick burst of bravery, she lifts Quinn’s hand up to land a soft kiss on it, lips
meeting soft alabaster skin. She pulls away hastily though, red on her cheeks, and she tries to play
it off. “Now go and shower me with picnic food.”

“As my lady commands.” Quinn’s lips part in a perfect smile, and Rachel instantly feels proud of
herself for making it appear.

Letting the Cheerio guide her to the meticulously set up picnic, she opens one of the baskets with
an eager hand, and Quinn slaps her hand away, chuckling. “Oi, hands off the goods. That’s
dessert.”
“Fine,” Rachel pouts, but as soon as Quinn brings out the pasta, she perks up, eyes lighting up.
“Ooh, gimme!”

“So needy,” Quinn laughs, but the taller girl still obeys, serving her some on a plate as she hands
over some utensils. “There you go.”

Not even bothering to ask if its vegan, Rachel digs in immediately, and when she recognises from
the taste that Quinn definitely cooked this herself, she turns to the blonde with awed eyes. “You
cooked all of the food?”

“It’s not poisoned Berry, you’ll be fine.” Quinn’s lips quirk. “My food can’t be that terrible.”

“Quinn, stop fishing for compliments, we all know how much I adore your food.” Rachel rolls her
eyes good-naturedly, even though the thought of Quinn making food just for her causes her
stomach to do somersaults and flips, making her heart speed up dangerously. “It makes you look
desperate, and begging isn’t a good look on you.”

“Oh Rae, you really should know by now that I can make anything look good on me,” Quinn
smirks, leaning in with a gleam in her eyes as if she’s a lioness closing in on her prey, and Rachel
shudders, chills running up her skin along with the cool wind. “Though, you definitely would know
how begging would look, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah?” she goads, not able to manage much more, as Quinn is literally right there, and the urge to
lean forward and close that excruciatingly small distance is so strong that she feels like she’s going
to combust any second.

“Mmhmm,” Quinn hums, voice smooth and low. “Because Rachel, by the time I’m done with you,
you’re going to be begging for more.”

At that, Rachel can’t hold in the utterly desperate sound that slips out of her lips anymore, and she
groans. “Quinn, you can’t do this to me right now,” she grits out, tone rough and restrained.

“Oh? And why not?” the blonde husks, eyes darkened and burning golden. “I can do anything I
want to you Rae, because I know you’d let me.”

It’s right then that it all seems to reach a boiling point, and Rachel’s about to lean in and just take
what’s being dangled in front of her, but then Quinn’s pulling away and offering, “Drink?”

The blonde looks nonchalant as ever, the only sign being her low tone and hooded eyes, and
Rachel closes her eyes. “Fuck me,” she mutters under her breath. “Just…fuck me.”

“Huh, guess you don’t want a drink after all.” Quinn shrugs easily, before adding an offhand, “And
I’d love to do that, but you’re the one who said no kissing on the first date, so I’d assume we’d
have to wait till at least date fourteen for sex.”

…Yeah, Rachel is seriously going to die of sexual frustration one of these days, isn’t she?

Pretty much, yeah, Bi-rry supplies.

X-X-X-X-X
The movie soon starts after that, with the black screen flickering on, and Rachel perks up, bringing
her attention away from the (delicious) food and to the movie screen.

To her right, she hears Quinn let out a chuckle at her eagerness, and she feels the blonde shuffle
closer to her, so that their shoulders and arms are touching. It’s a physical contact that is already
familiar to them, but Rachel can’t help the blush that appears on her face, as if she’s a schoolgirl
going on her first date.

Shyly sneaking a glance to her right, she finds Quinn’s cheeks slightly flushed pink as well, but
before she can dart her eyes away, hazel eyes meet hers, and she’s unable to look away, the sheer
intensity of the blonde’s gaze captivating.

“You are aware that the movie’s starting, right?” Quinn’s lips quirk.

Her eyes immediately move to full, kissable lips at the action, and she breathlessly hums, “But
you’re so much prettier to look at.”

Quinn’s lips stretch wider at that, and then Rachel’s being burrowed into the Cheerio’s form, both
of them snuggling up closer. Soaking in the warmth and protection, she lets out a satisfied sigh, and
Quinn reminds, “Rae, the food’s going to get cold.”

“Yeah yeah, watch the movie and eat the food. Got it.”

“At least try to sound happy about it, won’t you?” Quinn snorts, and Rachel turns her head without
a beat, about to express how much she truly appreciates all of this, but then Quinn’s rolling her
eyes and continuing, “And I swear Berry, if you don’t eat, I’m going to spoon-feed it to you
myself.”

It almost seems to reinforce her earlier belief, and when Rachel turns back to the movie, it’s with a
smile.

X-X-X-X-X

The rest of the dinner-and-movie almost seems like something out of the happiest of romcoms,
with lingering touches and longing looks, and even when the end-credits to the movie rolls, Rachel
still feels the air around her tingle, charged with an electricity that is both hot and airy with
giddiness at the same time.

Setting aside the long-finished plate of dessert aside, she meets Quinn’s eyes, and the blonde grins,
that special smile that is wide and happy. “Did you like it?”

Truthfully, Rachel didn’t even pay much attention to the movie, more occupied with stealing
glances at Quinn the entire time, but she still beams back stupidly. “I did,” she hums. “Thank you
for bringing me out here.”

“Thank you for letting me.” The blonde’s eyes shine with sincerity, and she pushes herself up (with
so much grace it’s practically unfair) to stand, offering her hand out. “Now, my lady, shall we take
a night-time stroll?”

Rachel lets loose a giggle, thoroughly enjoying this old-fashioned banter they have going on, and
takes Quinn’s hand in her own, getting up to her feet as well. “We shall.”
They clean up the picnic fast enough, packing it all neatly into the baskets, and they walk arm in
arm around the trail, talking about everything and nothing at all.

They talk more about how Quinn had barricaded herself in her room for a week after realizing that
she liked girls, or more specifically Rachel, and they talk about how Rachel had practically worked
herself into a frenzy while fretting over if Quinn’s sweet gestures actually meant something.

They laugh over how oblivious and blind they were, and Rachel just loves how they’re able to just
do this, walking around aimlessly while chattering about things varying in importance, because it
doesn’t really matter in the long run.

What matters is that they’re enjoying the other’s company, exploring and finding out about all the
small things, and the dynamic they have is just special, something that Rachel thinks she will never
grow tired of.

Even better is that before, it seemed like certain topics couldn’t be discussed further in depth,
especially regarding love and the future, but now that they’re actually doing this, going on a date as
more-than-friends, it’s like the floodgates have opened, and Quinn’s musings about love just seem
to become even more passionate.

When Rachel works up the courage to ask her about it, she’s met with a quirk of lips. “Believe it or
not, I was actually restraining myself before, because I was afraid that I’d slip up about some
things. I was worried you’d end up figuring out that the person I was waxing poetry about was
more a five-foot-two loudmouth than something out of the abstract instead.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she huffs at Quinn’s smirk, before a thought occurs to
her, and a slow smile stretches across her face. “Now Miss Fabray, tell me more about this poetry
of yours.”

Quinn grins, before rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “You just want to listen to more words about
you, don’t you?”

“I’m narcissistic, we all know that,” Rachel waves off, and her eyes light up. “Now tell me how
much you adore me.”

“I’m starting to feel like you like me more for my words than anything else,” Quinn says dryly,
and Rachel scoffs at the notion.

“Quinn, I like you for you,” she’s quick to assure. “Your words are just a part of the package.”

“Yeah yeah,” the blonde faux-grumbles, before straightening to deliver her monologue. “Like the
rising tide sweeping me off my feet, the gust of wind guiding me to a destination I may never
reach, or the light illuminating another path that takes me away from my unforgiving destiny, she
is my wayfinder. I may never see her, but I know she is always there, beckoning me with the call of
an angel.

“She is the reason why I do the things I do in this mundane and melancholic ordinary world of
manipulation and deceit, the reason I find strength to face my faceless sins blared by the light, and
the reason I am able to give my faith to the vulnerability of the dark night.” Quinn takes a breath
here, and Rachel is nothing but enamoured, hanging on to every word. “I have the will to ask
‘Why?’ in my conviction of Rachel Berry.”

They’re now standing idle under a tree, picnic baskets placed on the ground, and right then, Quinn
is looking so beautiful with her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight that Rachel is unable to
form words, too taken to even do anything, and something must show on her face, because the next
thing she knows, Quinn is letting out a light chuckle.

“You know, Santana gave me a really long rant about how we were both useless lesbians when I
asked her to help plan this date,” the cheerleader brings up. “And we really are.”

“We still managed to find our way here,” Rachel shrugs, voice low and breathless.

“We did,” Quinn agrees, before a soft smile dawns on her porcelain features. “I’m so happy we got
to go on this date Rae.”

“Believe me, I’m still in disbelief that this is even happening.” She shakes her head, before she
bites down on her lip softly. “You’ve…You’ve been amazing today. Well, you’re amazing every
day, but you- you prepared a picnic, cleared out this movie park, and I just- I don’t really know
what else to say other than thank you for all of this, for taking a chance on me, because I know that
I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and I ramble a lot, just like I’m doing right now, but-”

She’s cut off by Quinn taking a step forward and pressing their lips together, and she lets out a
small squeak of surprise – is this even happening? – before easing into it as well, kissing back for
all she’s worth.

And, can she just say – Quinn Fabray kissing her? Best feeling in the world.

The blonde moves her lips expertly, demanding but yet gentle at the same time, and Rachel has to
move her arms to Quinn’s neck to steady herself. Feeling arms wrap around her midsection, a deep-
rooted hunger in her yearns for more, and she kisses the girl harder, in a quest to make this as
memorable for Quinn as it definitely will be for her.

Even being closed-mouthed, the kiss is pure electric, causing little bursts and shockwaves to erupt
from her lips to all the way where her core is throbbing in desire, and Quinn works her everything
with a mastery that makes her go weak at the knees, playing her like an instrument.

The kiss might be tame and sweet, but Rachel feels her entire being lit aflame, like she’s
simultaneously being broken down only to be built back up stronger again, and it’s as if she’s never
been kissed before, her not-even sixteen years of life ceasing to exist like it’s all meant nothing
until this pinnacle moment.

She’s kissed Finn and Jesse – ew, don’t remind me, Bi-rry gags in the back of her brain – but she’s
never quite felt like this when she was with them, just so out of uncontrol and needing more with
an urgent fervor, and practically all the clichés happen, like feeling explosions and starbursts
behind her eyelids and her head becoming airy as the air around them seems to crackle with energy.

Quinn kisses in a way that is impossible to forget, tasting like mangoes and vanilla, and when the
blonde tilts her head just so, it’s simply magical, the inferno in Rachel’s lower stomach consuming
her from within. It burns, so, so good, and she isn’t able to hold in her little gasp of pleasure.

A low and breathless sound that’s rough and deep, she doesn’t think she’s ever heard anything like
it come out from her before, and it’s what prompts them to snap back to reality, Quinn finally
pulling away reluctantly.

Rachel lets out a small whine from the back of her throat, and their foreheads rest against each
other as they pant to regain their breath. She’s face to face with Quinn’s hooded eyes, burning
golden and seemingly endless, and the sheer intensity that she sees clouded by lust causes her to
clench her thighs together in an attempt to keep herself under control.
“Fuck,” she breathes out, chest heaving. “That was…That was-”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees, her lips curved in a beautiful smile.

It takes a few minutes for them to fully catch their breath (and to reign in their arousal), wrapped up
in each other’s arms, and Quinn pulls away slightly, a small smirk on her face. “I can’t believe I’ve
rendered Rachel Berry speechless.”

Not even caring about the jab at her, Rachel resists the urge to press her fingers against her tingling
lips, looking into Quinn’s eyes with awe. “I can’t believe Quinn Fabray kissed me.”

Something flickers across the blonde’s face, and then soft lips are being pressed against her own
again, before disappearing just as fast. “And she’s kissed you again.”

Not satisfied at all, Rachel feels her chest rumble, and she leans forward, capturing Quinn’s lips
with her own. The feelings of giddiness seem no less strong than the first time around, and Rachel
feels that pang between her legs again.

It would almost be terrifying, how just a few simple kisses can render her weak and light-headed,
but it feels so damn good, and it’s then that Rachel decides that whoever deprived her of Quinn
Fabray’s kisses for so long should be in prison or something.

Well then, I better make up for lost time.

Attacking Quinn’s lips with a fervour, she can tell that the blonde is holding back, as the strong
arms around her waist are stubbornly refusing to move, as if Quinn’s afraid she won’t be able to
stop herself if she does.

It just makes Rachel kiss the blonde harder, her usually timorous ways being overpowered by her
need for Quinn to just let go and kiss her the way Rachel can tell she wants to, and she furiously
covers swollen pink lips with her own again and again.

“Rae,” Quinn finally gasps out, tearing her lips away from Rachel’s. “We have to- Shit- We have to
stop Rach,” she groans out between kisses, and Rachel pulls away immediately, worry now in her
features.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, did I- did I go too fast?”

“Rachel, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Quinn assures her, eyes still dark in a way that makes
Rachel’s mouth dry, the moisture all disappearing to…somewhere. “It’s just that, I don’t know if I
can restrain myself if we do much more.”

“What if I don’t want you to restrain yourself?”

The words flow out of her mouth before she can even fully process herself what she’s saying, and
Quinn growls, almost animalistic in its nature.

Jesus, are you trying to sound slutty?

Excuse me? How am I acting slutty, the nerve-

Oi, spare me the rant, aight? I fully approve, at this rate maybe we’ll actually get laid tonight!
Honestly, I thought that you would never learn to flirt, I’m like awed right now. Now, drag our
tongue over our lips, she loooves it when we do that, yep, just like that – oh, I love it when you
cooperate!
Quinn’s eyes darken even more if it’s even possible, and she grits out, “Rachel.”

“Yeah?” She grins, panting out of breath and totally fine with that.

“The things I want to do to you are definitely not first-date material.”

Oh fuck fuck fuck yeeeessss.

Bi-rry!

Whaaat? I thought we actually agreed on something!

But I don’t want our first time to be in a forest!

Oh please, we both know Quinn’s too much of a romantic to let that happen, but I need at least a
little something, aight? Or at the very least, more kisses.

…That, I can agree on.

I know, right? Kissing Quinn Fabray is so fucking good, seriously I neeeeed!

Oh crap, she’s talking to us again!

Even double crap, she’s walking us back to the car and that means no more kisses!

“-you deserve something special and magical for your first date, and if we go any further…I’m
going to end up ravishing you in the forest.”

Quick, put on our best seductive smile and ask ‘What’s wrong with that?’!

“Whaa?”

…Ugh, I should’ve known this phase wouldn’t have last long.

Shut up, Bi-rry.

Yeah well, I’ll shut up when we start kissing Quinn and her perfect delicious lips again!

Ugh!

