Title: Just Ask Finn
Author: animatedbrowneyes
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn (mentions of Finn/Quinn, Sam/Quinn, Rachel/Finn, Rachel/Puck, Rachel/Jesse) with a brief appearance of Brittany/Santana and Kurt/Blaine
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. What I would do if I did...oh, the possibilities are endless.
Prompt: Quinn starts to fall for Rachel and starts to freak out accordingly and not knowing who to talk to about it though she goes to Finn for advice. Finn is surprisingly okay with it (whether it's because he just genuinely wants Quinn to be happy or he's moved on to Kurt or Puck is up to the author). Bonus if he ends up playing cupid for the two and coaches her on what not to say during their first date.
Hey! I've always wanted to do a prompt, with my own little tricks, as usual. I found it while perusing on a glee_fluff_meme and thought I'd give a shot. I hope it's enjoyed!
This had to be Armageddon. What else would it be?
She wasn't in a romantic comedy. More like an epic, heartfelt drama with a touch of documentary for girls-once-pregnant and a side romance, maybe.
She wasn't bewitched nor in the practice of using hallucinogenic drugs. Okay, wait. There was one time. Puck knew a guy, with a random party—no, no, back to the issue.
She wasn't trapped in a nightmare or in some sort of parallel reality, or at least she thought so. She'd seen Inception. You never know these days.
So...the signs really did point to the end of the world, because, there was no way in hell that Quinn Fabray had developed feelings for Rachel Berry. That would be stupid.
Quinn sighed, drumming her fingers on the piano in the thankfully empty choir room, getting impatient with herself. Was she that far in denial?
She supposed it to have originated with the words, "I don't hate you" or "no one in Glee is going to judge you", but Quinn couldn't be sure. Rachel had just always been around, being her happy and smiley self, mere seconds away from a tirade about her dreams if someone made the unfortunate error to ask her about her future, and always managed to be sincere and helpful, even with her most despicable enemies—case in point, Quinn. The blonde simply couldn't understand why it had to be Rachel.
Maybe her upbringing forced thoughts of experimenting from her clean, Christian brain—yeah, right—but suddenly, after the explosion of her tryst with Finn and breaking Sam's heart in the process, Rachel's proud independence and loud declarations of her newly single lifestyle with Mercedes, the brunette appeared like a blip on Quinn's radar. Which had to be broken or something. Rachel didn't belong on it, with her pleasant smile and amazing voice and ability to truly care about those who hurt her repeatedly...
Quinn didn't know what to do. For once, she, as a usually quick-thinker and devious strategist, wasn't able to find a solution to a seemingly solvable problem.
It wasn't like her feelings had evolved from nowhere, but, she didn't want to believe they were real unless confronted about them. She couldn't be more confused.
How do you approach an enemy-acquaintance-friend (?) about your weird, new, extreme attraction to them? A text? A note? A voicemail? A message in the sky?
Her forehead bashed against the piano keys again and again, and when the blonde went to repeat the action a fifth time, the door opened.
"Quinn?"
Quinn sat up, frowning at her failure to smash the idiocy out of her head and turned to find Finn Hudson, looking confused. Well, that was something normal. Finally. Finn and her, surprisingly, hadn't jumped headlong into a renewed relationship after their not-so-secret liaisons were exposed. The blonde didn't know, but the urge to be with her ex-boyfriend just seemed to evaporate. Maybe it was the natural human tendency to want what you didn't have, but they'd simply become friends, sort of. It was odd.
"Hi, Finn."
"What...what are you doing? That's not how you play the piano, you know."
"Trying to fix my brain," she answered simply. "It's messed up."
"That doesn't make sense," Finn pointed out. "You'd be making it worse."
"Would I?"
"I...don't get it," the quarterback admitted, puzzled. "Can you say it differently?"
"Will you promise not to freak out if I do?" Quinn asked carefully. "It might make you angry."
"Shoot," Finn insisted. "I know we were off last year and the start of school and weird and then...that for awhile, but...I'm a good listener. To you, at least. Try me."
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, deciding to just bite the bullet, and blurted out: "I have romantic feelings for Rachel."
When the blonde opened her eyes, guessing a terrible, chair-kicking reaction of anger and frustration, her ex-boyfriend only looked slightly unimpressed.
"Oh. That's it? I thought you were pregnant again or something—OW!"
Finn rubbed his shoulder where Quinn'd punched him, sending a patented, puppy-dog stare of absolute hurt in her direction, and she sighed, defeated.
