A/N: This is my first Faberry fanfic, about Rachel identifying her sexuality and digging through Quinn to let her say the truth about her sexuality, because she's using Sam as a cover up of her lesbian sexuality so she can capture her rightful position as Prom Queen, and has some Brittana in it as well :)
Pairings:
Faberry(Quinn+Rachel)
Fabrevans(Quinn+Sam)
Brittana(Brittany+Santana)
Finchel(Finn+Rachel)
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters.
And I'm on my way to believing
~The Only Exception, Paramore
I want to be prettier, thinner like that Quinn girl.
Rachel sighed as she sat in desolation as she was sitting in the mahogany chair, dejectedly thinking about the feelings and the connection Quinn and Sam had whenever they were near each other in public affection; she yearned for the love she lacked in her relationship, and the dawn of the realization was rather in darkness than radiance; Quinn had those photogenic looks, the beautiful strands of blonde hair that billowed in the gentle breeze, those winsome coaxingly hazel eyes, that flawless creamy vanilla skin and thick black eyeliner that made her look ravishing compared to the other Cheerios and her best friends, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, and it was intimidating lurking near her presence or even talking to her without all the student body watching her.
She had that sex appeal every girl envied and boy lusted for, partially dedicated to her residence in the Cheerios table, where the beautiful and the dangerous were confided with their equally popular male equivalent, and hers was someone with three percent body fat, luscious lips and flawless, glorious abs that had a dorky demeanor and was perfectly in sync with Quinn according with popularity, fashion, appeal to the study body, and respect that meant that they wouldn't be slushied by their counterpart Cheerio sisters and their barbarous, obnoxious counterpart Titan brothers, in which the little, loud-mouthed Jew had the opposite: she had the sex appeal of an endearing giraffe, her clique residential area was on the ''island of misfits and outcasts'', her boyfriend was a six-foot geek charming, they both synchronized in bizarre ways, and every day she was coated in a flavored saccharine slushie that would drip all over her bleached white socks and plaid skirt and polished brown schoolgirl, in which they would laugh and sneer in the horrid entertainment of seeing someone on the bottom of the high school food chain like Berry taste the bitter taste of humiliation dripping in her mouth.
So it resulted in her trying to gag all the disgusting vomit out of her, only to miserably fail and taste something even more disgusting than vomit: pain and self dissatisfaction. The guidance councilor, Miss Pillsbury, found her forcing herself to vomit, and mistakenly thought that this was bulimia. As if; it was more of an attempt to lose weight, to be more appealing to that Quinn girl and feel what it's like being… loved and wanted, instead of having to feel as if she isn't sexy, cute and youthful as she used to be.
''Mm-hm. And um, why is that?'' Miss Pillsbury asked, drumming her fingernails.
Rachel cleared her throat to analyse and tries to explain in a non elaborate of why she wanted to be Quinn's girl. ''Have you ever liked someone so much you wanna lock yourself in a room, turn on sad music and cry?''
She saw the bland expression on Miss Pillsbury's face and felt hope slip away, and saw Miss Pillsbury's eyes flicker outside the room and at Mr Schue, ignoring and waiting for her response.
''I see. Um-okay. Well, here's what I think. Common interests are the key to romance. All right? So find out what he likes. Then he'll see you in a positive way and maybe you'll end up doing something that you never would have expected.'' Hope rushes through Rachel's circularity system and nods, smiling hopefully and leaving the room. Common interests are the key to romance, common interests are the key to romance, common interests are the key to romance.
Status is like currency.
Quinn was pleased to be part of such an exclusive set of malicious girls, because it prevented others from getting close enough to hear what they're talking about. Huddled together, the Cheerios were the top girls that discussed the principal conversation topics, such as sex in the Cheerios gossip, boys, parties, dates, everything to the last detail that represented them, including the most private elite of them all: the Unholy Trinity, which consisted mainly of the three most talked, most adorned and most popular girls in McKinley High: Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, and the beautiful nightmare of them all, Quinn Fabray. The blonde inherited the table from her older sister Frannie, who coincidentally was leader of a three-strong trinity clique named the Holy Trinity, in which they carved a three-point triangle with each Holy Trinity member's initial, so they updated with their one initials. It ensured that no lesser(which they call the unpopular students) would sit with them in error and it help avoid the stress of rushing to reserve the best spot, and it separated them from all the other Cheerios and jocks, since all were three dear best friends in a platonic way.
Beside her was her boyfriend Sam, in which she carved herself a special initial for(he was her male equivalent) which she had been given a beautiful, gorgeous purity ring, and it signified love and mutual respect and care for each other in the very least of situations, and she loved him dearly so: he was tall and broad, he was always tanned because his parents' divorce qualified him for twice as many foreign holidays as other people and his fair hair was bleached from the sun, and his athletic build was offset to soft blonde hair that curled around his ears, and serious brown eyes; eyes that she wanted to drown in, right from the moment they'd sing that lovely lullaby in Glee club a few weeks ago to make it official that they were dating. He was aesthetically pretty perfect(pretty and perfect). He was quieter and more youthful than Finn, her ex, but he's sweeter too.
''Hey, Quinn,'' he said in such a strangely attractive way, even though it was meant to be said in a friendly tone. ''Wanna go Color Me Mine?''
