Kind of sucks, yeah, but I haven't written in ages and this episode was fantastic. And, oh, yeah, I'm a Faberry shipper now?

"We're kind of friends, huh?"

A smile. One that can't hide anything.

"Kind of."

She thinks it's sort of nice, being able to look at someone, see their smile, and know there's no lie behind it, no betrayal. Rachel isn't going to hurt her; she's not going to stab her in the back or anything of the sort. In fact, she's saved her, and it makes Quinn want to just hug her and squeeze her and not let go – because she's let go of so many people, Finn, Puck, Beth, her family, and she knows if she lets Rachel slip from her grasp for a fragment of a second, she could be sucked away into that black hole like the rest of them.

And she can't let Rachel Berry go, of all people, because, see, Rachel is something special. She's happy and she's sunny and she's bright; she's been led to the slaughter multiple times – many of those times with Quinn as the shepherd – but she doesn't bow her head in shame, she doesn't run away. She keeps fighting, she keeps pushing on. And Quinn, she's not even sure how that's physically possible, but it's Rachel, who can get hit in the face by a fucking train and keep going, just so long as it doesn't hurt her nose.

It might be why Quinn likes – is exceptionally fond of – can tolerate –

Oh, hell, loves her.

Sure, it might be a little misplaced, a little late, a little inappropriate, but goddammit if that grin doesn't just make you want to wrap your arms around her and stuff her into your pocket. The only thing that makes her stand back is the fact that Rachel is perfect, while Quinn – she's a hot damn mess, and there's no way in hell she deserves perfection.

What a warped view of perfect she once had, she thinks. Beautiful blonde hair, sexy smiles and skirts, and the highest popularity status out there. Now she knows perfect isn't how schoolgirl you look, or how high you rank on the food chain – it's how true to yourself you are, how happy you are with who you are. Which makes Rachel God's gift to the universe – and Quinn the dirty old toy no one wants for Christmas.

"By the way," Rachel says later, right there when Quinn leaves the bathroom with her hand at the ready. Quinn readily links their fingers. "Your solo was amazing. Not quite as amazing as you could've made it – if you had proper vocal training from, oh, say, me, for example – but still pretty great."

Quinn smiles, and she hopes Rachel doesn't notice how her grip tightens – and yet does. "Thanks."

And she thinks, maybe she doesn't have to be perfect. Maybe Rachel's perfect enough for both of them. And besides, where's the fun in flawless?