"Sorry."
"You don't have to hit me," the boy complained in a grumble. "I just thought it was something really bad."
"'Really bad'?" Quinn screeched as Finn blanched. "'Really bad'? This is really bad, Finn! I can't have this stupid attraction to Rachel freaking Berry! It's just...not right!"
"Her middle name is Barbra," Finn shot back, eyebrows furrowing together. "I think...or was it Patty Berna-something?"
"This is hopeless," Quinn muttered. "I'm so crazy."
"Well, you're always crazy," Finn offered. "You get all yelly and upset at the drop of a hat. That's like...a lot of dropped hats, but maybe that means you're perfect for her."
"Huh?"
"Maybe Rachel needs somebody as crazy as her," Finn mused. "Or chill, like you are sometimes. You could do both—be crazy when she's not and chill when she is."
For once, Finn's logic seemed to make sense and the jock actually knew what he was talking about.
"So, to balance it? I'd balance her out, is what you mean?" Quinn questioned, befuddled.
"Yes!" Finn exclaimed. "Exactly. You'd be hot when she's cold, loud when she's quiet...red when she's...blue?"
"I get it," the blonde remarked dryly, waving him off. "Opposites."
"Like magnets," Finn nodded. "You'll to do the impossible, like Puck, me, and Jesse couldn't—keep up with Rachel. I didn't listen, Puck didn't care, and Jesse lied to her."
"So did you," Quinn pointed out tentatively. "Several times."
Finn waved his hand, dismissive. "We aren't together anymore, so, I don't count like Puck or Jesse. I think me and her better as friends, but she might like them again."
"Not if I have my say in—I mean, whatever," Quinn covered hurriedly, but Finn had heard quite enough and adopted that wide smirk he wore when he knew he was right.
"You like Rachel a lot," Finn teased. "You forgot that Puck is totally obsessed with Lauren and Jesse's in California and Rachel wants him to be eaten by a lion."
"I can't believe that," Quinn exclaimed mutinously. "You tricked me. Where's the sense of normality anymore?"
"Down the drain with Puck's brain," Finn shrugged. "Lauren doesn't even like him, you know."
"I heard she's planning to dump him publicly," Quinn offered. "Her rep skyrockets into the nirvana for badasses and his...well, joins his brain in the drain."
"Brain in the drain," Finn chuckled. "We both rhymed. If school doesn't work out, we should be poets. Our names even rhyme! How cool is that?"
Quinn smiled slightly, bumping shoulders with her simple companion, as Finn grinned.
They sat in peaceful, untroubled silence, when Finn suddenly clapped his hands together, and jumped to his feet, dragging over Mr. Schue's whiteboard in front of the piano.
His messy scrawl—(she still vividly remembered his excited scratch of 'Drizzle')—upon finishing and allowing Quinn to see, revealed: Finn Saves The Day: The Quinchel Date.
"'Quinchel'?" Quinn wrinkled her nose. "That sounds way too much like you guys. Throws off the vibes."
"I'll fix it," Finn agreed, but promptly hitched an eager grin on his face, dimples showing noticeably. "I'm going to help you, Quinn. Getting Rachel will be as easy as—"
"—getting Brittany to bend down and help you 'find' something on the floor," Quinn interrupted with a little laugh. Finn sniggered.
"I did that, once..." Finn admitted bashfully. "It was great, because Brittany's hot, before Santana kicked me...anyway, I have the perfect plan for your date with Rachel."
"Date?" Quinn squeaked in a panic until she was able to calm down again. "Right. Date. I can do this. I can do this. I can ask her...no sweat. No problem, no sir."
"You can do this," Finn urged. "I'll walk you through it. Don't worry, Quinn. I know exactly what you can do."
"Rachel?"
"Quinn," Rachel greeted evenly, placing a few textbooks in her locker. "How may I help you today?"
"Can you listen to something entirely frightening for me and promise not to laugh at me if you find the idea completely stupid and ridiculous?" Quinn queried in one breath.
"Sure?"
"Will-you-go-out-to-Breadstix-with-me?"
"I'm very sorry, I didn't hear you," Rachel apologized, seeing Quinn's mortified, distressed expression. "I won't laugh, Quinn. I swear."
