there's only us, there's only this, a glee fanfic

Title: there's only us, there's only this

Author: stopthenrewind on FFnet, xjamey on LJ

Summary: It's just never gonna go away. Finn/Quinn. Based on spoilers for the Superbowl episode on Feb 6th, so you are warned.

Pairings/Characters: Finn/Quinn. Slight Sam/Quinn, Finn/Rachel, and Puck/Quinn.

Rating: T, to be safe

Author's Note: This is my take on the upcoming Superbowl episode, based on spoilers that have popped up, though slightly modified. Now, if you're not a spoilerwhore like me, I suggest you don't read this until after February 6th if you don't want to spoiled big time. Tried to make this as canon as possible. Feedback is very much appreciated, of course. :)

He's passing by Coach Sylvester's office when he hears her.

"I'm staying with the Cheerios."

"This means no more glee club, Q," Ms. Sylvester says, her voice dripping in disgust over the words 'glee club' like it always does. "I take it you're smart enough to know this."

"Yes, Coach." He hears her sigh, sounding like this is the hardest decision she's ever made. "I know."

He knows her too well to know that everything coming out of her mouth right now is a lie.

He just doesn't want to believe that she's quitting glee club for good. He likes having her there. He can't exactly explain it, but he's a lot happier in glee whenever she's around. Maybe he just misses her company sometimes.

(Or maybe he just really misses her.)

He stands directly in front of her as she's walking confidently down the corridor, hands on her hips, looking like she owns the world. He ignores her confused look as he looks down at her, taking in the Cheerios uniform and the self-important attitude that comes whenever she wears it.

(He hates how she just morphs into this girl in that uniform. She is not this girl.)

"So it's true," he says, hating the lump growing in his throat that he can't swallow.

She frowns, takes a step back. "What is?"

"You're quitting glee," he answers, "for the Cheerios."

Her shoulder lifts in an offhand shrug. "It's what I had to do."

He grabs her arm as she tries to walk away, the haughty tone in her voice annoying him. "Come on, Quinn. You know this isn't you. I know you."

She doesn't meet his eyes. "You did," she says, and her voice is all soft and quiet, much like the Quinn he knows, "but not anymore."

He looks at her, at that stunning face, those gorgeous eyes, and she finally lifts her eyes to his. Her bottom lip's trembling and her eyes look teary, and his heart throbs a little as he wishes, like he's done thousands of times before, that he doesn't have to hurt her.

(Even though she was the one who hurt him first.)

He gets pissed when Sam keeps going on and on about how proud he is of Quinn choosing the Cheerios, and when he tells him that it's not a good thing, or that she should've chosen glee, Sam just waves him off like it's not a big deal.

But it's when he says "Quinn deserves much better" is when Sam gets annoyed and pushes him against the lockers. He starts to insist that he's out of line, that he doesn't have a say in this, that it's not his damn business, his voice getting louder by the minute, and Finn just stares hard at him; even though he doesn't even try to fight back, Mr. Schue pops out of nowhere to pull them apart.

"Why do you even care, huh?" Sam says from behind Mr. Schue's restraining arm. "She's not even your girlfriend so stop trying to act like she is!"

Sam leaves then, pushing irately through the curious watching crowd. Mr. Schue looks at him, gives him a look that's clearly asking what's going on, but he ignores him, he ignores everyone. He just stands there, hearing Sam's angry voice reverberating in his ears, finding it difficult to accept that there's an inkling of truth to what he had said.

(Maybe, just maybe, it's because he still cares. A lot.)

Puck finds him shooting baskets in the gym later that day. He just stands in the sidelines, his hands shoved into his pockets, as he throws ball after ball towards the net. They keep bouncing off the rim, and in the three minutes Puck's been standing there, he only makes one basket.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "What are you doing here?"

Puck shrugs, his face unreadable. "I heard about what happened with you and Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to see if you were okay."

He looks curiously at Puck, just a fleeting look. "I'm fine."