Quinn rolled her eyes; although Sam was pretty perfect, he had such that dorky, childish demeanor, perhaps inherited from his Southern American ways, and a teddy fetish. ''No, I'd rather go to Breadstix, with Santana and Brittany, than be around some childish weirdos.''
''I love teddies,'' Brittany blurted out of the blue, and Quinn huffed. She knew that the blonde didn't have the critical intelligence of most normal people, but she was deciphering of why she had recruited the bony slim girl in the first place. Probably because Santana's got these ''feelings'' for her.
Sam noticed that Quinn was picking at her fruit salad and frowned. ''Why aren't you eating you eating your food, Q?''
Quinn shook her blonde locks and sighed of his lack of information about popularity. Girls are more different-more self aware, more crippled by self-loathing, and the Cheerios are inane and immune to that, frankly because of their alluring, natural looks and foxy tone and sexual appeal that other girls on campus didn't inherit, and they had their own symbol, trademarked and never cheapened in compromise. Ever. And keeping a thin yet captivating and curvy figure is something every Cheerio must follow, it's a passage of fate ever since the school has been built up.
''Ooo, someone's smittening someone,'' Brittany giggled with Santana, glancing over the sea of equals, Quinn curious about what was so entertaining; as Head Cheerio and future potential Prom Queen, she wanted to be involved in principal conversation topics as well as generate the gossip, and as Prom Queen she needed to be in general with all the latest details from every single Cheerio, as they were her minions(they'd show ultimate respect) and she was the reigning Queen from generations of years from the Fabray tradition, and it was not to be broken this year.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. ''What are you talking about?'' she mumbled.
''Berry's checking you out,'' Santana frittered, and Quinn was enraged with flames as her hazel eyes set upon the girl that is Rachel Berry. To Quinn, she was that fly that ruined the perfection of her immaculate window glass which represented her life, and thanks to that, she's lost Finn, been slut-shamed around school, and now, her mother doesn't even acknowledge her; the only thing she notices is if you're shaped like a bottle of vodka or drugs, which left her to an addiction of drugs and alcohol intoxication, and Quinn's been depressed ever since. That's when Sam came along, she retraced the steps and promised never to fall down from grace again, and Rachel was a danger hazard and obstacle that Quinn vowed to cross over and move on.
Santana sees Quinn's face and must've mistakenly thought that Quinn was blushing. ''Look, Britt, Q's in lurrve!''
Quinn desperately wanted to seriously punch Santana in the face, but she didn't want to ruin her good girl image, so she had to sit and fairly be so rational instead of freaking out, similar to her mood swings during her crazy, mental breakdown. ''I'm not in love with Man Hands.''
''Yes you are, Quinn,'' Brittany agreed. ''You're all red and stuff.''
''Which means that you are in love, lesbo,'' Santana snickered nastily, making Quinn feel broken inside.
''Leave her alone,'' Sam defended, but he seemed to have the same opinion as Santana, which made Quinn irritated in frustration that her boyfriend couldn't even damn defend her, so she left, pushing her tray and flouncing off to the bathroom, dropping her heavy customized Cheerio bag of cosmetics and mirrors and beauty supplies, getting some eye-shadow and applying it on her face, perplexed of how she could actually love someone that's such a purist, conceited and egotistical as Rachel Barbara Berry, the school's Broadway freak, along with Kurt and rumour-has-it-his-perfect-handsome Warbler boy toy that he hangs around with except with Mercedes.
And then she stared at the mirror, disconsolate and lost.
Good girl image.
She's been raised to that manner ever since she first got christened, and ever since then her father's been pressuring her to like these listless, colorless father-approved boys from the church, from ones who weirdly stuff their shirts into their pants like senile men to ones who have dental appointments to fix their askew teeth and come out with horrible dentures, in which it messes up a makeout session if her lipgloss get in… the thought of it made her shiver in disgust.
Her sister Fanny didn't have that problem; she was gorgeous and beautiful, and Quinn was doubting the thought of ever becoming Prom Queen, as she was a miniature Frannie and knew that Frannie died during the election in an eerie mystery that had haunted her for her days, and the thought of dressing in Frannie's timeless blue gauzy layered dress and her hair styled elegantly in her sister's prom queen hairstyle, arm in arm with her man, was just spitting on Frannie's legacy. Besides, wasn't she already breaking the tradition by dating someone who wasn't in the Hudson family? That's why her mother Judy had planned them both to be together, only to revive on what happened to her adored, debonair daughter Frannie Fabray, that's why he was her pre-planned ''inamorata'' during the Chastity Ball when she was staring freshman year? And now she was breaking the Fabray heritage by dating Sam, and her mother warned her that not dating Hudson could cause a series of problems, and bizarrely, her mother had spoken the truth.
''Fanny, can you hear me?'' Quinn spoke softly, praying that no-one was in the cubicles.
All she heard was the sound of sneakers and eager students rushing to lunch, until she heard the nasally, vibrant voice that Frannie had inherited from their mother when she was younger, and spoke: Quinn, be very careful; something's going to happen, I can sense that someone is going to destroy your chances and ruin the Fabray tradition.
''How can I stop it?'' Quinn replied, seeking advice, but the voice was gone, and so was her hope. She left the girls' loos, grinning to her fellow students, but Frannie's voice was echoing inside her mind, which gave her a sense of pressure and dismay taking residence in her throat that told her that Frannie's advice was foretelling the horror of events.