"I was just...wondering," Quinn floundered awkwardly, her face beginning to burn, "if you'd go to Breadstix with me. I-I know it's totally lame and terrible because hey, I've been a jerk and bitch to you for God knows how long but I can't help but like you for no reaso—not no reason! You're awesome anyway and I'm just rambling like a loser and making myself look like an idiot," the blonde concluded quickly, unable to stop the word vomit, "I'm off to go die of embarrassment and I won't bother y—bye, Rachel."
"Quinn, stop," Rachel ordered, catching Quinn's arm and forcing her to remain in place. "Let me get this straight. You want to go on a date, with me?"
"Not if you don't want to," Quinn answered hurriedly. "If not we can just pretend this awful, embarrassing scene never happened and stay...chill."
"Okay," Rachel smiled, hand sliding lower to hold Quinn's in her own, "let's do it."
Quinn's eyes widened automatically and Rachel blushed profusely.
"Not that! I didn't mean that—well, not yet—wait! I'm rambling now. Right. You can pick me up at eight," the brunette stammered. "Excuse me, I need to go...study?"
Quinn watched Rachel scurry down the hallway and wondered how exactly she'd managed to make the normally Composure Queen, Rachel Berry, nervous.
Finn sidled to Quinn's side from his hiding spot, still wearing that exasperating smirk of triumph.
"That went well," the jock commented, teasing. "You made her scared. That never happens."
"Maybe it's my angelic good looks," Quinn suggested. "I was the president of the Celibacy Club."
"True, but then you and Puck—"
"Finn, come on! Don't ruin my good mood!" Quinn interrupted impatiently. "She said yes, didn't she?"
"That was the easy part," Finn insisted. "You barely did anything, and you haven't been out of school with Rachel alone before. Rachel at school is like, level two in COD."
"What is she out of school?"
"Level seventy," Finn answered seriously. "And no, I'm not joking. I have to teach you the ways to dealing with Rachel."
"Like what?" Quinn asked. "I can't be like you and not listen to her. I actually want to hear what she has to say."
"Right," Finn nodded. "Okay, well...we need to plan more."
Quinn knocked on the front door, swallowing her anxiety and managing a polite smile at the sight of the shorter in height Mr. Berry.
"Quinn, right?"
"Nice to meet you," Quinn replied, nervous. "I like your, um..."
"Sweater!" Finn hissed loudly in her ear, the earpiece crackling with static. Quinn winced.
"I love your sweater, Mr. Berry," the blonde offered, immediately feeling stupid. To Finn's rare wisdom and pure luck, Hiram beamed in response, delighted.
"Thank you! Rachel and I share an affinity for them," the man declared, gesturing to his unsightly striped and checkered combo sweater. "They're so stylish, aren't they?"
"Rachel looks good in them," Quinn remarked without thinking. Finn snickered as Hiram's smile grew wider.
"Smooth. Ah, here's my husband, Leroy."
"Hello, Quinn," Leroy Berry addressed, appearing from the kitchen. "Rachel's told us quite a bit about you."
"Leroy," Hiram warned.
"Oh, right," Quinn squeaked, seeing coldness in Leroy's stance. "I know—I used to be a huge bitch to Rachel, since like, forever, and I'm really sorry for it. I guess I was just...jealous of her dream. She knows she'll be okay and the rest of us aren't sure, and that's why we're so—they're so mean to her. I don't want to be anymore. I...need to practice my apologies more often," the blonde admitted, blushing. "I don't sound sincere but I am, sir. I don't want to hurt Rachel, ever again. I just can't. I won't."
"Why?" Leroy questioned when Hiram sighed, looking sympathetic. "She's offered you friendship before. What's so different now? And tonight's date, as well?"
"She's too pretty to be upset," Quinn smiled, slightly apologetically. "I think she's looks the best when she smiles. And I want to make her smile instead of cry."
"It's like a soap opera," Leroy commented dryly. "I'll let this go, Ms. Fabray, but I'll be watching you," he cautioned, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Circle of trust?" The blonde volunteered, and heard Hiram snicker in amusement.
"Good one," Finn laughed. "You're doing great, Quinn! They like you more than me!"
"Exactly," Leroy agreed, but a smile fought to be seen on his features. "Circle of trust—if you're in, you're in. If you make one mistake, you're out."
"Daddy," Rachel remarked, making the three of them jump. "Stop harassing her!"
"It's my job," Leroy insisted. "I wouldn't be your father if I didn't."
"Compliment her outfit," Finn suggested, sounding like he was chewing a mouthful of chips. "But be cool about it! Don't make yourself look like a sex predator."