“Come on Rachel, I gotta get you home,” Quinn says, laughing, and Rachel pouts, loving the way
her swollen lips are still buzzing with electricity. Quinn shakes her head fondly, before pressing a
quick kiss to her lips, pulling away with a slight blush. “There. Happy?”

“So happy, Quinn Fabray,” she murmurs, smile practically splitting her face in two.

X-X-X-X-X

When Quinn delivers her to her front porch, Rachel sighs, “I don’t suppose I could convince you to
stay the night and cuddle with me?”

“Nope,” Quinn grins. “Plus, I’m pretty sure we’ll end up doing something else rather than
cuddling, and well…I don’t want Leroy to kill me for possibly defiling his daughter.”
 Thoughts of Quinn…defiling her flood her mind instantly, and she bites down on her lip to stave
off the feelings of lust. “But I miss my Quinn-cuddles,” she grumbles instead.

“You already got your fill today,” Quinn counters, before a slow smile shows on her lips. “So…
Was the date amazing and perfect like you expected?”

“No.” She shakes her head, a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, and when Quinn’s eyes
dim, she hurries to add, “You went far and beyond that Quinn. It was…One of the best nights of
my life, and I thank you for that.”

Quin hums noncommittedly, but it’s clear she appreciates the words. “Do I get a goodnight kiss
then?”

“Please,” Rachel practically sighs out, and they share one last kiss, short and sweet, before pulling
away.

“I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, a hopeful and breathless tilt to her voice.

“First thing in the morning Berry,” Quinn promises. “Goodnight, my lady.”

And with that, the blonde walks back down the pathway to get in her car, Rachel looking and not
budging from her spot as Quinn drives away. A familiar sense of loss rushes through her, the ever-
present fear that this goodbye could mean goodbye forever, and even though she knows it isn’t, it
still feels like a dream waiting to end.

It’s almost like a call-back to that first night when Quinn tutored her, and it’s that reminder that has
Rachel remembering that this isn’t just a dream, that this is all real and better than before. This
time instead of just smelling the scent of mango and vanilla, she can actually taste it on her lips, a
fleeting aftertaste that has her hopeful for more.

She smiles.

Chapter End Notes

Lookie at me, being so witty and doing a throwback to chapter 2 lol. But it’s nice to
see how my writing’s evolved, going from doing the laziest ‘they spend the next few
days in a nonstop conversation’ to actually taking the time to flesh things out. Thank
you all for all the follows/reviews as always, and I’ll see you guys next week :D
 VI. Part I
Chapter Summary

The one where I scrape it together at 2am while on 3 hours of sleep but who cares
because they're just too friggin adorable together

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

VI.

“Baby,” she pleads, as soft lips ghost by her ear. “I need you so, so badly, I can’t take it
anymore.”

“Mm,” her lover hums, lips moving to trail alongside her jaw, and when Rachel turns her head to
claim those full, plump lips, they’re gone in a flash. She lets out a whimper, and a husky laugh
sounds out. “Rae, you’re not going to get your reward that easily,” the low voice of her dream
lover purrs. “You have to earn it.”

“Fuck Quinn, please!” she practically sobs out in frustration, her core throbbing as her entire body
aches with a need. From where’s she at on top of her, Quinn lets out a growl, guttural and rough.

“Say my name Rachel,” the blonde orders, eyes ablaze as her hands work fervently. “Scream it.”

Rachel very eagerly obliges as Quinn attacks her neck, and then she’s groaning out, “Please
Quinn, I need you, I need- I need-”

“What you do need Rae,” Quinn husks, voice demanding in all the best ways possible. “Tell me
what you need, and I’ll give it all to you.”

“I- I need to you touch me,” she moans as Quinn reaches a hand up to knead at her breast. “I need
you to make love to me, and then fuck me hard baby.”

Quinn lets out a grunt, and then, “As you wish.”

With that, Quinn’s hands finally, finally, snake to where Rachel wants them the most, and right
then-

Her phone goes off.

Waking up with her core pounding and blood rushing, she lets out a groan.

Fuuuccckkkk, who interrupted our niceass dream, I swear, I’mma cut a bitch!

It’s probably Kurt, but god, I completely agree with you. That dream was just getting started too!

…wait, you’re actually not protesting against our sex dreams anymore? Oh, I thought this day
would never come!
No! I mean- Well…It’s not like we can stop our dreams, so…might as well enjoy them. That doesn’t
mean I’m still letting us fantasize in daylight though!

Pftt, you never stop us from fantasizing, you just like making us more repressed. Huh…Ohmygod,
are you actually doing this to wind us up so that when we finally get our cherry popped by Quinn
it’ll be like, the best thing ever? Damn bitch, never thought you had it in you!

Bi-rry, I can’t believe you would think that, of course not! I’m offended you would-

Ugh, you know what? Back to killing Kurt, at least he didn’t interrupt the schoolgirl dream. Mmm,
do I love that dream. But honestly, I thought he already got every single detail he needed
yesterday!

Well, he did keep us up until 2am to spill everything.

I know we have a school holiday today, but sheesh, you’d think that that boy would have a life by
now!

Be nice!

You’re the one who’s still not letting us masturbate, so this is what you have to deal with, dammit!

Gah, what part of first date experience do you not understand!

And what part of mind-blowing orgasm do you not understand!

Serio- I can’t- Ugh!

Not even bothering to check the caller ID, she slams the phone to her ear and grunts, “Whaaaat?”

Expecting Kurt’s girlish squeal to fill the air, she’s entirely not prepared for Quinn Fabray’s dry
dusk. “Well, I see that you’re definitely grumpy today,” the blonde laughs, before teasing, “I know
that not waking up to me is hard, but like, maybe try yoga a bit. Might help with the anger issues.”

Rachel doesn’t even have words, mouth gaping open. Neck flushed, she feels her cheeks heat up
with mortification, and Quinn’s voice rings out again. “Uh, Rachel? You still here?”

“I’m here!” she yelps out, and when Quinn chuckles at her, she blushes even harder. “No, I mean-
I- I thought you were Kurt.”

“Let me guess, he forced all of the details out of you after our date?” Quinn asks, a slight laugh to
her voice, and Rachel feels her heart quicken at the reminder that yesterday was actually real.
“Santana did too, the bitch, kept calling until I had to answer.”

Rachel lets out a giggle, relaxing again, because nothing about her and Quinn’s dynamic has really
changed. It occurs to her that they’ve always been…more, so it’s not that different from what they
were doing before, and she loves that their interaction always comes so easily. “Well, she’s your
best friend, so of course she would want to know everything.”

From the other end of the line, Quinn lets out a snort. “Oh please, she just called in to remind me of
how many favours I owe her after she helped with the date-planning. And you’re my best friend.”

Unable to keep the smile off her face, Rachel grins widely. “But I’m more than that, so it doesn’t
really count.”

The words just come out of her mouth before she has a chance to really think about them, and a
hitch of breath is heard from the other side of the line.

Rachel’s eyes widen as she realizes what she had said, and biting down on her lip anxiously, she
hurries to add, “I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t mean to assume, I just thought- I just thought that
yesterday wouldn’t be just a one-time thing.”

Before her heart can sink any further with her mind now overthinking and worrying about
everything, Quinn is assuring her, “Rachel, you’re definitely more than my best friend.” At the
sincere and almost ‘duh’ tone that the blonde says it with, Rachel feels her stomach do a little toss
at the words. “Yesterday was one of the best nights of my life. I- I don’t want it to be a one-time
thing at all. I mean, if- if you don’t want it to either.”

“Trust me, I don’t want it to,” Rachel rushes to say, and she blushes at how willing her voice is.
“Our date was wonderful Quinn, I don’t think I can stress that enough.” Hesitating for a second,
she continues, “You…You were so amazing last night, planning out something so well thought-out
and sweet, and I- I really want to show you how much it meant to me by doing something in
return.”

A plan starts formulating in her mind, and a slow beam stretches on her face as she hears Quinn say
that she doesn’t have to do anything in return. “Fabray, I’m doing something for you no matter
what, stop trying to prolong the inevitable,” she cuts her off, mind already reeling with her
schemes.

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Quinn’s wry voice drawls. “I’m just waiting for a cat calendar or two.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whines, pouting. “Stop being mean.”

“You still like me anyway,” Quinn points out, clearly pleased.

“Well of course I do, you’re you,” Rachel smiles a little bashful grin. “Now, before you leave me to
my machinations, tell me a line of poetry or ten.”

“So needy Berry,” Quinn laughs.

“And yet you still like me anyway,” Rachel counters, repeating the blonde’s earlier words, and the
giddy feeling that erupts in her chest is nothing short of an adrenaline high, breathing life into her.
Quinn Fabray likes her, and she had went on an absolutely perfect date with said girl yesterday, and
even after so many hours of processing, she still wants to let out a high-pitched squeal at the
thought.

“I do,” Quinn hums, her tone of voice telling her that the blonde is smiling brightly, and that just
makes Rachel’s heart skip even faster, at the fact that she knows Quinn so well that she can
actually tell if the girl is smiling or not through her voice. “I like you very much indeed.”

“But you still didn’t sleep over and cuddle with me last night,” she pouts.

A growl emits from Quinn, low and dark, and Rachel feels her lower stomach start to churn.
“Because I probably would’ve defiled you if I didn’t leave.”

Fuck, she thinks, biting down on her lip hard to keep her whimper in, and she swallows. A few
simple words from Quinn can already get her going, entire body shaking with an urgent and primal
need, and really, it should probably scare her that her body reacts to Quinn this strongly.

It did actually, in the beginning, when she was still afraid of getting herself caught up in another
storm that she couldn’t weather. But now, she’s made it to the eye of the storm, and it’s a rush that
she wants to feel for the rest of her life.

“Sorry,” Quinn quickly apologizes, mistaking Rachel’s silence for discomfort and sounding like
she’s blushing on the other side of the line. “I just- You’re-” A strangled and choked sound makes
its way out of the back of Quinn’s throat, and Rachel squeezes her thighs together even closer.
“You’re just so irresistible, and I can’t- I couldn’t pull away from your orbit even if I tried Rae.”

The last part is said with a small laugh, and Rachel’s breath catches. “You- You find me
irresistible?”

Quinn lets out a small breath, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “You’re a star Rachel, and I’m
just one of the many moons that got drawn into your orbit.”

Rachel’s next words are soft in its confession. “But you’re the only one I shine on.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how it works Rae,” Quinn says, and this time, she succeeds even less in
masking her insecurities.

“Well then, think of it this way,” Rachel swallows, throat suddenly feeling dry. Still, she’s urged
on by a need to assure Quinn that really, Rachel’s the lucky one, and she closes her eyes, resting
her head back on her pillow. “Stars are lonely. Sure, they have a strong gravitational pull, but
sometimes…it’s just too strong, and the asteroids that get lured in can’t take it anymore. They
either crash into the star and destroy it, or they burst into little jagged fragments that form a ring
around the star. Sure, the ring will shield the star from further damage for a while, but eventually,
the fragments will crash onto the star all the same.”

It’s clear she’s referencing Finn and her strong personality chasing him away, and thoughts of Jesse
and his equally as strong personality hit her, making the gulp in her throat even more pronounced
as she continues, the original purpose of her speech seemingly forgotten. “Other times, the moons
have their own gravitational pulls that overwhelm the star’s, and they leave the orbit, destabilizing
the star, and both ways…it hurts.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath heard from Quinn’s end, and Rachel bites her lip, knowing that the
blonde definitely knows what she’s talking about. “No- Rachel-” Quinn sounds out, as if she’s
grasping for words to say.

“But that’s because their own gravitational pulls are either too strong or too weak,” she finally
says, quiet, and Rachel can tell that this is tying into the blonde’s own fears as well, as her voice is
flickering, like it always does when she’s trying to detach herself. “You’re a shining star, and it’s
not on you that they can’t keep up and hold their ground, or that they deem themselves too
important and leave. Stars deserve moons that balance them out, that revolve around them and give
them the attention and protection they deserve, because…”

Quinn goes silent here, clearly hesitating to decide if she should continue to not, and Rachel’s grip
tightens on her phone. “Because what?” she asks, in a soft whisper as she holds her breath, chest
tight.

The blonde on the other side of the phone exhales, her next words a resigned sigh. “Because
asteroids don’t shine on their own. Without their stars to shine on them, they’re…simply useless.
Barren and dark.”

“They’re not useless Quinn,” Rachel immediately counters, hating the self-deprecating tone that
Quinn’s using, and the inherent urge to assure the blonde kicks back in with a fervour. “Don’t you
remember what I said about moons that leave? They destabilize the star, because moons help
moderate the star’s axis and cause tides. Without them, the star’s climate would change drastically,
and the star would become colder and darker.”

Quinn still doesn’t seem to feel better, and Rachel tries to lighten up the mood with as she jokes,
“And I thought you knew that a few moons have atmospheres and hidden oceans, so not barren
after all, huh miss 4.0 GPA? You’ve been slacking off.”

A reply doesn’t come through the phone for a long while, with the silence becoming more and
more stifling with each beat that passes, and Rachel’s almost afraid that Quinn’s hung up on her for
a moment.

“You’re the one who needs tutoring Berry, not me,” Quinn retorts finally, the teasing tone only a
bit forced. “Plus, I was just thinking that this metaphor was stupid. I mean, they’re going to be
consumed by a black hole or red giant eventually anyway.”

“But at least they’ll go together, and the time they’ll have spent together by then will have been
marvelous,” Rachel breathes out, chest feeling that little bit lighter now.

Quinn lets out a soft laugh. “My my Rachel Berry, is that a masochist tone I detect in there?” she
drawls, voice finally rid of that sad note it previously had. “Never took you for one, but it’s nice to
know that you like a little pain to go along with your pleasure. I’ll definitely keep that in mind, at
least.”

The obvious innuendo makes Rachel blush, and she tries to keep herself straight-headed in the
midst of all the images of Quinn utterly dominating her flooding her brain now.

Pfffttt, you were never straight at all.

Hush!

Yeah, yeah, I’ll go back to enjoying those fantasies of Quinn sp-

Ohmygod Bi-rry, stop!

Ugh, it’s our own thoughts and brain! God knows, we know, the fake audience in our head know,
and…maybe Quinn knows, and that’s it, what’s stopping us from doing it dammit?

…Wait, Quinn knows?

Literally all we do all day is stare at her like we want to eat her, how would she not?

What? But- But-

Uh huh, you want to go dig yourself a hole and die in, like you always do. Honestly I thought we
were over this oblivious phase, but I guess I’ll have to run you through this a couple hundred more
times before it gets through. God, and I thought Finn was bad, sheesh. Quinn finds us hot, aight,
and I’m pretty sure she’ll find our fantasies even hotter, so like, what’s the harm?

I refuse- I refuse to objectify her, okay? So- So stop making things up!

Oh, for fuck’s sake- Rachel, sweetie, try going up to her and whispering in her ear that office
dream we had a couple days ago. I bet she’ll growl and ravish us good, I’m already having mini-
orgasms thinking about it!

