A/N So, this is my first Faberry fic. It takes place a long while after high school, and when it starts Quinn and Rachel are broken up.

This will probably be moved to my other account soon. Well don't be too hard on me but I would love some tips or anything at all. :) ~SA704M

Let's Take A Step Back

~Quinn Fabray

I've been telling you about this girl for a while now, but I never told you how we met. Really what was I thinking, I've never heard of a story without a beginning have you? Let me start then. It was early morning, the air was a bit chilled I was already on the cheerleading team by this time. I got to school early for a 6:00 am practice, no one there at all, so I took my time getting from the locker room to the field. I was always one to really take in my surroundings, so I took a look around that morning; the sky was just brightening up, it was October, and the leaves were lit up in multi-colored tints of orange and yellow. Just by the gates for the football field, I saw her, sitting under a tree, as I got closer to the gates, she looked at me. I mean she really looked at me, in my eyes, right through to my insides. Just like that I felt something I hadn't felt for any guy I had dated before. I knew right then and there that there was something about her, us. I didn't talk to her that day or within the next month actually, I avoided her. I was afraid of myself and those feelings, but I got to look at her everyday, and she wouldn't have to know, but you all know that didn't last long.

The blonde, with short cropped hair made her way over to a news paper stand, picking up a copy of the New York Times. "I'll take one of these please." She smiled a genuine smile and handed over $2.50. It was 8:00 am on a Saturday it was April and this was exactly what she would call a perfect spring day.

"Don't you get your own copy?" the man behind the counter asked, with a smile as he took her money.

"Of course I do, this one is for a good friend of mine." She turned on her heel and started off towards The Ellington apartment building.

"You have a way with words, Miss Fabray!" the man shouted out to her as above the already steady crowd bustling through the streets of Times Square.

"Thank you Chris!" She shouted back and kept walking, while pulling out her cell phone. She punched in the numbers and held the phone to her ear, it rang, and rang, for a while, too long, when the answering machine finally picked up.

"Puckerman! It is 8am, actually it's 8:12, on a Saturday." She breathed into the phone. "You should be awake and ready to go. I have awesome plans for us today! You're missing out. So get up you lazy bum!"

Noah Puckerman rolled over in his covers and let out a sigh as he picked up the phone from beside his bed. "Your voice is way too enthusiastic for this early in the morning." He said this as her rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I miss sleeping in on my Saturdays off." He kind of laughed as he said this but he meant this. July to August he worked almost every day with an occasional Tuesday off, the hours weren't long usually from 6-8pm but mostly it ran later. And he worked harder from September to the end of January unless, they made it to the Super Bowl then he barely rested. That's right Noah Puckerman was living out his dream too, something he never thought he would have done, he was now playing for the New York Giants as a wide receiver.

"That's what Sunday's are for, that's when I don't bother you. Now come down stairs and get me! I haven't had my coffee yet so you should get that ready." She laughed."

"Quinn, do you want me to get you or start the coffee first? I really don't think you need coffee, you must have already had six cups."

"Honestly? I can't decide which is more important, coffee being ready for me, or getting inside first." She said trying to hold a laugh in, she was unsuccessful and Puck rolled his eyes.

"I don't think you realize how ridiculous you sound." He laughed. "Come upstairs on your own, the door will be unlocked, I'm heading in the shower." He started the coffee maker up and hung up before Quinn was able to protest.

Quinn took the elevator up to the eighth floor and turned right heading to room 823. The door was held open with a shoe that was wedged in the doorway, typical Puck. Quinn picked up the shoe, glad to find that it was his own and not another girl's. Puck was still known for his weekly girlfriends and one night stands, he didn't care what the tabloids printed, he wasn't going to change for them. The apartment already smelled of coffee, Quinn followed the sent into the kitchen, placing the shoe by Puck's door on the way.

The blonde took in the familiar surroundings, Puck was her best friend, after college they even lived together, after the happenings of Quinn's break up, he didn't really have a place and he happily gave her the room he never used. Their relationship had never been anything more than friends since high school, and although Puck seemed to have wanted more from her he laid off and let her be. Now they were fine just having each other's company. Quinn, always felt like she was using Puck, back when they lived together, and she hated herself for it, promising to move out when she got a job.

Puck never minded having a Quinn as a roommate, Quinn on the other hand felt like she was intruding whenever Puck brought home a new girl. Quinn got a job at a café, which she still kept, it helped feed her coffee addiction and it was great because she could work early mornings, get going and then head to her second job as the New York Times columnist, where she also was an editor. She didn't always have that job though, it all happened on accident. She was an intern straight out of college, she mostly was reading over articles that would never make print, she still loved it. She would learn from the other's mistakes and later got the job as an editor.