"You look great, Rachel," Quinn smiled sincerely, and Rachel blushed.
"Thanks."
"Have fun," Hiram trilled, practically shoving them both out the door. "Be safe!"
"He said the same thing to me," Finn mused. "Except he looked really mad when he did it. Good thing you aren't a dude!"
"Here," Quinn offered, ignoring the comments from her earpiece, and held out a daisy for Rachel take. Rachel beamed, pinning it beside her left ear.
"Thank you, Quinn! You're so thoughtful! No one's ever gotten me flowers!"
"Flowers are expensive," Finn grumbled. "I had to buy lunch, gas for Kurt's car, some gum, a new football, a yo-yo—"
Quinn held car door open for Rachel, who, if possible, beamed wider and sat down regally, as Quinn shut the door and walked to the driver's side, congratulating herself.
"I must say, I'm very excited about this—however unexpected—date with you," Rachel remarked promptly when Quinn had sat down and started to drive.
Quinn managed a smile. "Me too."
"Quinn, just so you know," Finn warned, "this walkie-talkie has some problems. You might catch what I hear in pieces or minutes later. It's kinda broken."
"Okay," Quinn acknowledged accidentally, and silently cursed.
"Did you say something?" Rachel asked absently, busy playing with the radio to find a song she liked.
"No, I...coughed," Quinn lied. "Sorry."
This might be harder than I thought, the blonde reflected worriedly.
Rachel had started a conversation about glee club—what else?—on the way to Breadstix, and it had continued until the waitress had brought their food.
"I mean, Mr. Schuester is terribly biased," Rachel was saying with a frown. "He lets Santana get away with everything."
"It isn't fair," Quinn agreed. "Ms. Pillsbury is totally messing with his head. Carl's way better for her, too."
"Hey, Mr. Schue isn't all bad—" Finn protested.
"—but he isn't all that bad," Quinn interrupted Rachel, unwittingly changing her opinion and tried to cover. "He's good at...getting us to work together when it counts?"
"Sometimes," Rachel acquiesced grudgingly. "The moments in between, though, he's rude."
"Especially to you," Quinn nodded.
A sudden roar in Quinn's ear made her cut into another Rachel monologue when Finn shouted: "Stupid Nazi's! What the hell?"
"Stupid Nazi's!" Quinn blurted out as Rachel closed her mouth, surprised, and Quinn's face turned pink in mortfication.
"I...I just thought of a time, randomly, when I was playing..."
"Sorry, Quinn," Finn apologized. "I was playing Call of Duty."
"...playing Call of Duty with Puck," Quinn continued, embarrassed, "and the English were fighting the Germans, and...it made me, uh, think of how Hitler killed those Jewish people and...how unfair! How unfair it was! The Jewish people in the Holocaust shouldn't have died and I thought that people like you, Rachel, shouldn't, um...been hurt?"
Finn's loud snort of disbelief made Quinn start but Rachel simply stared until her face unexpectedly broke into an admiring smile.
"You really believe that, Quinn?" Rachel gushed.
"Yes," Quinn nodded quickly, thinking fast. "Jewish people are...awesome. Right. And World War II was awful for...them. Uh huh. Jews are always persecuted, I've noticed."
"We are," Rachel nodded eagerly, setting down her silverware. "History displays the Jewish as ostracized pariahs who are picked on for not believing in a more popular faith, Christianity. I don't begrudge you for that, I compliment your acceptance of Judaism and indignation to history's mistakes! Quinn, I didn't know you were so philosophical!"
"Wow, Quinn," Finn mocked. "You're so deep!"
''I've just been reading a lot lately," Quinn offered with a 'bashful' shrug. "I guess it's been rubbing off on me."
"Finally, someone with the ability to keep up with me," Rachel declared—unknowingly hitting the nail right on the head—impressed. "You're full of surprises, Quinn Fabray!"
"She's mean," Finn complained petulantly. "I'm helping you and she's insulting me. She just talks a lot, okay!"
"You'll just have to wait and see," Quinn grinned, and Rachel laughed.
"Say something nice," Finn suggested. "Mention...her hair! She spends, like, an hour doing it every day."