What- Bi-rry- Oh my- I can’t-

Yeah, imagining Quinn in a power suit is so hot, I’d be her secretary anytime, if you catch my drift.

Rachel, go back and actually listen to what Quinn is spouting.

Oh, right!

“Uh, Rae?” Quinn’s voice rings out, amused and fond. “Earth to Rachel?”

“Quinn!” she squeaks, voice cracking in its pitch, before she sheepishly repeats, toned down in its
volume, “Quinn, I’m here, yes.”

“Mm, that’s good, yes,” the blonde teases, and Rachel flushes even more.

“You’re being mean again,” she whines.

“You’re pouting right now, aren’t you?”

Instantly retracting her jutted out lip, she purses her lips together. “…No?”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “Oh, you’re just so precious, Rachel Berry.”

“…That’s a good thing, right?” She doesn’t even bother to mask the hopefulness in her tone.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing.” Quinn trails off here, like she’s thinking. “…Because our
gravitational pulls fit, you know? They’re perfectly balanced.”

“As all things should be?”

There’s a beat, and then an awed, “Did you just make a nerd reference?”

“Quinn,” Rachel complains, and the blonde laughs again.

“Oh you’re growing up!” she exclaims. “Next thing I know you’ll be storming Area 51 with all the
Karens and Naruto runners.”

Rachel makes a little disgruntled sound from the back of her throat, but she’s smiling unabashedly.
“Well, I learned from the best,” she hums, before her voice turns soft. “But…we do fit, don’t we?”

“We do. I’d revolve around you for forever if I could,” Quinn admits. “If…If you’d let me, of
course.”

“Trust me Quinn, you’ll be trapped in my orbit forever if I have anything to do about it.”

“Wow, obsessed much?” Quinn teases good-naturedly. “I know you’d like a piece of this ass, but I
never thought that you’d be a potential serial killer. Should I be alarmed?”

“Oh definitely,” she snorts in reply. “Would a golden star as my calling card be too obvious?”

“Huh, now I’m really interested,” Quinn laughs. “Would I find myself dead and strung up one
day?”

“Of course not,” Rachel waves away. “All of my art would be for you anyway.”

There’s a beat, and then, “…That might just be one of the most simultaneously disturbing and yet
cheesy things I’ve ever heard.”
“You don’t see me making fun of your poetry,” Rachel huffs, and it’s funny, how she seems to miss
Quinn so much already. They’ve been talking on the phone for almost half an hour, but her body
aches for Quinn to be next to her, to able to be in some form of physical contact.

There’s something about that that makes her heartbeat quicken, but then Quinn is retorting, “Yeah,
but that’s because you love my poetry.”

“Poetry that is possible because of your muse, Quinn,” Rachel reminds, shoving those thoughts
from before to the back of her mind for now. “Wouldn’t want to anger her now, would we?”

“Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want to anger Santana,” Quinn agrees, trying to stifle her laughter when
an indignant sound makes its way out of Rachel’s throat. “Mm, her bitchy remarks fuel my words
so much you know.”

Rachel doesn’t reply at that, a sudden insecurity creeping up at her everywhere, and then Quinn is
sighing. “…You still don’t believe that you’re the only one I want?”

The blonde’s guilt is clear even though Rachel can’t see her, and she mumbles, “I’m sorry…”

“What? No- I- Rachel, never apologize for that, okay? I just- I-” Quinn’s tortured voice makes
Rachel’s heart pang, but then she’s singing, “When I hear you sing, it gets hard to breathe, can't
help but think every song’s about me, and every line, every word that I write, you are the muse in
the back of my mind.”

Rachel feels her chest fill with warmth, and then she’s reminded of her earlier idea, making a
beaming smile appear onto her face as she absently notes, “You are aware that Why is a sad song
right?”

“Eh, Shawn’s making out with Camila all the damn time now anyway, I’d say that he got the girl in
the end.”

“Just like you did,” Rachel points out, her happy grin turning bashful.

“And I’ll forever be grateful for that,” Quinn says, in a tone that’s almost soft in its confession.

Right then, the urge to claim Quinn as her girlfriend becomes all the stronger, and mind expanding
upon her plans quickly, Rachel asks, “You’re free for the rest of the day right?”

“Let me guess, you want more cuddles?”

“Something like that.”

Rachel can practically imagine Quinn arching a (very sexy) eyebrow. “You’re planning
something.”

“Something like that.”

“Rachel,” Quinn growls, impatient for details.

“Call this payback for all the times you’ve made me wait for things,” she chuckles. “It’ll be good.
Promise.”

“If you actually get me a cat calendar I won’t be amused,” Quinn sighs. “…But I’ll put it up on my
locker if it makes you happy anyway.”

Her heart warms at that, but then the reality of what’s going to happen when school resumes
tomorrow hits her, and she asks, “Quinn…When- When we go back to school tomorrow, what’s
going to happen?”

There’s a silence for a beat, and then Quinn’s letting out a breath. “Rachel, I’m not- I’m not going
to try to hide us, if there does turn out to be a us, since I know that we haven’t really- really made
things…you know,” Quinn finally says, after a moment. “I know my track record isn’t great, but-
but I’m not that kind of person anymore Rae, I’m not.”

“…But you need more time,” Rachel finishes for her.

“I- I’m sorry,” Quinn apologizes, gut-wrenching in its tone. “I just need- Just give me a few weeks,
please.”

Quinn’s voice tugs at Rachel’s heartstrings, and she sighs, “Quinn, you don’t have to apologize. It
wouldn’t be fair to give you an ultimatum, especially when we haven’t- haven’t made things
official. A few weeks for me to process things wouldn’t hurt either, and plus, it’s not like we can’t
be affectionate at school.”

“Guess that’s one good thing to come out of all our dating-but-not-really from before,” Quinn tries
to make light of things, and Rachel hums.

“That’s true, yes.” A beat passes, and then she’s continuing, “So…keep your schedule open today,
and don’t go hanging out with any potential girlfriends?”

“You’re shoo-in for girlfriend, so wouldn’t that make you ineligible to come over later today and
do whatever it is that you’re planning?”

“Potential girlfriends that might steal you away from me,” Rachel amends, heart pounding. “And,
shoo-in, huh?”

“If she so wishes,” Quinn hums, voiced laced with a giddiness that Rachel feels reverberate
throughout her body. “Now, go plan whatever crazy plan you’re scheming. It’s 7am in the
morning, I want to go back to sleep.”

“Well I’m not the one who told you to wake up so early.”

Quinn snorts, “Yeah right. Your insistence to wake up at 6am even on Saturdays during our
sleepovers has started to rub off of me. Even Sylvester gives us afternoon practices on the
weekends usually.”

“That was just the first few times!” Rachel defends, pouting even though she knows Quinn can’t
see it. “And you’ve drilled it into me that I wake up at least after 9am now on Saturdays anyway.”

It’s that reminder of their sleepovers and their actual adapted schedule that has Rachel beaming
once more, and she bites down on her lip to keep in her excitement. “But yeah, I have to go now,”
she says, already missing Quinn’s company. “…I don’t want to hang up though.”

“I don’t want to either,” Quinn freely admits, and Rachel lets out a laugh, making the blonde voice
out, “We’re going to be one of those couples, aren’t we?”

“Probably,” she agrees, chest filled with giddiness at the word couple. “But is there really anything
wrong with that?”

“Not at all,” the blonde on the opposite end of the line replies, and the sheer emotion Rachel hears
in Quinn’s voice makes her heart pang with longing once more, to have the girl actually be next to
her.

Physical touch is one of her love languages, and the fact that she can’t reach out and touch Quinn
or something has her chest clenching, aching with an urge to be able to do so. It’s why when she
speaks, she can’t quite mask her restlessness. “Because we fit.”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and Quinn tries to joke, “More like because our
gravitational pulls are too stubborn and so we’re locked for life, but yeah, that works too.”

“We’re just stubborn enough, then.” Rachel shrugs.

“We are,” Quinn hums, before, “God, is it weird that I miss you even on the phone?”

“Quinn, I’m quite sure that if you know the extent of which I’m longing for your physical presence
right now, you would run away screaming,” Rachel uses her ‘for-your-information’ tone to inform,
hoping to mask her tumorous feelings from the observant blonde. “So, not so weird after all?”

“Which translates to ‘we’re both hopeless sappy idiots’, gotcha,” Quinn translates dryly, then
letting out a loose chuckle. “…Yeah, we’re going to be one of those couples.”

Rachel’s mood certainly doesn’t lift with that, and she stays silent for a couple seconds, pressing
her lips together. Quinn notices that something’s wrong, and in a soft voice, says, “Rachel, I
wouldn’t have it any other way, you know that right?”

Instead of directly replying, Rachel sighs, “Yeah, I wouldn’t have it any other way either.” She
huffs out a breath, before laughing humorlessly. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess, I just- I miss you so
much right now, and I- I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

“Rae, you’re talking to the queen of being a mess, you’re completely fine. And…I don’t really
know what to do with myself either,” Quinn admits in return. “I thought that I had it all figured out
during the Summer, but…now that I’m actually experiencing this, it all feels so surreal, and I don’t
really know what I’m trying to say here, but my point is, maybe we could figure this all out…
together?”

Swallowing, Rachel exhales, her chest feeling that little bit lighter. “Yeah,” she breathes out.
“Together. That sounds nice.”

“It is,” Quinn agrees. “I think we’ve both been alone for too long.”

“But we have each other now,” Rachel says, a breathless laugh escaping her lips, and the certainty
that she’s able to speak those words surprises even herself.

“And I’ll never let you go,” Quinn vows, a solemn oath, and it makes Rachel’s chest expand with
warmth, airy and lighting up her mood.

“Even if you let go, I’d probably still chase after you like a loss puppy like I did with Finn,” she
sniggers. “You’re in this for life Fabray.”

“Ew, don’t remind me of that.” Quinn makes a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, and
Rachel can just picture the blonde scrunching up her nose cutely, in a clarity that tells her that she
probably spends too much time fixating on the girl’s face. “…Though, I have to admit that that
imagery is insanely cute.”

She feels her heart quicken at that – Quinn Fabray finds her cute! – and teases instead, “Of what?
Me chasing Finn around?”
“Rachel,” Quinn growls, and she has to restrain herself from clenching her thighs together.

“Yes?” she asks, making sure to put on her innocent voice.

“Stop talking about Finn Hudson,” the blonde grunts, and Rachel’s pretty sure she detects a hint of
a pout in her tone. “You’re mine now, and I’m never letting that jolly-green-giant and his grubby
oversized paws near you again.”

“Well, that’s a little mean,” she giggles, trying to stave off the wave of heat that rolls through her at
Quinn’s possessiveness.

The blonde grunts, “Did I ever claim to be otherwise?”

“You’re like the lion Quinn,” Rachel shrugs, grin wide.

“Huh, so that means everything the light touches is mine right?” Quinn says, and Rachel can just
hear the Cheerio’s smirk. “Including you.”

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” The words come out of her before she can even realize
it, and she blushes.

“So, forever, then,” Quinn chuckles. “I’m keeping you all for myself forever Berry, no take-
backs.”

Rachel snorts, “Like I’d ever want to.” She takes a few seconds to soak up the silence, comforted
with the knowledge that even though Quinn isn’t there physically, she’s still there on the other side
of the phone, and she sighs regrettably, not wanting their time to end just yet. “Now, I really got to
go freshen up and plan out my big romantic gesture.”

“…Can’t we just stay on the phone forever?” Quinn says, in a bit of a whine. “I wanna keep talking
to you.”

“Well, unless you want to join me in the shower-” Her mouth gapes open as she realizes what she
had said, cheeks burning up. “…Fuck.”

Quinn laughs outright. “I’d be happy to do both those things miss Berry, but I’m pretty sure
chivalry isn’t dead yet,” she drawls, clearly amused, and Rachel feels her face flare up even more.
“Now go shower Rae. I miss you already.”

“I miss you already too,” Rachel sighs out, but it’s with the thought that she’s actually doing this,
actually attempting to pursue a relationship with Quinn, that fills her heart of anticipation and
giddiness once more. “I feel like I need to hang up first, or we’ll never get off the phone.”

“That is a very probable situation.”

“But I don’t wanna hang up first,” she whines, pouting.

“Well, guess my voice is going to be joining you in the shower then,” Quinn says, a bit of a
flippant yet suggestive tone to her voice, and it’s clear that she’s suppressing a laugh.

When Rachel finds that she actually wouldn’t mind that at all (in fact, she actually wants the
blonde to be with her in the shower physically), she flushes even more and mumbles, “I’m hanging
up now, see you in a bit.”

Quinn evidently knows where her mind just went, and Rachel can practically hear her smirk as she
purrs, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, I’ll see you later baby.”

It’s when Rachel finally presses down at the end call button that it occurs to her. Baby.

…Holy mother of Barbra, Quinn Fabray called her baby!

I feel you hyperventilating from here.

Well, can you blame me? Quinn called us baby, I think I’m about to pass out!

…You make a good point. Ugh, just imagine her moaning that out as we-

Bi-rry!

Whaaat? It happens all the time in our fantasies anyway!

But now that we’ve actually heard her call us that, it seems so much more real, and- Oh my god!

…What now?

What if- What if she didn’t mean to call us that? What if she slipped up and was just trying to get
off the phone faster? Oh no, I don’t think I can continue my life without hearing her call us that at
least four-hundred and twenty four more times, and then some more!

Oh my- Berry, are you actually thinking that? Bitch, we’re finally getting our happy ending, stop
overthinking and enjoy it, yeah?

But- But-

No buts. Well, unless it’s Quinn’s butt. Then by all means. So round and full, I can’t wait till the
day we’ll finally get to-

Bi-rry, I thought I told you to stop doing that!

Pffttt, like hell am I gonna listen. Fantasizing about Quinn is so- ahhh, that feels nice…But then
again, the real thing would be much better, so…get moving Berry, we have work to do!

But- But what if she doesn’t like our plan, and-

Ugh, have you literally forgotten who we are? We’re Rachel Berry, and if it’s the only thing about
us, it’s that we’re ridiculously tenacious in our pursuing of what we want.

And…what we want is for Quinn to be our girlfriend.

Correct.

…And also, I just really, really want Quinn to call us baby again.

…Eh, also correct, I’ll give you that at least.

Okay. I’m Rachel Berry. I get what I want. And what I want is Quinn Fabray as my girlfriend, so
I’m going to get her.

Atta girl.

“Oh my god there’s totally not enough time for me to put together a cohesive soundtrack!”
Bi-rry groans in the back of her mind.

X-X-X-X-X

Taking in a breath, she grips the strap of her bag tighter against her shoulder, and she tries her best
to steady her breathing.

The weight of the journals Rachel had finally finished reading a few nights ago almost seems
comforting against her back, like she has Quinn’s words to draw her strength from, and she feels
her heart tighten at the memory of reading the heart-wrenching books.