One day she was writing at her cubicle, nothing of high quality, just a simple letter to her mother who still lived back in Ohio. She loved the idea of receiving letters and sending them back, her mother, hated it, she never felt like the letters came fast enough and she felt like her daughter was hiding her feelings behind her writing. Which, after the break up, she was in a way hiding behind her words. The thing was, instead of sending her mom the letter she wrote, she sent her the edited paper, and you can guess where her letter went. Sign, sealed and delivered to the editor in chief, and that's when her talent was discovered, she was now making a living off of a mistake she'd made.

Puck came out into the kitchen with a pair of loose fitting jeans, his boxers showing and no shirt. Quinn took this as an opportunity, she kicked him, right in the ass, and giggled girlishly. "Get a belt, or these pants come off!" She threatened, jokingly, hands on either side of him gripping the jean material.

"I hope you realize how immature that you are." He laughed and looked her in the eyes. "Do you ever think, that maybe that was why she broke up with you?" He cocked an eyebrow and gave off his signature smirk.

"Not cool!" She yanked the material down and before turning around. "Get a belt, and put on a shirt."

"Quinn, you.. I was joking."

She gave him a look, he turned around and went to pick up his pants, just as he bent over, she kicked him again. This time he landed with a loud thump, against the hardwood flooring. "Now I know you were." She laughed.

He groaned, getting up and rolled his eyes at her. "You really are the worst, you know that right?" He reached his room looking for a shirt, and called back to her, "Have you even had coffee yet?"

"No."

"Why are you giving me one worded answers?" He asked, walking back into the kitchen.

"I was… I.. do you think we could go to that café the one that you like so much?" She said in a small voice, with a quirky smile."

"What's wrong with my coffee?" He said seriously.

"Nothing. I haven't even tried it to be honest." She looked down at her shoes, like she had done something wrong.

"Oh. Now you're gonna get it!" He ran over to Quinn getting her in a headlock and wrestling her until they were both lying on the floor. "You're going to drink my coffee and you are going to like it!" He laughed when she shook her head, leaning his back against the cabinets, he smiled. "Seriously how the hell did your parents manage to take care of you?"

"They didn't I was a feral child, they left me in the woods until I was 14 and old enough to start high school. That's also the reason for my being such a bitch to everyone. I just didn't know how to act."

"I'm sure Judy would absolutely love to hear that."

Puck had his shoulder around Quinn, who was holding the same newspaper from earlier under her arm. She smiled as they finally reached the café she had been talking about. Walking in the aromas blended into a haze of warmth, Quinn took a deep breath as Puck watched her chest rise and fall.

"Yeah I need to get you off of those coffee inhalants too, don't I?" Puck mumbled, then laughed as they took their seats.

They ordered, neither of them needing to look at the menu, but they did it anyways. Both ordered large coffees and a muffin, Quinn's coffee being a French Vanilla blended with caramel and Puck's being just a caramel. Quinn took a long sip from her coffee, then she slid a page of the newspaper across the table, keeping the rest to herself to look over.

Minutes passed before Puck looked up and smiled. "It's really good. But it's a lie."

"What's a lie?" Her nose scrunched up as she looked through the paper.

"That's not when you two first met it's when you first saw her."

"That's not a big deal. What do you think I should write next?"

He ignored her question and took a slow sip of his coffee, it was still to hot, and he couldn't understand how Quinn was almost done with her own. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Well, look at this." She placed her pace of the newspaper down and flattened it against the table's surface."

"What am I looking at?"

"This," she pointed at the Theater Review section, "It was the opening night just last night."

Puck sighed. "Quinn." He gave her a look.

"What?" She kept her eyes down on the paper."

"Are you sure you want to go?" He smiled, knowing that if he tried to get her out of it, she would just end up going by herself. "What seats did you get?"

"Balcony that way she won't see us." She grinned, but puck could tell her smile was only half-heartedly, that she was still broken.

"Quinn, before we go out on our normal Saturday activities," He laughed at this because nothing was ever normal about their Saturdays. One minute they'd be at a show, the next they could be at an exhibit in the Guggenheim. "I've been wondering, you've had this job for about a month now,"

"Yes I have." She grinned, proudly at the statement.

"I'm just a little concerned, what do you think is going to happen if she reads this?" He frowned and watched the blonde's reaction, still content but no hint of a smile.

"She would only read the paper if she knew she were in it." She gave a quirky smile as if she knew some sort of secret.

"Yeah, exactly she is in the paper. Last night was her opening night. There are going to be reviews of her performance nearly everyday." He now watched her reaction changer from content to despair.