Upon leaving the restaurant and conversation behind, Quinn couldn't find her groove, yet again. In her troubles articulating her thoughts, Finn had given several suggestions to get her by. It wasn't she didn't think of Rachel of beautiful—of course she was, extremely so, at least in Quinn's admiring opinion—but Quinn, in the practice of repeatedly insulting the brunette, couldn't string two complimentary words together aloud without Finn's simple proposals. She could get into the habit, once letting the words leave her lips, but actually starting, offering them without a backhanded insult was a stupidly irritating pattern to break. She silently fumed, angry with herself.
It was annoying, to rely on her ex-boyfriend and quick tips for a date with his ex-girlfriend, but Quinn needed the assistance. Desperately.
"Your hair looks nice," Quinn said, sincerely, as they were on the next part of their date—a nighttime walk in Lima's only park.
"Thank you," Rachel smiled, tucking a stray tress behind her ear, absentmindedly. "It takes a lot of effort."
Rachel's left hand found Quinn's right again, and she couldn't help but sigh a little in relief. At least she was doing something right.
"What songs are you writing for Regionals?" Quinn asked curiously, and Rachel looked contemplative.
"Something to describe my stress during my high school career. A revenge composition, so to speak."
"On that note," Quinn interjected, taking Rachel's other hand and making them stop, "I'll apologize completely to you when I've planned it all out."
"Like a speech?" Rachel quipped, smiling a little.
"Yes," Quinn answered. "I want to really explain myself and apologize without stuttering like a moron..."
"Or blushing," Finn agreed.
"...or blushing," Quinn added. "I'm not normally like that. Unsettled, I mean."
"Maybe I make you nervous," Rachel suggested teasingly. "Do I?"
"Today, you did," Quinn admitted, reddening. "At your locker, at Breadstix, now..."
"I'll guess I've always made you nervous," Rachel mused. "I overheard you and my fathers. I didn't know you were so sweet, Quinn."
"Hey, where's my credit?" Finn grumbled.
"Thanks, Rachel," the blonde smiled, and tugged her smitten date along, as they continued on their way.
"I thought we could see a movie," Quinn offered tentatively, when the theater was in viewing distance. Rachel paused.
"What would we see?"
"Battle: Los Angeles," Finn hissed, sounding eager. "I Am Number Four...Ooh! I dare you to see Black Swan, Quinn. Do it. Do it. Do it! DO IT! For the love of—"
"Your choice," Quinn winced, rubbing her ear. "Whatever you want."
"No one ever let me pick the movie," Rachel gasped, hand placed over her heart. "Quinn, you're so chivalrous! I'm shocked to see this side of you!"
"I really wanted to see Inception, okay?" Finn muttered. "No way was I going to see some chick-flick. But score for you!"
"It's no big deal," Quinn shrugged modestly. "Go on, pick one, Rach."
The endearment slipped out before she could stop it but only made Rachel glow appreciatively, and skip to get tickets ("My turn to pay, Ms. Fabray!") without further ado.
Quinn waited patiently until Rachel returned, and the blonde glanced at the ticket stub, and internally squirmed.
"Black Swan?" She repeated, and heard Finn start roaring with laughter, as she blanched at the high, uneasy hitch in her voice. "Why d'you, uh, why d'you pick that one?"
"Apparently it's a fabulous film with terrific direction," Rachel declared, eyes shining in excitement. "I heard Natalie Portman received an Oscar for it."
"Right," Quinn squeaked. "Let's go."
"What a great idea," Finn remarked in Quinn's ear, dreamy. "Say something like, 'good idea, Rachel'. It was a great idea. Mila Kunis...whoa."
"Uh, nice...choice," Quinn mumbled. "It, um, deserved every award, I think."
"I agree," Rachel nodded, looking equally dreamy as Finn sounded. "Both the leads, actually, were—"
"—hot—" Finn cheered. "And I sort of got to go to the movies with you guys!"
"—exceptional actresses, and whoa, that scene," Rachel commented, as Quinn successfully kept from laughing at Rachel's fervent expression.
"Well, well," a sneer interrupted, as Brittany and Santana appeared, laden with popcorn, the former smiling and the latter smirking. "It's Maureen and Joanne."
"Santana, it's an honor to hear that you think I'd be able to act as Maureen," Rachel exclaimed, delighted. "Thank you. This day just keeps getting better and better!"
Santana looked disgruntled as Quinn tried valiantly to keep a straight face. Brittany was peering intently at a seven year old boy across the theater with his family.
"Look, San! Wes Brody is here," the taller blonde proclaimed, waving. Wes Brody blushed and waved happily until his mother dragged him into their theater.