Getting through one without crying for the blonde was already hard enough, reading about how
terrible things were for her even before high school started, but in those journals, she had also read
about Quinn’s incredible willpower, and it’s in that that she hopes she can lend from.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she lets down the stereo player she’s holding in her other
hand to the ground. Faced with the door to a now very familiar house, she rings the doorbell with
an almost shaky hand, scolding her anxiously beating heart.

Rachel Berry does not get nervous before she’s about to perform, because she’s going to own it
every single goddamn time, and she knows it.

After Quinn had that panic attack a while back, Judy had asked if it was alright to add Rachel’s
fingerprint to the front door, along with giving her the keycode, just in case if Quinn was in trouble
and Judy couldn’t be there in time.

Rachel had agreed with a blush on her face of course, but she had sworn that she would never use it
unless it was an emergency, to Quinn’s eye-roll. ‘Rach, trust me, this is more about my not
wanting to get up and open the front door than Mom pawning me off of you, you don’t have to
take this this seriously.’

A small part of her wants to just go in and surprise Quinn, (and maybe find her in a towel right
after showering, Bi-rry adds,) but she can’t stomp down that reminder of her anxiety, the part
that’s more worried about Quinn not liking this than her singing.

But before she can dwell on it any further, she hears the door unlock, and she exhales, turning on
her stereo player that was already set beforehand to play in five seconds. Show time.

The moment Quinn opens the door with a curious and rather eager face, Rachel feels her heart skip
at seeing the blonde once more, the barely fifteen hours that had passed since she last saw her
already feeling like too long, but even with her heart almost seeming to skip out of her chest, she
forces herself to stay calm.

The instrumental of her mashup kicks in, and she readies herself to sing.

Music is the one constant in her life, and she’ll be damned if she messes this one up.

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow
Quinn stands still in place, her face frozen, and Rachel feels those insecurities pop up even more,
but she pushes that all away for the time being, content to pour her heart out and let all her pent up
emotions into her song.

So then I took my turn

Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow

Finally, Quinn seems to snap out of her trance, her previously blank face morphing into a dopey
smile, and along with the relief that Rachel feels bubble up in her chest, she feels her own lips
stretch into a beam as she continues to serenade her blonde.

If you can hold the stars in place

You can hold my heart the same
Whenever I fall away
Whenever I start to break

So open your eyes and see

The way our horizons meet
And all of the lights will lead
Into the night with me

She keeps her voice purposely soft, unlike her usual belting, and she can’t even force herself to
move or do any of the choreography she had planned, too thrown into her song. This is what Quinn
makes her feel, everything at once, and it makes her head airy.

So here I am, lifting up my heart

To the one who holds the stars

Cause your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful
And you know
For you, I’d bleed myself dry
For you, I’d bleed myself dry

It really shouldn’t surprise her that she means every single word, so when she finds hazel eyes
shining back at her with something that’s just absolute adoration and more, she’s completely at
peace with that.

Before, with Finn and Jesse, it almost seemed like an infinite uphill battle, just struggling and
trying to fight against her emotions, but with Quinn, it’s nothing like that.

Quinn makes her feel all sorts of things, but they feel natural, like there’s no other option, and she
just has to be, without anything else, because being with Quinn is just freeing in all ways, a head
rush that will never stop.

As the music flows on, she feels her heart warm at the realization that this is what she wants to do
for the rest of her life. Not singing, but singing for Quinn, because Quinn is her inspiration, and
she’d do anything to be able to come home to hazel eyes and a soft genuine smile.

Enraptured in endlessly swirling pools of hazel, she almost forgets her cue to sing the outro, and
she barely opens her mouth in time to end the song.

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do

“You’re the one who holds the stars, ” she finishes softly, voice almost a whisper in its reverence,
and she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart once more, steadying her breaths.

Freaking out can come after she’s finished this.

Taking in a breath, she steels her nerves. “Quinn,” she starts, her voice almost stumbling shakily
upon the syllable. “Will you-” Throat suddenly dry, she cuts herself off as she swallows, a
paralyzing fear hitting at her at all once.

It’s then that all of the ‘what-if’s that she’s been suppressing come rushing to the forefront of her
mind, and if it’s even possible, her heart thrashes against her chest even harder, thumping loudly in
her ears.

Quinn’s staring at her with a curious and slightly concerned look, and Rachel has half a mind of
running away and never coming back, but she knows that till now, Quinn has been the one who’s
been making all the moves in this- in their relationship, and that’s what finally lifts that terrifying
haze in control of her body.

Quinn chose her, for better or for worse, and Rachel never, ever wants the blonde to feel like it’s
one sided.

So it’s with that that she finally breathes, telling herself to go with the flow once more, and she
speaks her next words with a bravery that surprises herself.

“Quinn, will you be my girlfriend?”

There’s silence for a beat, and for a second, Rachel feels her mind start to churn with all her
worries, a mocking laugh echoing in her brain.

But then Quinn is crashing into her, lips seeking her own out, and she forgets what she was
insecure about in the first place.

As Quinn’s full pink lips descend upon hers, she thinks, fuck, it’s been way too long, because it
hasn’t even been a full day since they had last kissed, but it’s already felt like an eternity to Rachel,
and she kisses Quinn back eagerly, a burning desire in her lower stomach.

“Yes,” the blonde mumbles between kisses, guiding them into the house and kicking the door shut.
“Yes I’ll be your girlfriend Rae.”

“Oh!” Rachel gasps, bag falling to the floor as Quinn pushes against her, one hand on her neck and
the other on her waist. Feeling her back slam against the door, she groans, the feeling of Quinn’s
demanding kisses simply divine. “Oh, that’s- that’s good.”

Tangling her fingers into silky golden locks – god she loves Quinn’s hair – she uses her other hand
to press against the curve of the blonde’s back, pushing their bodies together closer, and she tries to
keep up with Quinn, who’s relentlessly attacking her lips in all the best ways possible.

In the back of her mind, there’s a voice squealing ‘Holy crap Quinn Fabray agreed to be our
girlfriend!’, but Quinn’s masterful working of her lips is otherwise keeping her occupied at the
moment, and when she feels an – oh god – tongue swipe against her lower lip, she can’t stop her
hips jerking up a bit to find some contact, some friction, anything.
It seems like Quinn knows what will happen if they continue at this rate though, as she’s keeping
their lower bodies apart, so she doesn’t meet anything but heated air, but then, Rachel feels an
insistent tongue swiping across her lip once more, and she nearly lets out a little moan, the feeling
incredible.

Through the haze of being kissed by Quinn like that, she can’t really think straight, but she knows
that no matter what, she so desperately wants to feel that again, so she keeps her mouth closed,
denying Quinn’s tongue entry.

Letting out a growl, Quinn bites down on her lip, just soft enough for it not to hurt but yet just hard
enough to really make Rachel feel it. She’s incompletely unprepared for it, and she let out the moan
that she’s been holding in uncontrollably, just needing to let out all of this pent-up pressure
somehow.

She fully expects Quinn – her girlfriend – to take advantage of her parted lips, but that’s not what
happens at all, because the next thing she knows, the Cheerio is pulling away with a groan.

Rachel nearly melts into a pile of frustration on the spot, because dammit, and panting, she
whimpers, “Quinn.”

Their bodies are still pressed tight together, overheated as the air burns around them, and Quinn
groans, eyes dark and burning gold. “Rae, you can’t just make sounds like that and expect me to
hold back.”

You not holding back and ravishing me is the entire point, Rachel very nearly exclaims, the ache
between her legs only becoming more pronounced now that she’s not lost in Quinn. Instead, she
blurts out, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t, you know, do- do other…stuff.”

The fact that she can’t say the words obviously amuses Quinn, and she smirks. “What, like this?”

Rachel doesn’t have any time to react before Quinn is diving in to link their lips together again, and
she gasps, a breathy little sound that makes Quinn grunt.

This time, the blonde fully takes advantage of her parted lips, and then Rachel’s tongue is meeting
Quinn’s, and it’s simply unbelievable, making little bursts of stars explode behind her eyelids.

But then, it’s gone as abruptly as it had come, and Rachel can’t help the frustrated little mewl that
emits from the back of her throat.

“Patience, Rach,” Quinn reminds, laughing, though the dry and husky quality of it isn’t fooling
anyone, and the brunette pouts.

At the sight of her swollen lips, Quinn’s eyes darken even more, and a quick kiss is pressed to her
lips, making Rachel sigh. “Usually boys are so much more eager,” she grumbles.

“Well, that’s because boys are pigs,” Quinn chuckles, nudging her nose against Rachel’s cheek.
“And I want to give you a whirlwind romance Rae, so I repeat, chivalry isn’t dead yet,
unfortunately.”

“You know what, I don’t even care,” Rachel breathes out, lips tingling, and they stretch into a slow
but beaming smile.

“Oh yeah?” Quinn drawls, a similar grin on her face. “Why is that, miss Berry?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend,” she practically giggles the words out.

“Mm, I am,” her girlfriend agrees, nodding sagely. “And you’re my girlfriend.”

At that, Rachel can’t resist tilting her head to draw the blonde into another bruising kiss, and when
she pulls away, it’s with a happy and contented sigh. “You’re such a good kisser, baby.”

The endearment slips from her mouth before she even realizes it, and when Quinn arches a brow of
interest, Rachel hesitantly asks, “Is- Is that okay?”

Quinn blinks, and then, her girlfriend – ugh, she still can’t get over how amazingly amazing that
sounds – is giving her a languid smile as she counters, “Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Trust me, I am more than okay with it,” Rachel rushes out, breathy and eager, and she laughs. “…
I seriously want to go up to a rooftop and scream that Quinn Fabray is my girlfriend now, wow.”

“Pfft, Rachel Berry is my girlfriend now, I think I have more to boast about,” Quinn retorts, with a
giddiness that Rachel feels bubbling up inside her own chest in echo as well.

“Cuddle on the couch and watch movies with me?” she asks, and the hopeful tilt to her voice
makes Quinn sport a puzzled look.

“That’s what we always do.”

“But you’re my girlfriend now,” Rachel grins, simply addicted to the rush that the words give her,
and she thinks that she’ll never tire of it. “And that makes everything one-hundred percent better.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Quinn muses with a dopey curl of her lips, before, “…Crap, we left the
stereo player outside.”

Rachel simply giggles and reaches up to kiss Quinn again. The angle is perfect, where she only has
to tilt her head up slightly to have bliss occur, and that’s just one more reason why she feels like
her chest can’t expand any further with warmth and affection.

Quinn Fabray is her girlfriend now, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

X-X-X-X-X

Letting out a content purr as she curls herself more into Quinn’s form, she feels her eyes getting
droopy, and she lets out a little yawn.

The faded-out chatter of the romcom they’re mindlessly watching lures her to sleep, and she
snuggles even closer; honestly, Quinn was way too comfortable to cuddle with for her own good.

“Someone’s getting sleepy,” her girlfriend – girlfriend! – teases, hand combing through Rachel’s
locks soothingly.

“Too comfy,” she sighs out. “’n ’re warm.”

“I’m hot, I’m aware,” Quinn says knowingly, chuckling, and Rachel agrees profusely, but
thankfully, she doesn’t blurt it out like she always does with her embarrassing thoughts, simply just
humming her sleepy reply.

“By the way, I brought back your journals,” she notes, nodding her head towards her bag where it
always is.

From behind her, she feels Quinn tense momentarily, and she blinks away the bleary haze of sleep,
knowing just how vulnerable the blonde had made herself by giving up those journals.

Rachel won’t ever have a day go by without reminding the blonde how much she appreciates her,
and she turns so that she’s facing the Cheerio, eyes bright.

“Quinn, I’ll never forgive Russell for what he did to you, and I’m so happy that you trusted me
enough to share that part of your past, I’ll never be able to express that enough,” she enunciates,
forcing Quinn to meet her eyes.

Seeing the conflicting emotions raging in hazels, she pushes on, overcome with an urge to make
sure Quinn understands her.

“But what matters is that you’re better now,” she expresses, “That you’re stronger because of those
experiences, and I’m so, so proud of you Quinn, for finally being able to grow into yourself and let
that old part of you go. Your past is what makes you you, and I will forever be grateful that you let
me into your life. Please remember that.”

Quinn doesn’t speak for a few seconds, famed Fabray mask in place, but finally, she says, “…I- I
want to give you the rest of the journals later, if you- if you want them. I’m not- I’m not proud of
some of them, but…a lot of them are about you, Rae, because…”

The blonde trails off here, looking hesitant, and Rachel tries her best to express her encouragement
through her gaze, summoning up all the affection and adoration that she feels and channeling that.

It takes a second, but it works, and Quinn bites down on her lip gently. “Remember about the thing
I said about how I’ve liked you since freshman year? I think…I think you can figure the rest out.”

It all clicks into place in Rachel’s mind, confirming her earlier suspicions, and her breath catches.
There’s a sharp pang in her heart, and she swallows, suddenly struck with a quick bout of
insecurity. “I-I need to hear you say it. Please.”

At the tortured expression that appears on the blonde’s face, Rachel’s suddenly afraid that she’s
asked for too much, that she’s pushed too far, as she’s prone to do. She wonders if she’ll blow it
like that one day, but then Quinn is nodding slightly, almost in resignation, and that line of
dangerous thought is saved for another day, stored away in the back of her mind in favor of
focusing on Quinn instead.

“All of the slushies, all of the insults designed to make me feel you were less feminine…They
were all because I was afraid of liking a girl,” her girlfriend admits, a croaky whisper, and Rachel
bundles closer to her, hoping to at least provide some comfort.

Rachel can tell that that’s all Quinn can do for now, and she’s completely fine with that. Grateful,
actually. She tries to work her voice to form some supportive words, but it’s like her vocal cords
are seemingly stiff, with her heart oddly moved and hurting at the same time. It’s a strange set of
emotions, but she pushes that away for now. “Thank…Thank you for telling me that.”

Quinn simply raises a brow at her, and she lets out a breath, just needing to convey how proud she
is of the Cheerio, of how far she’s come in finding herself.

“And that just enforces my earlier point Quinn,” she breathes out, reaching out a hand to enwrap a
smooth pale one, their fingers tangling together. “You’ve let that old part of yourself go, and now
you’re starting your future. Whether I’m there or not, that’s entirely up to you, but I know that no
 matter what you choose, you’ll be amazing, because you’re finally accepting yourself. You can be
whoever you want, because you’re Quinn Fabray, and we’re all proud of you, which already means
everything.”

Quinn’s posture is still rigid by the time Rachel finishes, and she sees the blonde tightly swallow.
There’s silence for a few moments, the quiet chatter of the movie in the background almost
haunting, and then, Quinn is puffing out a breath.

“…You don’t give yourself enough credit Rae.”

Rachel doesn’t understand, furrowing her brow, and Quinn sighs. “I may be able to craft words
using my mind, but you do it with your heart, Rachel, and…and that’s the most beautiful thing of
them all.”

She doesn’t have words, simply stunned and caught.

She’s absolutely taken with the absolutely perfectly imperfect person that Quinn Fabray is, Quinn
Fabray her girlfriend, and she stares up to delicate features in awe, because how can someone
manage words so amazingly and still say that others do it better?

Her mouth simply opens and closes with no sound coming out, but Quinn evidently doesn’t seem
to mind though.

It’s obvious that she’s found another use for her mouth, because then, the blonde is leaning down
to connect their lips together, and as their lips meet, sparks of magic erupting from her lips to her
everywhere, Rachel thinks that no, that really isn’t the most beautiful thing of them all.

This, this right here? This is.

Chapter End Notes

Eternal hugs to Vicky and Azbiel for getting me through this chapter, life tm got in the
way the past week and everything after the phone call was written today in a hurry lol,
like the last 2k. I even considered just giving you guys the phone call, but Kuro
cheered (read: forced) me through it, so thank him for the longer chapter :p
We did drabble night over at the r/fanfiction discord yesterday though, and it was
really fun, since I’ve never tried making things exactly 100 words before. (they're on
my tumblr pls come and bug me I need faberry friends)
P.S. Please tell me how awesome that metaphor about stars and moons were, thank.
 VI. Part II
Chapter Summary

The one where they make out, have some convos at school, and make out some more

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

When Rachel wakes from yet another sex dream, she groans, hand mindlessly moving to shut off
her alarm clock.

Pushing away her covers with a ferocity that probably is fueled from sexual frustration, she
practically stomps her way to the bathroom, determined to ignore the needy ache between her legs.

Honestly, when are you gonna let us-

No, I’m not doing this today dammit!

Ooh, someone’s feisty today. The UST is definitely getting to ya, I can feel it.

You- Oh my- I can’t- Shut up, okay?

Hmm, yeah I’m not sure how much I like this mood you’re sporting today.

Oh fuck off Bi-rry!

Yeah, that stick is even more up your ass than usual…Oh, I have an idea! Remind me who’s our
girlfriend now?

At that thought, Rachel ceases her furious face-scrubbing routine immediately, and a slow beam
stretches onto her face as she’s reminded of that.

“Quinn Fabray’s my girlfriend,” she quietly giggle-sings to herself, watching her body do a little
dance in the mirror.

Ugh that sounds good!

I know, right? But- I’m still worried about what’s going to happen today at school.

Yeah, me too. Like how the hell are we supposed to keep from letting Quinn fuck us against the
lockers, it’s going to be impossible!

…That wasn’t what I meant, but after a bit of thinking, that does seem like a valid concern, yes.

Oh yeah there’s that entire ‘Will she pull away’ thing, but pfft who cares about that? What I want
to know, is why whatever higher being up there would let us taste Quinn Fabray’s lips but then
make us not be able to kiss them every second of the day, it’s simply sadistic!

I’m glad we’re in agreement, we really ought to write a strongly-worded letter to them, maybe
burning it would get it through?
Or, maybe…we could pull Quinn into an empty classroom during study hall and make out there.

What a wonderful idea, we’re geniuses, I approve of this plan immensely!

Ah I love how you’re so cooperative now that we’re Quinn’s girlfriend – it stills sounds like the
best thing ever, god! That reminds me, we need to look spanking hot today Berry, I want Quinn to
drool.

You- You really think we can do that?

Ha, have you seen how she looks at us? Just wear the shoulderless black dress, fuck-me heels, and
her Cheerio jacket, you know how much she adores us in her clothes. Speaking of which, when is
Operation Steal Quinn’s Sweatshirt a go, I can’t believe we still haven’t done that yet!

Oh we come up with the best ideas, maybe you’re not so bad after all Bi-rry! Maybe that means
we won’t have to come up with excuses as to why we forgot to bring clothes to our sleepovers
anymore.

Please, Quinn totally knows that we’re doing it on purpose, with how obvious we are.

Look, it’s not my fault that she smells so good!

Yeah yeah, go clean up now, we have work to do.

Mm, we’re gonna get Quinn so hot for us she’ll just have to pull us away and ravish us, I can’t
wait!

X-X-X-X-X

Walking down the stairs to grab breakfast, as soon as she walks into the kitchen with a pep to her
step, Hiram is instantly spinning around with his brow raises, scanning over her attire.

Leaning forward slightly, he furrows his brow. “Excuse me, what is, uh, what is-” He makes a wild
gesture towards her clothes. “What is all that?”

Rachel flushes, knowing that even with her new wardrobe curtesy of the Unholy Trinity, she
usually still stuck with her cardigans and blouses. Trying to think her way out of this no-doubt
going to be embarrassing situation, she splutters out, “This is- I mean- It’s nothing, it’s just for- for
a Glee club activity!” Nodding to herself, she continues on self-assuredly, “Yes, Mr. Schue is
trying to uh- to make us go out of our comfort zone, and- and of course, I decided to-”

“Yeah yeah, you want to look good for your girlfriend, got it,” Hiram translates, going back to
munching on his burrito, before his face lights up with an afterthought as he adds, “I mean, I would
be too, Quinn is absolutely gorgeous, oh what I wouldn’t do to have her complexion!”

Rachel simply just stammers out more incoherencies, though he pays that little mind. “Just
remember to have safe sex, will you? I wouldn’t want to have Leroy dig out the pamphlets on
lesbian sex again.”

His face scrunches up at that, and Rachel flushes instantly, red taking over her face. “Daddy!” she
astonishes. “I wasn’t- I’m not about to go and- and have sex with Quinn this early in our
relationship, what are you thinking? Honestly I should go and-”

“Uh huh, yeah, that’s great,” Hiram waves away, not impressed. “But anyway, I need your
opinions on dresses – oh now, don’t look at me like that, I haven’t even told you what kind! Oh
fine, I’ll save the wedding dress choices for later.”

It’s then when he starts talking about arranging more dinners with Quinn that Leroy comes in the
kitchen, and now beet red, Rachel sighs out in relief. Finally, she’s saved!

“Dad,” she whines. “Daddy is bullying me again!”

Leroy raises a brow at her, picking up his coffee mug, and nonchalant as ever, he asks, “Ah, is he
trying to enforce upon you the baby names we have in mind? Believe me, I’ve tried to convince
him to ask Quinn’s mom about this first, but you know him, he can’t be stopped. I mean, you have
to get your stubbornness somewhere.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Hiram pipes in, but by then, Rachel’s already let out a frustrated wail and
snatched her breakfast away from the counter to eat elsewhere.

“Hey, hey, no need to be so touchy!” Leroy’s voice follows her out of the kitchen. “At least tell me
if Hiram’s given you the dental dams yet!”

X-X-X-X-X

As soon as Rachel rips open the door, she’s crashing into Quinn’s arms, and the blonde has to
reach out to steady herself.

“Whoa there Rae,” Quinn laughs softly into her hair. “Good morning to you too. What has you so
riled up on this fine morning?”

“My parents are abusing me!” the diva cries out in response, using that as an excuse to nuzzle even
closer to Quinn’s warmth. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to come save
me!”

“Oh? How unfortunate,” the Cheerio humors her with a chuckle, and Rachel is unable to stop her
smile, already feeling lighter in her girlfriend’s – girlfriend! – presence. “Now, tell me why are you
so desperately in need of child emergency services today?”

Pulling away slightly, Rachel stays firmly enwrapped in Quinn’s embrace, unwilling to let go of
this comfort for now. “They’ve been embarrassing me all morning,” she whines pathetically,
loving how Quinn’s hands are rubbing smooth circles at the small of her back. “They even deigned
to leave for work later than usual to mortify me more!”

“Aw, poor baby,” Quinn coos solemnly, with an undertone of what’s undoubtedly amusement in
her voice. The blonde’s lips curl in a delectable line shortly afterwards, and Rachel feels a roll of
lust wash over her at that well familiar smirk. “Is there anything I could do to make it better?”

Quinn’s playful yet seductive drawl hits all the right notes in Rachel’s body, and breathless, she
suggests, “Maybe you could, you know…kiss it better.”

“I could,” the blonde agrees, hazel eyes gleaming. “But…your fathers are currently watching us
like they’ve been depraved from reality TV for decades, so maybe later.”

Casting a sideways glance, she indeed spots her dads looking at them and giggling like schoolyard
children, and when they figure out that she knows they’re there, they quickly try to act blasé,
turning to inspect and dust at the nearest furniture.

Letting out a little disgruntled sound from her chest, she grumbles, “Don’t they have better things
to do?”

“Apparently not,” Quinn shrugs, and when Rachel tugs them out of the doorway, still keeping their
bodies knit tight together, she lets herself be guided out without complaint, only giving her famed
eyebrow arch in response.

As the door slams shut behind her, Rachel hears the faint call of “Come by soon again Quinn!” fill
her ears, and she narrows her eyes, wondering why she even lets her parents out in public in the
first place.

Diverting her attention back to her girlfriend, she sees a quirk of lips, obviously trying to stifle a
grin, and she pouts. “Just give me my good morning kiss Fabray.”

“Who said you get one?” Quinn baits, and feeling a small wave of insecurity hit her, Rachel shrinks
back a little, suddenly unsure. But then, Quinn’s raising an impatient eyebrow at her, fingers
thrumming against her back almost rhythmically. “Well? I’m waiting, Berry.”

Rachel tilts her head slightly in confusion, blinking, and Quinn sounds out, “Rachel, kiss me.”

Oh…Oh!

Well then, Rachel is very happy to oblige.

Leaning in and angling her head up, she covers Quinn’s soft pink and oh-so-tempting lips with her
own, and she can’t help but let out a little contented sound at the contact, already relishing the
feeling.

By all things considered, it’s a chaise kiss, but it still manages to set all her nerve endings aflame,
and she tilts her head just so to deepen the kiss, pressing just the slightest tad harder.

The hands now on her waist squeeze gently, and Quinn pulls away, eyes dark as she runs her
tongue over her lower lip. Rachel traces the movement with fervor, but before she can have the
chance to capture those enticing lips again, Quinn’s half-sternly reminding her, “I’m going to be
late for Cheerio’s practice.”

“But we won’t be able to kiss in school and stuff,” Rachel protests, and – oh wow, did she just
sound like as much a hormonal teenage boy as she thought she did?

“Rachel,” Quinn grits out, dark hazel eyes warning her, and the diva pulls away to cross her arms,
jutting her lip out.

It’s then that Quinn finally sees what she’s wearing, and as the blonde’s gaze rakes over her form
with appraisal and hunger, Rachel feels herself flush as well, the look on Quinn’s face undoubtedly
that of lust.

It’s weird, of how different it feels compared to when the boys at school do the same thing.

…Well, maybe not the exact same, because their eyes are different, she thinks. It’s in the way that
they shine.

When someone like Puck does it, it’s with a leering look that makes her feel like a piece of meat,
taking her in like they’re looking at her curves instead of her, like she’s nothing more than an
object for their fantasies.

When Quinn does it, along with the gleam of hunger and arousal in her beautiful hazels, there’s an
utter adoration in there, all-encompassing and like an addictive drug. It makes Rachel feel wanted
and desired, because it’s like what Quinn’s seeing is only enhancing what she’s feeling for her
inside, not just her primal urges.

It may also be to do with the fact that Quinn Fabray, the most gorgeous human being she’s ever
met, finds her attractive that sets off all the sparks in her lower stomach, but then Quinn is quickly
stepping forward to give her a breath-stealing and bruising kiss, and all Rachel’s braincells are
going right down to her aching core.

It’s a searing and electric moment in time, with all of Quinn’s curves pressing into hers in all the
right places, their bodies locked so tight Rachel doesn’t even know where hers end and Quinn’s
begin, and she’s absolutely high off the rush of kissing her girlfriend.

Because kissing Quinn is like going home, rediscovering what’s warmth all over again, and she
hopes, prays, that it’ll always be like this, a head rush that’ll never stop.

When she’s with Quinn, she’s happy.

Just when it starts to become something more heavier, something involving tongues and teeth that
she definitely doesn’t want her fathers to witness on their front porch – she’s pretty sure she can
hear their happy squeals at their window from here – she finally finds the strength to pull away,
panting warm breath against Quinn’s lips.

“What happened to Cheerio practice?” she grins, breathless.

Quinn narrows her eyes at her. “Well, that was before someone decided to wear a certain black
dress,” she murmurs, eyes almost a pure black with only a ring of gold surrounding it. “And paired
with my Cheerio jacket too. You know what you in my clothes does to me. How do you expect me
to keep my hands off of you today when you’re dressed like that?”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Rachel coyly remarks, and Quinn’s grip on her waste tightens.

“You’re-” she sounds out, rough and restrained. “You’re really planning on testing me today,
aren’t you?”

Now starting to gain confidence, Rachel throws her a flirtatious smile. “Better learn to make use of
empty classrooms quick then.”

Closing her eyes as a visible wave of something rolls through her body, Quinn lets out a small
rumbling sound from her chest, and Rachel is unable to stop the way her chest swells with pride,
because she’s the one who’s doing this, who’s rendering Quinn Fabray like this.

It’s something new, and it’s something that causes an absolute thrill to rush through her veins.

In this moment, she feels powerful, and she finds that she quite likes it.

“Cheerios. Or coach’s gonna kill me,” Quinn finally says, though it’s like she’s trying to convince
herself more than anything else.
Continuing on the high of having the Head Cheerio practically under her mercy, Rachel finds
herself darting forward to press a kiss on Quinn’s smooth jawline, lingering there. “Wouldn’t it be
the best death though?”

Her questioning voice is downright sinful, seductive and low, and she doesn’t think that she’s ever
quite heard her voice like that before, a chilling whisper that she visually sees have a lasting effect
on Quinn, fingertips flexing at her waist as a warning sign.

But alas, she really wouldn’t wish Sue Sylvester’s wrath on anyone, much less Quinn, (though,
she’s pretty sure Quinn would definitely appreciate the massage that she’d very eagerly offer
afterwards,) and so, she reluctantly pulls away, but not before planting one last kiss on the blonde’s
neck, too addicted by the feeling to contain herself.

Quinn’s skin tastes amazing, and briefly, Rachel wonders what the Cheerio would taste like in
other places, and she feels her throat dry at the thought. Her provocative streak evidently has come
to an end though, as she shucks back immediately, a burning bright flush on her face as she tries
not to pay attention to the images now flashing in her brain, the churn in her lower stomach louder
than ever.

Her hasty retreat seems to shake Quinn out of her trance, and as she watches her go with dazed
eyes, the blonde mindlessly notes, “The letterman still smells like me.”

Rachel freezes up at the words, and she tries to play it off by joking, “Well, it’s bound to
somewhat, considering the staggering amount of time I spend with you.”

…Because I totally don’t use mango and vanilla scents to wash this jacket with so that it still smells
semi-like you, since that would be totally pathetic and stalkerish and just plain weird.

(Uh huh, Bi-rry snickers in the back of her mind. But speaking of which, we totally need to restock
on those. We’re going to run out soon, and you know we’re fidgety without it- Oh wow, okay.
We’re such stalkers ha!)