"Britt, he's seven, that's wrong," Santana remarked. "And he isn't your boyfriend anymore, remember?"
"Oh, that's right," Brittany nodded agreeably. "I can't have a boyfriend who's that young anyway and you're my girlfriend now!"
"Exactly, now...where was—HEY!"
Santana glared at the escaping forms of a jogging Rachel and Quinn, holding hands and giggling until they were no longer in view. Brittany laughed.
"San, they're so happy! It's cute."
"I wanted to mock them," the Latina grumbled.
"You have glee club to do that," Brittany consoled. "And you can probably tell the whole school that they're on a date!"
"I don't know why anyone says you're stupid, Britt," Santana grinned, planting a kiss on Brittany's cheek and opening her phone. "You have the best ideas."
Brittany clapped. "Now I can tell you my idea about letting Charity join glee!"
Santana grimaced. "Okay. Go ahead."
"Don't kiss her at the door," Finn advised. "She thinks it's cliq—chick'ed...cliche! That's the word, I think. She says kissing on the first date is cliche. Don't do it."
Quinn hid her pout—come on, had Finn seen Rachel's lips lately?—but decided she had no choice but to agree and walked Rachel to her door, hands still interlocked.
"Finn, what are you doing?"
"Nothing!" Finn squeaked, sounding as if he was hiding his headset from what sounded suspiciously like Kurt and Blaine.
"Quinn," her ex's anxious voice cut in, urgent, "abort mission! Abort mission! ABORT! Ow, oof—Kurt took my headset! Quinn!"
"Abort!" Quinn blurted out stupidly, interrupting Rachel again as she spoke of her original song ideas. Rachel frowned as they sat on the steps, looking upset.
"Abort what?"
"Your idea," Quinn asserted wildly. "The last one."
"The one about my headband?" Rachel asked sulkily. "Finn didn't like it, either. Why can't I sing about it? U2 sang about putting on boots! My headband is—"
"—a dumb idea, I told her that," Finn grumbled. "She shouldn't sing about a headband. What's the point?"
"She's being creative, Finn," Kurt argued.
"Quinn, just state your opinion," Blaine urged. "She values honesty, right?"
"I just think that singing about your headband won't win us Regionals," Quinn told her quietly. "I don't think it applies to everyone. It's...uh, a small range of girls."
"Quinn, that makes perfect sense," Rachel gasped, impressed. "Why didn't I see it? Music must reach everyone, not just me or the group of girls who wear headbands!"
"Um, hello?" Finn exclaimed. "Where's my praise?"
"Shh," Kurt barked. "I'm trying to hear!"
"I didn't even look at it like that," the brunette continued. "Quinn, you're a genius."
"Thanks," Quinn smiled, feeling far from humble at the moment. "Just a thought. I know you'll write something great in the end."
"Quinn," Rachel addressed, glancing at her watch, "I should get inside. My curfew's in a few minutes. I've had a wonderful time, though."
"Okay," the blonde acquiesced, squeezing Rachel's hand once as she went to go to her car, but Rachel's grip didn't lessen.
"Where are you going?"
"To my car?"
"Why?"
"I thought you didn't like to kiss on the first date," Quinn replied without thinking. Shit.
"Where did you hear that?" Rachel asked, confused.
"Quinn!" Finn shouted. "You idiot!"
"You're done for!" Kurt scolded. "Nice going!"
"It was a good try," Blaine consoled bracingly.
"Uh—"
"Did Finn tell you that?" Rachel demanded.
"No, I—"
"Is this a joke? Did you bring me on the best date of my life to set me up for a prank?" Rachel choked, tears brewing in her eyes. "Did you, Quinn?"
"Idiot, even I'm not that stupid," Finn muttered.
"No!" Quinn insisted. "I just...damn it. Let me get this out, okay?"
Rachel nodded stiffly, withdrawing further, arms crossed over her chest. They stood up, Rachel on the stone stairs and Quinn on the walkway, as the blonde looked sad.
"I really like you, a lot," Quinn admitted, cursing her idiocy, "and I didn't know what to do about it. So Finn helped me."
"'Helped' you?" Rachel repeated. "How?"
Quinn silently swore—just her luck, and yeah, it was a really, really awesome date—and handed Rachel the earpiece, ashamed.
"Finn's been helping you all night?" Rachel inquired quietly, turning the device around in her fingers, expressionless.
"He helped me plan it out," Quinn answered. "I picked the places to go, but Finn helped me say stuff...to you."