Pushing that away for now – but still making a mental note to get more at the store later – Rachel
hopes that Quinn doesn’t notice her sheepish and embarrassed demeanor, and thankfully, Quinn’s
still in a bit of a haze from before, so she doesn’t ask further.

“You good to go?”

Hefting her bag tighter against her side – she’d opted for a shoulder bag today – she shoots the
blonde a small smile, taking the arm offered in with her own. “Yeah, I am,” she exhales, suddenly
overwhelmed with emotions at the thought of facing school with Quinn, who’s now her girlfriend.

But then, as Quinn sends a beam her way, with one of those genuine and happy smiles that reach
her eyes and beyond, Rachel thinks that maybe it won’t be that different after all.

It’ll be better.

“I’m really good, actually,” she says, a light feeling in her chest that’s everything all at once.
“I’m…I’m perfect.”

“Someone has gotten a big ego,” Quinn teases as she leads them to her car, stopping to open the
door for the brunette, and Rachel blushes sheepishly, just realizing the double meaning of her
words. “But…You are. Perfect, I mean. You’re…You’re just perfect.”

At the tender look Quinn gives her, Rachel can’t help but stop right where she is to look at her
girlfriend in bewilderment, one foot already planted in the car, and if anything, hazel eyes shine
with admiration and devotion even more, causing her heart to skip a few beats.

The edge of Quinn’s lips curl, with that soft edge that Rachel’s only really ever seen aimed at her,
and before she can even begin to process that, Quinn’s already leaned forward to give her a quick
kiss, almost as if she’s sealing a deal of some sort.

“Now get in the car Berry,” the cheerleader laughs, full and bright. “Or else either Sylvester or
your dad is going to kill me.”

Blinking, Rachel breaks out of her reverie, and she slides into the passenger seat with a snort. “Oh
please, Coach Sylvester would never let go of her prized Head Cheerio, and really, are you still on
that your-dad-hates-me kick?”

“Your dad has a shotgun, ready to shoot at me the moment he thinks I’m defiling his baby girl or
whatever!” Quinn defends, slamming the car door shut as she gets into the driver’s seat, and her
indignant expression makes Rachel giggle.

“Quinn,” she states, an almost-scoff in her tone. “Just look over there.”

Pointing to the windows, Quinn follows her line of sight, and the sight of her nosey parents greets
them, trying to look covert and very obviously failing.

Leroy at least has the good decency to back away sheepishly, but of course, Hiram, as shameless as
he is, just continues to meet their gazes unabashedly, and he waves with a giant smile on his face,
yelling, “Girls, if you two plan on rambunctiously propagating later, remember to use the
appropriate safety measures! Rachel, you do have those de-”

“Daddy!” Rachel astonishes, trying to stomp her foot even in the car, and Quinn winces next to her
due to the sheer volume of her voice, making her flush apologetically as Hiram finally retreats.

“I am so sorry about my parents – or well, just my daddy as a whole,” she groans, hiding her face
with her hands as Quinn starts ups the engine. “I don’t even know why I let people know I
associate with them.”

“Well, it could be worse,” Quinn offers, with a dry curl of her lips, but before Rachel can grimace
at her wording choice – Shelby and Russell are both prime examples of that – the blonde is
continuing, “You should see my mom, she practically asks to have you over every single night, it’s
almost like she wants you as her daughter instead, the little traitor.”

Taking the joke as what it is, Rachel plays along, though her heart starts to speed up at the thought
of having a proper dinner with Judy Fabray. “Honestly at this rate we should probably trade
places.” She shakes her head, faux-exasperated. “Every night my dads are always ‘Quinn this’ and
‘Quinn that’, they don’t just want you as their daughter, they practically think you theirs already!”

They laugh and bicker over who has it worse for a while, though Rachel knows that both of them
are grateful to have parents that support them, until finally the looming shadow of Mckinley High
greets them, making them pause, the sudden reality of having to face school as secret lovers hitting
them hard.

Reversing into a parking space, Quinn glances at her, unsure. “Well,” the blonde starts, for once
seeming to be at as much of a loss as Rachel. “This is it.”

“It is,” Rachel breathes out, biting down on her lip in anxiousness.
She doesn’t even know why it all seems so foreign and scary. They’re literally just going to keep
doing what they’ve always done, just with some extra things added in, so it doesn’t really add up as
to why they both seem to be so hesitant.

But maybe it’s the fact that they’ll have to hide those extra things that’s making this so hard, she
muses thoughtfully, still unwilling to let go of this moment just yet.

While it’s true that she was serious when she told Quinn a few weeks to process behind closed
doors wouldn’t hurt, it still doesn’t take away that she’s just terrified that Quinn’s going to pull
away, even though the blonde has already proven otherwise multiple times.

It’s a strange sort of conflicting motion, being giddy that Quinn Fabray’s her girlfriend while also
feeling loss at the fact that they’ll have to cover it up at school.

They’ve made it this far though, so Rachel reckons that this can’t possibly be as hard as the things
before. When put in perspective with the numerous panic and anxiety attacks that they’ve had to
nurse and witness before, this really should be a cake-walk, a nice change of pace even.

Even though that doesn’t really squash down her fears and insecurities, she’s still able to grasp
some determination – because Rachel Berry is nothing but tenacious when it comes to getting what
she wants – and it’s with that that she finds it in herself to break the silence.

“It’s…It’s not going to be that much more different than before, I guess,” she tries to introduce the
silver lining, before she cracks a small smile. “If our friends swearing up and down that we’ve
practically been dating this entire time is to be believed.”

At this, Quinn seems to regain some of her composure, and a smirk forms itself onto her lips. “I
mean, I’m still going to have to restrain myself from kissing you senseless against the lockers, so
yeah, maybe not that different after all.”

Now biting on her lip for an entirely different reason, Rachel can’t help the way her lips morph
into a bashful little grin, or how her heart seems to be beating out of her chest.

She knows that Quinn actually likes her – that much at least, she can safely and confidently say –
but hearing it, hearing it is always different.

Rachel thrives on people giving her attention. It’s something that has and always will be true, and
while she might get flak for it occasionally, it’s one of the things that she can always readily admit.

She needs attention, and that’s not a bad thing really. No matter it be applause, or simple gestures
like telling her that she’s beautiful that day, she thrives on assuring words and gestures, telling her
that she’s doing the right thing.

Perhaps, that’s why she was so determined to befriend Quinn last year.

The girl was always so closed off, but there were just certain somethings that Rachel noticed, and it
drew her closer, the brief glimpses of the real Quinn underneath telling her that it would be worth it
in the end.

And as Quinn gives her the Fabray signature smirk and eyebrow arch, playful hazel eyes gleaming,
Rachel knows that it was really worth it and more.

Because Quinn Fabray’s her girlfriend, and the person that Quinn’s trying to be now is just
amazing and wonderful in all the ways that Rachel couldn’t have imagined.
“You know…” she says, a coy look on her face. “The car park’s empty.”

Quinn catches on immediately, and a scandalous look appears on her face. “Why, miss Berry, you
can’t possibly be thinking what I think you’re implying!”

“What do you think I’m implying?”

When Quinn leans in closer, Rachel unconsciously licks her lips, and the blonde’s eyes darken at
the movement. “Why, I don’t know,” Quinn murmurs, breathy and low. “Maybe we should find
out.”

Eyes unable to resist darting down to look at full pink lips, Rachel feels that familiar rush of
arousal surge through her body, and she really just wants to close that little bit of distance and taste
Quinn’s heavenly lips again, but then of course Quinn decides to do otherwise.

Because Quinn just gives her a peck – a fucking peck! – and moves back to her own seat quickly,
opening the car door to get out of it.

And as Rachel just sits there, in disbelief and outrage, the blonde has the audacity to ask, “You
coming or not Berry?”

It’s then that she realizes that she’ll have to watch Quinn in her Cheerio uniform practice her sky
splits and run around the track with her absolutely gorgeous biceps flexing for a solid hour.

It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing, the Cheerios’ motto flashes in her brain,
almost like it’s mocking her, and she barely manages to keep in her frustrated little whimper.

Girls want sex as much as guys do dammit!

X-X-X-X-X

As soon as Quinn walks out of the showers after Cheerio practice ends, Rachel wastes no time in
grabbing the blonde, dragging her to behind the bleachers where no one can see.

“Uh, Rachel?” her girlfriend questions, though it’s clear by the undertone of her voice that she
knows exactly what Rachel is planning. “What are you-”

For once in her life, Rachel finally gets to cut Quinn off, so really, the fact that it’s by grabbing her
face and practically mauling her is just a bonus.

Letting out a small sound of surprise, Quinn’s lips are motionless for the first second, but then,
there’s a low growl, and then Quinn is taking control of the kiss.

Rachel mentally rewords that last sentence of her thought right then and there. It’s a very, very big
bonus indeed.

All the pent-up frustration of watching Quinn on the field for an hour seems to come rushing back
out, and Rachel channels all of that into their frantic kissing, prying Quinn’s lips open with her
tongue.

It’s the first time they’ve really done this, but as rocket explosions and stars burst behind her, she
finds that she doesn’t really care, simply content to explore every inch of Quinn that she’s allowed.
As their tongues engage in a battle of dominance, leading and chasing in a languid dance that is
heading nowhere and everywhere at the same time, her hands trail paths on polyester, and though
she takes care to keep them to respectful places, it’s like she can’t get enough.

Her past boyfriends were all about sloppily making out and grinding.

But with Quinn, like everything else, it’s different. It’s about exploring and discovering, and there’s
just this all-consuming need in Rachel that hungers to familiarize itself with every ridge and every
curve that makes up Quinn’s body.

She thinks that it’s only in this moment, when they’re making out under the bleachers that she
really understands John Mayer’s Your Body Is A Wonderland, but then Quinn is just doing this
thing with her tongue and teeth and hands and just everything, and well, who has time to think
when being kissed by Quinn Fabray like that?

“We’re- We’re going to be late to class.” Quinn pants out between unrelenting kisses, but it seems
like the blonde has no inclinations to stop either, her hands on Rachel’s neck and back still
unwilling to move from their (in Rachel’s opinion, very rightful) place.

Skin on fire and her entire body absolutely buzzing, Rachel pulls back for only a split second,
grunting out, “Your HBIC glare will scare them into submission.”

And now I’m hoping that your HBIC glare will eyefuck me into submission.

She feels Quinn’s lips morph into a smirk against her own, before pressing down against her once
more. “My my, someone’s picking up some bad habits, it seems like.”

Rachel throws her a throwaway smile. “And now I’m going to pick up a few more.”

In the distance, they hear the school bell ring out, and when Quinn reluctantly pulls away, Rachel
knows that their time is up, making her pout.

It seems to work in her favor though, because Quinn’s eyes hone in on her swollen lips
immediately, and then she’s being kissed senseless again.

Rachel loves the way they’re pressed up against each other, hip to hip and breast to breast with
seemingly no regard of personal space, and she especially loves how tactile Quinn just is with her,
when emotionally she’s so closed off in comparison.

It just makes her kiss back harder, because the person Quinn is choosing to be vulnerable and show
all her flaws with is her and her alone, and it ignites the possessive streak in her as she tugs harder
on Quinn’s form. Mine.

It really should be concerning, how they’ve been kissing for at least half an hour now with no signs
of stopping any time soon, but all Rachel feels is a burning need for more, to begin and end in
Quinn, and she just allows herself to drown deeper in her passion.

When she starts to gently suck on Quinn’s tongue in her mouth, she feels the blonde’s demeanor
change immediately, as an almost primal growl rumbles out of Quinn’s chest, and she almost
stumbles backwards as her girlfriend becomes even more aggressive in their kissing, surging
forward with a grunt.

It’s just another one of those things that she learns make Quinn tick, and she lives for these
moments.
 …And well, she also lusts for these moments when she feels like Quinn is going to throw her down
and have her wicked dirty way with her any second.

But alas, everything needs to come to an end, and finally, one of them finds the strength to pull
away, with only heavy breathing replacing the previous grunts and groans fueling the air.

“Fuck,” Quinn husks, and really, someone cursing shouldn’t be that much of a turn-on, but it is,
and Rachel has to suffer through another pang between her legs, adding to the already aching burn
just begging for friction. “You can’t- You can’t do that again while we’re at school, Rae.”

Biting down on her lip – and holy shit her swollen lips burn so good – Rachel asks, eyes dark,
“Why not?”

Quinn’s enflamed golden eyes narrow at her, almost accusing in its intensity. “You know why,
Rachel.”

“So maybe I liked doing it, and I want to do it again.” She shrugs in response, because she does.
Quinn’s animalistic sound that had erupted when she had- had sucked on her tongue is now forever
imprinted on her mind, and she so very desperately wants to hear that sound again.

“And I want to keep from being suspended from school grounds for public indecency, but we can’t
always have what we want, can we?” Quinn grumbles instead, though Rachel pays that little mind,
far too entranced with Quinn’s lips moving enticingly.

“Rachel? Rae, are you even listening? Rachel, we have to get to class!”

“Huh? Oh- Oh, right!”

Chapter End Notes

I literally have nothing else to say other than TAYLOR SWIFT’S LOVER ALBUM IS
A FABERRY ALBUM AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE MY MIND. (and uh, also
this entire chapter was basically written today and it’s 2am and I didn’t want to give
you guys a half-assed ending so I know this is shorter/less jam-packed than usual but
have mercy plz k thanks bye love yall, who knows maybe I’ll even release a chapter
early bc I feel bad about this one but hey maybe not lalala)
 VI. Part III
Chapter Summary

The one where I post late and the plot is all over the place bc of high school or
something idk

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Finally making it to Spanish class, Mr. Schue lets them go easily enough, and they duck into the
seats Kurt, Santana and Brittany had saved them.

At three knowing looks, they barely manage to keep their blushes off their faces, and Rachel
huddles closer to Quinn, scooting closer along the three-seater bench.

“You two really need to get more inconspicuous,” Santana snickers. “Your just-been-fucked looks
aren’t fooling anyone.”

Both of them flush pink immediately, and Kurt squeals, “Oh both of you are so excruciatingly
lovey-dovey!”

Quinn tenses a little, and Rachel’s eyes quickly move to see if anyone’s paying attention to them.
“Are we- Are we really that obvious?” she asks, more than a bit worried.

At this, Kurt’s eyes soften with understanding. “No one will know unless they really care to look.”

“More like they won’t think anything’s changed because you’ve been parading around practically
dating anyway,” Santana snorts, and when Brittany elbows her, she rolls her eyes. “Fine…We’ll be
your meat-shields in the halls or whatever if you need it.”

Brittany smiles at her girlfriend, before turning to them. “It’s gonna be awesome,” she nods
knowingly. “Embrace your inner unicorns, and everything will be just fine, you’ll see.”

“Thank you,” Quinn sighs out, and Rachel squeezes her hand, offering what comfort she can.
“You’re all amazing friends.”

“The rainbow squad needs to stick together,” Kurt shrugs, a small upward tilt to his lips.

Santana grimaces, “Bitch, please, we aren’t gonna be named something as lame as the rainbow
squad.”

“Mm,” Brittany agrees. “Needs more unicorns…or ducks, I’m not picky.”

“How about ‘The talented Rachel Berry and her less talented Cupids’? Has a very nice ring to it,”
Rachel suggests, only to be met with two death glares, and she shrinks back, a frown on her face.
“Well you could’ve just said so…”

At her pout, Quinn laughs, reaching out an arm to tuck her into the crook of her shoulder as Kurt
and Santana continue to bicker. “Whatever we are, I’m just glad that I have you with me Rae.”
“When did your romantic poetry turn into pure sap?” Rachel teases with a smile, snuggling more
into Quinn’s form.

“The second you allowed me to taste the sweetness of your lips,” Quinn grins back, beaming and
warm. “It’s a drug that makes me lose all my senses, and I will forever seek to chase that alluring
high once more, the thrill all-consuming in every way possible.”

“Show off,” she mumbles, biting her lip. “And would it be suspicious if we both had to use the
toilet facilities at the same time?”

“Probably.” Quinn tilts her head in response. “But damn if it’s not tempting.”

“We should’ve just skipped school today,” Rachel sulks. “Or maybe for another month.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the blonde says, a light laugh to her voice. “Sleepovers every
day. But then again, you’re over at my place so much it’s not that different. I’m surprised you
haven’t run into Mom more, actually.”

“Yeah…” Rachel trails off, trying to mask her sheepish demeanor. “Really surprising indeed.”

Quinn, of course, catches it, and she raises a brow. “What did you do?” she asks cautiously.

“…What makes you think I did anything?” Rachel hedges.

“Rachel.”

“Okay, fine,” she pouts, admitting, “I’ve been…taking note of when Judy is often at your place of
residence.”

“You’re avoiding her,” Quinn translates dryly, and Rachel flushes.

“Now, I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that,” she says, and when an unimpressed look is aimed at
her, she gives in, whining, “It’s not my fault that I would prefer to delay the ‘meet-the-parent’
interrogation dinner until I feel with confidence that I will be able to, to put into simple terms,
‘charm your mother’s pants off’.”

“Rae, sweetie, she loves you,” Quinn chuckles. “And I’ve already met your parents.”

“You were the one who wanted to do it!” Rachel yelps.

Quinn’s lips quirk up, and Rachel just knows that she’s being mocked. “Those are really rather
pointless details, don’t you think?”

Rachel’s mouth opens in indignation, and Quinn smiles a shit-eating grin at her. “Plus, now that
she knows that you asked me to be your girlfriend, she’s like a literal bloodhound, always asking
about you.”

She’s about to protest – ignoring the way her chest still flutters at the reminder that Quinn is her
girlfriend – but then Kurt is cutting in, ceasing his debate with Santana. “Hold on,” he butts into the
conversation, narrowing his eyes. “Rachel Berry, Quinn’s now your girlfriend, and you didn’t think
to tell me? Oh, the nerve of you lot! After all I’ve-”

“Oh shut up Hummel, save your ruffled feathers for later, but you mean to say that my girl Q didn’t
give me the sweet juicy deets? Q-ball I thought we were friends!”

“Keep your voices down dammit,” Quinn hisses, eyes flickering around to see if anyone had heard
– none seemed to have, fortunately. “And we didn’t tell you guys yet because it was- it was
special, so sue us if we wanted to have a bit to ourselves.”

They both have the decency to look slightly ashamed, and Brittany questions, “Oh you two didn’t
know already? I’ve known since Quinn showed up to Cheerio practice today. She was glowing.”

“Of course you did,” Kurt mutters irritably, and Santana sends him a warning glare, making him
roll his eyes. “Oh simmer down woman, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Santana mirrors tauntingly, and then they’re both fighting again,
thankfully dropping the ‘girlfriend’ line of questioning for now.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook Rachel,” Kurt calls just as she thinks that, and Rachel sighs.

But as she leans closer into Quinn, her girlfriend, she finds that she doesn’t care all that much
anyway.

X-X-X-X-X

As she feels her back collide with the hard wall – Quinn definitely takes way too much pleasure in
pinning her down – she barely stifles a moan, matching her girlfriend’s demanding kisses with her
own.

It’s not even lunch yet, but in Rachel’s very correct opinion, it’s been way too long since they had
last locked lips, with her – Rachel Berry – not even being able to concentrate in class with Quinn’s
alluring lips mocking her every step of the way.

She’s probably addicted to Quinn in a degree that’s bordering on unhealthy, but pft, who could get
a taste of Quinn’s lips and not be?

But then again, she’s going to make damn sure that the only person who’s ever going to taste
Quinn’s lips again be her and her alone, so she’s never going to know, and she’s happy to keep it
that way.

It’s with that thought that she sucks on Quinn’s tongue harder, knowing what a surefire way that is
to rile the blonde up, and sure enough, the guttural sound that erupts from Quinn’s chest sends a
straight pang of want to Rachel’s core, thumping between her legs dangerously.

Both of them had taken care to keep their sounds to a minimal, still conscious of how new this all
is, but Rachel’s always been verbal in every aspect of her life, so she can’t hold in a little whimper
as Quinn’s fingers thrum against her exposed collarbone, almost as if she was tapping out a rhythm
only known to her.

If that’s the case, then Rachel’s happy to be Quinn’s song forever.

Before she knows it, her hand has unconsciously moved to beneath Quinn’s Cheerio top, and
Rachel can’t help but flick a thumb against smooth, hard abs, relishing how they flex beneath her
small ministrations.

During the massage she had given Quinn a few weeks back, she wasn’t able to properly feel the
blonde’s abs as she was on her stomach the entire time, and now that she can, she’s entranced by
how they feel, rippling in a fascinating way that has Rachel spellbound.

She doesn’t even realize that she’s running her entire hand against them, tight against Quinn’s skin
from the constricting polyester of the cheerleader’s top until Quinn pushes her hand away gently,
eyes dark and gleaming.

Drawing back for a moment and in that husky tone that always gets Rachel going, she warns,
“Rachel.”

“Quinn,” she retorts in a whine, already diving back in for another kiss.

Quinn, of course, bends to her will all too easily, and Rachel keeps her hands to blonde hair this
time, putting down the urge to feel Quinn’s intoxicating abs in favor of running her hands through
silky tresses instead.

Her lips burn with a fervor as she hungrily runs her tongue over Quinn’s, and the taste and smell of
mangoes and vanilla follows her everywhere, luring her in back for more every time she pulls away
slightly to catch her breath.

Ha, who needs air when they have Quinn Fabray instead anyway? Certainly not her.

Her burning lungs probably have something to say to that, but her entire mind is clouded by the
force that is Quinn, with everything else faded and jumbled in the background, and she kisses back
harder, the way Quinn’s tongue is sliding over hers magical in every sense of the word.

“What are you doing to me?” Quinn questions, low and rough, and Rachel groans at the visual of
swollen pink lips.

“What are you doing to me?” she counters as she feels Quinn begin to pepper small little kisses at
the base of her jawline, light and barely just there and so, so teasingly.

“That- That feels good,” she mumbles, lost in how Quinn is trailing up her jaw and to her ear,
moving slowly in a way that’s both torturous and heavenly as the same time.

But oh, what a heavenly way to die it would be.

Quinn is obviously pleased, and she hums, “Yeah?”

The seductive tone is so arousing that it’s practically unfair, and Rachel gasps as Quinn latches
onto the patch of skin right behind her ear, sucking on it. “Oh, that’s- That feels really good.”

There’s a small voice of reason in her mind telling her to remind Quinn not to leave any marks, but
then a tongue is flickering lazily over her skin, and she loses all form of comprehension, mouth
parting in a silent o as Quinn nips softly at her skin.

Well…she’s just found her weakness.

She’s pretty sure that they’re moving way too fast, but all her nerves are telling her otherwise,
pleasure radiating from and to every inch of her body, and then-

The fucking bell rings.

No! she instantly thinks, We’re moving way too slow. Waaaaaay too slow. Now god, take back the
fucking bell dammit!

Pretty sure that’s not how it works hon.

Oh fuck the bell, we can make out till school ends for all I care!

“Rae, we gotta get to class.”

No we don’t!

God, when did I become the voice of reason? …But then again, I have no qualms about making out
with Quinn till sundown. Do carry on then.

“Quinn,” Rachel pouts, jutting her lip forward, and Quinn closes her eyes, backing away.

“Nope, nuh uh.” She shakes her head. “I’m not falling for that again.”

Sensing an opportunity – ah ha! the little chibi representation of her shakes her little fist in triumph
– Rachel edges closer, ghosting her lips against Quinn’s neck. “Please Quinn?”

At how innocent she sounds and how Quinn’s throat works to swallow tightly, she gives herself a
little pat on the back, and she plants a featherlight kiss on alabaster skin, worshipping the column
of skin with an almost reverence.

“You’re…You’re a little minx, you know that?” Quinn finally says, inching open her eyes, and
Rachel is met with burning bright golden embers, dark and dangerous.

The sharp ache between her legs just throbs harder, and she has to clench her thighs together to
relieve the tension, if only for a little bit. “So,” she husks, a small little smile playing on the edge of
her lips at the power that runs through her veins. “What are you doing to do with me?”

Quinn just looks at her, hazel eyes flaring, and then she’s being pulled into a deep kiss, and there is
nothing else.

X-X-X-X-X

After what seems like an eternity, lunch period finally rolls around, and Rachel walks out of her
class to be met with Quinn, already waiting for her with lunch for both of them in hand.

When she spots the clouded look in Quinn eyes, especially when Quinn doesn’t lead with ‘My
lady’ as they link arms, that’s what tips Rachel off.

Focusing more on the blonde’s face, it’s clear that she’s deep in thought, and the way her brow is
knit tight together doesn’t bode well, making Rachel bite her lip in worry.

“You okay?” she inquires, pretty sure what Quinn is thinking about.

The Cheerio spares a quick glance at her, before continuing to walk them down the hallway.
“Yeah,” she dismisses. “I’m fine.”

It’s rather apparent to Rachel that she’s not, but she doesn’t push, knowing that it might draw
attention and that’s the last thing both of them need right now.

As they walk towards the cafeteria, Rachel muses it’s not that different from before, but this time,
she can tell that they’re both on high alert as they pass by students, wondering if anyone could tell
that something’s changed.
Thankfully, the entire student body seems to have gotten used to their affectionate tendencies by
now, and no one bats an eye when Rachel clings onto Quinn’s arm or when Quinn glares at a
random jock looking like he wants to bring up some beef, even though both of them are rather
tense, movements stilted.

Still, when they enter the cafeteria, it feels like everyone is looking at them even though they
aren’t, and Rachel feels Quinn go even more rigid next to her, face coiled in that blank way of hers
that means she’s about to lash out at any second now.

When Rachel squeezes the hand in hers and gets no response, she nudges the blonde gently, careful
not to provoke her as she slowly guides them out of the supposed spotlight and to a corner of the
cafeteria that no one pays much attention to.

“Hey, hey,” she says, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “Focus on me, kay? It’s just you and I
Quinn, just focus on me, and my hand in yours.”

“Fuck, Rae, I can’t-” Quinn whispers, and Rachel knows that she’s trying hard to seem unfazed,
but it’s in the way that Quinn’s voice cracks that proves otherwise, making Rachel’s heart ache for
the blonde.

Something doesn’t add up, as Quinn had seemed perfectly fine earlier, if only just a bit on edge, so
Rachel doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly so torn up about it now, and she furrows her brow
in confusion.

But still, she knows that that’s not what Quinn needs right now, so she tries her best to pull the
blonde’s attention onto her instead, hoping that her thumb rubbing circles on the back of Quinn’s
hand is good enough for now, not much else she can do under the scrutiny of the student body.

“Auditorium?” she asks softly.

“Auditorium,” Quinn breathes out, and then Rachel is ushering them away from the crowds and
judging eyes.

Quinn stays tense the entire way through, even when they get to the auditorium where they know
that no one will disturb them, and for once, Rachel is at a loss to say, not sure what she can do
about the situation.

A small part of her feels guilty, because it’s their relationship that’s causing Quinn to panic so
much, and even though she knows that it’s a silly thought, she can’t help but think it.

She’s texting a message to explain the situation to Santana when Quinn finally speaks, face full of
anguish. “God, I’m sorry Rach,” she sounds out, voice choked up. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You’re my mess,” Rachel immediately responds, bound by a need to make sure Quinn knows that.
“You have my back, and I’ll have yours.”

“You- You don’t get it,” Quinn shakes her head, her conflicting emotions apparent. “I’m supposed
to be strong for you, because you deserve so much more than that, but I can’t even do something as
simple as keeping my fucking calm, and I can’t-”

“Quinn, breathe,” Rachel moves to assure the blonde quickly, though she keeps her distance, easily
recognizing the signs of an incoming meltdown by now. “Breathe for me baby, can you do that?”

There’s a moment of Quinn closing her eyes, and Rachel’s vaguely worried for a second, but then
Quinn is exhaling a long breath, her muscles finally relaxing. “I can’t seem to do much of fucking
anything at the moment, but I’ll try I guess.” The Cheerio cracks a tired smile, and Rachel breathes
a sigh of relief.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know,” she says, deeming it safe to move closer
to the blonde. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Quinn doesn’t reply, eyes downcast, and Rachel purses her lips. “Someone said something,” she
deduces finally, swallowing, and when Quinn tenses up, just that slightest bit, Rachel narrows her
eyes, a surge of protectiveness blossoming in her chest.

“What happened?” she asks, wondering who she had to send Santana after. Whoever put that look
on Quinn’s face would pay for it; she’d make sure of it.

When she spots Quinn’s fingers twitching, awfully close to her ribs, Rachel bites down on her inner
lip, hating how helpless she feels. “Quinn, please,” she begs.

There’s a long beat, and then Quinn is sighing out in defeat. “Go parade with your dyky little bitch,
Fabgay,” she says, as if she’s repeating someone’s words.

Rachel gets the implications fast as lightning, and her eyes darken harshly, an angry bile building
up in her throat that she hasn’t felt in a long while. “Who?”

Quinn looks away, and Rachel feels her hands clench harder. She repeats the word again, knowing
that she can’t really say much more without bursting into a rant, and then, in a soft tone barely
reaching Rachel’s ears, “Karofsky.”

Rachel inhales a sharp breath to reign in her anger, and Quinn chuckles mirthlessly. “I shouldn’t be
this torn up over this, I really shouldn’t. He says stuff like that all the time, but- but today’s our first
day at school as- as a couple, and I couldn’t- I just- I-”

“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Rachel mumbles darkly under her breath, already plotting all the
ways she and Santana can make his life even more miserable than it already is, and she’s
completely unprepared for Quinn laughing lightly, a small smile lighting up her otherwise tired
features.

“What?” she pouts, and Quinn lets loose a little giggle, genuine and shining through Quinn’s
drained emotions.