"Why?"
Quinn scuffed her shoe on the ground, distressed. "He always has something sweet to say, you know? He can just, say it, whenever he wants and I had trouble—have trouble—getting what I want to say out. I always used to insult you, so much so that it's second nature, and I thought I'd combine the two; Finn gave me something to say because I couldn't express how I felt about you without sounding rude or stupid. I couldn't say what I liked about you and Finn could, so he just...whispered it in my ear."
Rachel stared at her. Quinn, panicking, tried to fill the silence.
"If I could, eloquently, I'd go on about your eyes, and your smile, and how you've always helped and liked everyone who's terrible to you, and your voice, God—"
"Quinn..."
"—and I know, using Finn was a bad idea, because maybe you'll interpret it as his renewed feelings for you and Finchel coming back, which sucks—"
"No!" Finn insisted. "We're only friends! Jeez!"
"Don't interrupt her," Blaine advised urgently. "She's on a roll, and it's a good thing."
"Quinn."
"—and whoa, Finchel would be the power couple again," Quinn continued bitterly. "But, Rachel, I had a great time and honestly, some of the things I said were me only—"
"Quinn!" Rachel yelled. "Stop talking!"
"Okay," the ex-cheerleader mumbled. "I'm just...gonna leave, now. Sorry about...this," she gestured aimlessly to herself and the brunette, "and sorry I hurt your feelings."
"Quinn, hold on," Rachel laughed as Quinn's eyes widened in disbelief—what the heck? Wasn't Rachel mad?—and pulled her closer, so Quinn could see Rachel up close.
"I'm not angry at you," Rachel promised, placing the earpiece carefully in Quinn's jacket, where Finn's loud apologies could be heard, "really, I'm not."
"Why?" Quinn asked helplessly. "I lied to you, asked Finn for advice on you, and I—"
"No one's ever put so much effort into a date for me," Rachel interrupted, her smile wide and teeth glinting in the dim lighting. "It's adorable how much you tried, Quinn."
"Oh," Quinn mumbled. "Thanks?"
Before Quinn could react further, Rachel leaned down from her spot on the stairs and kissed her firmly before pulling away as Quinn blinked, dazed.
Fireworks, Quinn mused. More like an atomic bomb. Damn.
"I had a great time, Quinn, I assure you," Rachel told her. "I'd like to go out with you again sometime."
"Okay."
"I'd also like to leave boys out of it."
"Okay."
"And I'd appreciate more articulate responses; you aren't like Finn in terms of competent vernacular."
"O—that sounds good."
"It's a start," Rachel remarked, smiling. "Goodnight, Quinn. I'll see you tomorrow with a new locker calendar and a few...requests."
"Calendar?" Quinn repeated, bewildered. Rachel ignored her, pressing another kiss to the blonde's lips and disappearing inside with a merry wave and the slam of the door.
Quinn remained standing for another minute until she blinked, deliriously happy but totally confused, and walked to her car, fishing her earpiece out of her jacket.
"—still there? Did the mission fail?" Finn was yelling. "Quinn, can you hear me?"
"Finn? I'm here, stop yelling already!"
"Oh. So, how did it go?"
"Give us the details, Fabray!" Kurt ordered.
"I just need to know, what's a locker calendar?" Quinn inquired slowly, missing the keyhole completely as she recalled Rachel's smile. "She told me she'll get me one."
Finn groaned, but managed a laugh. "It means she wants to plan dates with you. It'll probably be of you guys Photoshopped on a calendar as cats or something."
"So...does this mean I did it?"
"Yes," Finn cheered. "You did. Rachel and calendars means she's interested in future dates. That's a touchdown. Yay, Quinn!"
"Sweet," Quinn smiled, buckling her seatbelt.
"Congratulations, Quinn," Blaine said kindly.
"And Quinn?" Finn asked, as the blonde began her trek to the Hudson/Hummel house, still grinning widely like an idiot.
"Yeah?"
"You so owe me," the quarterback proclaimed smugly. "And I'll be collecting soon enough."
"Moron," Quinn replied, affectionate. "I'll see you in a few minutes. Thanks a lot, Finn, by the way."
"No problem."
Still blissfully happy with her date, Quinn willingly drove to Kurt and Finn's house, prepared for the onslaught of interrogation and Finn's apparent list of demands.
It was worth it.
Thanks for reading! I hope I made someone's day and/or smile! That'd be awesome, right?