“I’m sorry, I just- You’re just so cute when you swear,” the blonde stifles a smile, and even though
Rachel huffs in indignance at the response, her chest feels lighter at the sight of Quinn happier
again, making Rachel happy too.

“Well I’m never trying to defend your honor ever again,” she grumbles, folding her arms together.

“Rachel Berry, my hero,” Quinn chuckles dryly, and then Rachel is willingly being pulled down to
the chair next to the one that the blonde is sitting in, arm automatically moving to wrap around
Quinn’s waist with a content sigh.

Grabbing the vegan sandwich Quinn had prepared for her like she does every Monday, she absently
notes, “We’re going to be late for Glee.”

“Eh, Mr. Schue won’t care much,” Quinn shrugs in reply, nuzzling closer towards Rachel’s neck in
a way that’s reversed from their usual positions, and it’s that reminder of what Karofsky’s actions
had resulted in that makes the fury in Rachel’s veins burn hot once more.
But before she can scheme any further on inconspicuously orchestrating Karofsky’s unlucky and
unfortunate demise, Quinn is distracting her with a soft, “Hold me?”

Rachel swallows, and she vows, “Always.”

X-X-X-X-X

By the time they deem it appropriate to head to Glee, Quinn’s gotten much lighter, and they walk
into the choir rooms with arms linked assuredly.

“Ah, Quinn, Rachel, finally!” Mr. Schue greets in that chipper way of his. “I was worried,
especially about you Rachel, you’re usually the first person in the choir room you know.”

“Sorry about that Mr. Schue,” Quinn apologizes smoothly, and at the mischievous tone Rachel
hears practically bleeding out of the blonde’s voice, she bites her lip, wondering what she’s up to.
“I had some…womanly problems, and Rachel, being the nice person she is, helped me. She was
very nice in resolving them.”

Rachel feels her cheeks heat up – because they totally did make out for a while after cuddling in
the auditorium – and she keeps her eyes trained away from Santana’s gaze, knowing what she’ll
find there.

“Oh, that’s fine, take a seat,” Mr. Schue accepts without another word, and he claps his hands
together. “I know that I’ve said this a dozen times since you two have become close, I really am
happy that you two have worked out your differences. See guys, being friends is what Glee is all
about!”

“Uh…sure,” Quinn’s dry reply rings through, and Rachel giggles, leading them to their seats.

With her amazing hearing skills she hears Tina whisper “Still so weird” to Mike, but she ignores it
in favor of huddling closer to Quinn, though not too close, careful to account for Quinn’s caution
today.

“So,” Kurt smirks haughtily, leaning in above from the upper row. “You two were making out,
weren’t you?”

With the close proximity of all the Gleeks, Rachel quickly moves to shush the boy, and a look of
understanding flashes in his eyes. “You’re not planning on telling them?”

“Later, we will,” Rachel promises. “But now, both of us- both of us just need some time to…
adjust.”

“You don’t have to make it sound that pretty Rae,” Quinn sighs, biting her lip. “I know it’s mostly
me that’s keeping us from- from you know.”

Rachel’s about to protest, but a look from Quinn quiets her down. “Just know that I’m here for you
no matter what, okay?” she says instead.

“We have your back Quinn,” Kurt agrees, before a wistful look crosses his face. “Now, if only I
could have your skin complexion too.”

“Stop being creepy Hummel,” Quinn rolls her eyes, though it’s clear she’s thankful for the topic
change.

Kurt isn’t deterred. “Then give me your nightly skincare routine,” he argues, a bit of a whine to his
tone. “There’s not a chance anyone can look as flawless as you without one.”

Quinn arches a brow. “Care to bet?”

Narrowing his eyes, Kurt huffs. “Fine, let’s all go to the mall later then, your fellow red knights
have agreed too.”

“Santana and Brittany?” Quinn asks, mildly impressed. “Wait, let me rephrase that. Santana.
How’d you get her to agree to that?”

“I have my ways,” Kurt nods mysteriously, and Quinn deadpans.

“You lured her with the prospect of having more changing stall sex with Brittany and told B that
there were duck toys there, didn’t you?”

“…No. Maybe.”

Quinn shoots him a dry look, and Kurt, demeanor that of a bird with ruffled feathers, turns up his
nose. “…Yes.”

Rachel’s thoroughly enjoying just staying in the background – for once in her life – and observing
her girlfriend (in a totally not stalkerish way), but then, she feels a familiar gaze aimed at her, and
her skin prickles, knowing the only possible person it could be.

Casting a quick glance sideways, her suspicions are confirmed. Finn’s at it again, staring at her
like he’s been prone to do for these past couple days where Quinn’s let up a bit, looking at them
with a scrutinizing gaze that seems almost accusing.

Rachel sighs, wondering if the boy would ever learn to take a hint.

He hasn’t tried to talk to her ever since that first day of school thanks to the almost constant
presence of Quinn around her, but he’s seemed to have gotten braver now, staring brazenly at her
constantly during Glee.

Quinn obviously notices her discomfort, stopping her conversation with Kurt, and when she tracks
her gaze to one Finn Hudson, the blonde growls, tightening her hold around Rachel’s waist and
pulling them closer together.

From the corner of her eye, Rachel sees Finn’s eyes narrow, the slow cogs in his head turning, but
finally, he seems to understand that he won’t be winning this battle (or any future ones, at that, Bi-
rry mutters in the back of her head), and he turns away with a grunt, clearly unhappy about it.

Next to her, Quinn lets out a pleased little hum, and Rachel can’t resist her blush at the blonde’s
possessiveness. It makes her feel cherished, wanted, and if Quinn being possessive turns her on
like crazy, well then, that’s just a major plus.

Glee passes by quickly enough, and after Mr. Schue dismisses them, Rachel tells Quinn to wait for
her while she talks to Santana.
Quinn looks at her with suspicious eyes in response. “What are you up to this time?” she asks
warily. “Should I be scared?”

“Not you,” Rachel mutters underneath her breath, but evidently that was a bad idea, tipping Quinn
off.

“You’re sending her after Karofsky, aren’t you?”

Rachel doesn’t even bother to seem contrite. “He deserves it.”

Quinn, for her part, doesn’t seem to be angry, with the edge of her lips curled up just so in a way
that tells Rachel that she’s amused instead. “What happened to Rachel ‘I love everybody and
everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves’ Berry?”

“I suppose you’re my exception then,” she shrugs, because it’s true. She won’t let what Karofsky
said and avertedly caused go unpunished, that’s for sure, and even she could admit that sometimes
people really couldn’t change, or rather, want to.

“Wow, special treatment from Rachel Berry? I’m honored,” Quinn drawls, thumb drawing slow
lazy circles on the brunette’s waist, and Rachel’s breath can’t help but hitch as Quinn draws closer,
just enough so that it steps right on the edge of friendliness and intimacy. “And I really, really,
want to kiss you right now, just so you know.”

“We could go sneak elsewhere right now,” Rachel suggests overeagerly, mind clouded with the
haze that Quinn brings with her everywhere. But still, she manages to keep some semblance of
brain power, remembering, “…Just, right after I instruct Santana on how to properly make him pay
first.”

“Go be the little vengeful serial killer you’ve always dreamed to be Berry,” Quinn chuckles, gently
pushing and snapping Rachel out of her reverie.

“Yeah,” she mumbles as she half-mindedly walks towards Santana. “Yeah, I’ll- I’ll do just that.”

When she reaches Santana, the smirk she’s met with it totally mocking. “Jesus, what did Quinn do
to you?”

“What hasn’t she done?”

She doesn’t realize that she’s said the words out loud until it’s too late, and Santana is snorting,
“Kinky.”

Rachel blushes a deep red instantly. “Look,” she starts though, staving her embarrassment off for
now. “I’m here to talk to you about what happened with Quinn today at lunch.”

Santana straightens up at that, and she narrows her eyes. “Who do I need to beat up and why?”

“Karofsky said some…rather impertinent words to that that I’m sure you can imagine,” Rachel
sighs, knowing that Santana’s faced her fair share of them as well. “It managed to get to Quinn
today, and well-”

“I’ll take care of it,” the Latina nods, eyes now fueled with fire.

“I’d tell you to go easy on him, but…” Rachel simply shrugs, and Santana laughs.

“Damn Berry, didn’t know you had it in you,” she appraises. “But yeah, I’ll make sure I’ll get him
good. In the meantime, you probably should go take care of Ken over there though.”

It takes a second for it to click into place, and then Rachel is huffing in outrage and spinning on her
heal with a vehemence, marching over to where Sam is chatting Quinn up.

The boy’s tried nothing so far on Quinn – her girlfriend – that she knows of, but damn if Rachel’s
not going to continue to make sure he doesn’t ever.

He might seem nice enough, but Quinn is hers now, and Sam Evans will not jeopardize that!

“Why, hello there Sam,” she greets with an (as fake as Nicki Minaj’s ass) smile, latching onto
Quinn’s arm. “Quinn, you ready to go?”

Quinn obviously knows what’s going on, and Rachel can tell that she’s stifling a smile. “Mm, of
course, I was just finishing up with Sam here.”

At the mention of his name, he perks up (like a fucking excited dog, Rachel grumbles), adorning a
dorky smile, laughing. “Yup…that’s me.”

Rachel’s eyes narrow, and she barely manages to keep the sneer off of her face. How dare he try to
outdork me! she internally seethes, No one outdorks me dammit!

But still, she graciously refrains from violently challenging the obviously delusional boy to a sing-
off of dominance – that is so one-sided Rachel is already practicing her victory song – and instead
continues to smile beautifully, blinding her audience and bringing them to her feet.

And if the ways that she imagines Sam and Quinn to their feet completely different – the latter
certainly includes less ‘dead on the floor’ and more ‘worshipping thighs with kisses’ – then so be
it.

Alas though, she must play nice for now. Rachel has prepared for many roles, but even she can
admit that this one is going to be a challenging one.

“Hm, that’s nice,” she grins, not shark-like and predatory at all. “What are you doing with Quinn,
Sam?”

…Well, at least she didn’t sound that venomous. She’ll take her wins where she can get them.

At her tone, Sam baulks, looking slightly afraid of Rachel, and she feels the little chibi in her head
laugh in triumph. You have been thwarted by the talented and almighty Rachel Berry,
muahahahaha!

Sam, of course, has to go interrupt her amazingly crafted victory speech with opening his fucking
trouty-mouth. “Um, I was just asking Quinn if she wanted to do a duet in Glee.”

From next to Rachel, an obviously trying-hard-not-to-laugh Quinn is nodding along semi-

seriously. “Uh huh, he was.”

“And uh, I know you’re her best friend or something, so like, while you’re here, I’d like to ask for
your…blessing?” Sam asks, awkward in a way that is too fucking endearing for his own good. “I
mean, I’m not, like, asking for anything important – not that this duet isn’t important to me, I’d
really love to-”

“That’s enough,” Rachel almost growls out, “Quinn’s unavailable for any duets that aren’t with
me, so rather unfortunately, you’ll have to find another duet partner.”
At the hurt puppy expression that appears on Sam’s face as a result, she almost feels bad, knowing
that he’s probably one of the only decent guys in Glee, but Quinn lets out a slow laugh, and then
she’s reminded of staking her claim.

Sorry Evans, but Quinn’s hers.

“Maybe next time Sam,” Quinn offers, eyes gleaming. “But you know. Whatever Rachel says
goes, or she’ll get grumpy.”

Sam instantly nods eagerly, as if he’s already happy enough with Quinn’s response – honestly and
grudgingly, Rachel can’t blame him, she was exactly like him at first with Quinn, sometimes still is
– and he cracks another smile. “Well, it was- it was really nice talking to you, at least.”

With that, he waddles off, and Rachel grumbles, “Why does he have to be a nice guy? Why? At
least with Finn he was a dick, but nooooo, curse you god!”

“Rachel, you know I only like you right?” Quinn breaks into her thoughts with an amused but still
tender smile. “And I’m…kind of really gay, so.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I just- What if- What if next time, it’s a girl instead, and-”

“I’ll still not be interested in her, because she’s not Rachel Berry,” Quinn cuts her off, reiterating,
“You’re all I and ever will want Rae.”

At that, Rachel slowly nods, and she says softly, “You’re all I want too.”

“Good,” Quinn affirms, and she grins as she tugs Rachel along gently. “Now come on, let’s go
sneak off somewhere.”

Rachel bites her lip to keep her smirk in place. “Why, what are you planning Miss Fabray?”

“What do you think I’m planning?” Quinn husks, leaning in closer now that the entire choir room
is cleared out, and Rachel’s body rolls with pleasure, anticipating running through her veins.

“I’d rather you show me,” she breathes out, voice low, and then their lips are meeting in a perfect
crescendo.

How did I get so lucky?

X-X-X-X-X

Really, she still can’t get over it by the time school lets out, even when they’re all heading to the
mall to grab some food, and something must show on her face as they walk, because Quinn’s
smiling at her with a soft look.

“Something you’re thinking about?” she asks, a musical tilt to her voice.

“There are a lot of things that I’m thinking about, actually,” Rachel grins. “…Though, none are as
encaptivating as you.”

“Well that’s because you make me better,” Quinn shrugs. “You make me a better person just by
being around me, and you make me want to be a better person for you.”
 Rachel shakes her head, absently rubbing little patterns with her thumb onto the back of Quinn’s
hand. “You do that all on your own Quinn,” she says as she leans her head onto the blonde’s
shoulder. “I’m just lucky enough to be here and give you a little push.”

Casting a glance upwards, she sees Quinn send a beaming smile at her, full of adoration and
fondness, and her lips stretch into her own bashful smile, just simply happy and content in this
quiet moment of peace as they walk along.

“Awww, look at how absolutely cute they are!” Kurt gushes from behind them.

“Oi, Hummel, hush, you’re ruining the show!”

“…Ohhh, am I ruining the moment?”

“Hey San, can you buy me one of those stuffed duckies over there?”

“…Of course, Brits.”

“Ha, admit it, you’re whipped Satan!”

“Well at least I have someone to be whipped for!”

“Ouch, low blow woman! You know how sad this is for me, being surrounded by a bunch of- well
by one nauseatingly adorable couple and one kind-of cute couple, I’m all alo-”

“Hummel, you did not just put Faberry over Brittana!”

“Oh my god, I yield, I yield, Santana, this is designer!”

“Yeah well, I’m gonna redesign your face!”

“Stop the violence!”

And as their friends bicker behind them, Rachel can’t help exchange another smile with Quinn,
thinking that it really wouldn’t get any much better than this.

…Because, of course, with all the whirlwind romance and windswept dates that had been going on
amidst the drama of teenage life, they had kind of forgotten about the slight problem that presented
itself within one Finn Hudson.

Chapter End Notes

This is like two days late, I'm sorry. Cue the excuses: School is back up, and sleep is
dead, and I’m pretty sure that either I’m going to kill this fic or this fic is going to kill
me, so just bear with me please.

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