Puck nods, looking like he knows he's lying. "Clearly, you are."

He glances sideways at Puck, kind of surprised that they're talking even, given they haven't really spoken since – well, since Quinn. It still feels kind of awkward, it still kind of stings, and he doesn't say a word in reply. Instead, he aims for the basket.

"This is about her," Puck says, "isn't it?"

The ball misses.

He doesn't look at Puck as he picks it up, wondering where to begin and what and how much he should tell him. He thinks of Rachel, and he thinks of Quinn, and he thinks of how much Puck had been so involved in fucking up his life. Even though they're still kind of mad at each other, it's during times like these when he would miss those stupid things Puck used to make them do, like throwing pee balloons at random people (mostly Kurt) or slashing Vocal Adrenaline's car tires, or hanging out in the graveyard for hours at night for reasons he doesn't even know.

"It's just–" he stops, tossing the ball in his hands, careful to avoid his friend's eyes, "it's Quinn – you know?"

Puck sighs, and he looks over at him. He sees a sort of understanding look in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he feels. "Yeah," Puck says, his voice quiet and heavy with emotion, "yeah, I know."

He watches from afar as Quinn is hoisted on top of the cheerleading pyramid, her eyes bright and happy, her blond ponytail bouncing as she bobs up and down and sings loudly and blissfully with the other Cheerios to California Girls.

He's never seen her look more beautiful, more in control, and at the back of his mind he can't help but think if Sam's been right all along.

From the top of the pyramid, her hands raised high, she suddenly glances in his direction, straight into his eyes, and her composure crumples, just a little.

He sees in the look in her eyes that everything about this Cheerios façade of hers is all an act, nothing but a well-portrayed lie.

Sam catches him alone in the choir room one day, where he starts apologizing for being such a jealous asshole.

Though a part of him agrees and is still stung, he waves Sam's apologies away with the tiniest of smiles. "Don't sweat it, man. It's in the past. I understand why you reacted like that." He looks down at his hands. "I was out of line, too."

Sam smiles a little, but then looks away, looking kind of uneasy. "You said before, that you don't have feelings for her anymore," he says quietly.

He pauses for a fraction of a second. "I don't."

He thinks he's telling the truth, so it's kind of weird, the way it comes out sounding like a lie.

Before Sam leaves, he pauses at the door, looks back at him, his expression – resigned? defeated? disappointed? – just vague and incomprehensible. "Quinn still cares about you, you know. I can see it, clear as day."

It kind of hurts, but he says it anyway: "But she loves you."

He finds her watching football practice from the sidelines. He sees her lift an eyebrow and beckons at him when he glances in her direction. He doesn't even care that they're right in the middle of practice, or that Karofsky's running headfirst to tackle him that very minute, or that Coach Beiste will probably give him an earful when he gets back. He jogs over to her, feeling conscious for being so sweaty and gross, but he pushes that out of his mind, offers her a tentative smile. "Hey."

Her eyebrow arches as she glances at Coach Beiste, who's busy blowing her whistle at Puck, Sam, and a couple of others who are doing laps at the other end of the field. "Aren't you going to get in trouble?"

He shakes his head, as if running spontaneously out of practice with the Beiste is no big deal. "So, what's up?"

It feels so awkward, having to talk to her now, being in such close proximity with her. It's like they weren't friends to begin with. (Almost like they can never even be friends again.)

"I want to apologize," she says, careful to avoid his eyes, "for what happened. With you and Sam."

He frowns, waves her off, tells her it's stupid that she's apologizing for her boyfriend when she hasn't even done anything wrong. Quinn just looks down at her feet, her hands behind her back, looking like the lost, lonely, hurt little girl he's seen during the past horrible year.

"It's not just that," she says, her voice quiet; she raises her eyes to his, "I just want to apologize, too. You know…for choosing the Cheerios over glee. I didn't want to, but…"

"You had to," he finishes with a nod. He lets out a little sigh, shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jersey shorts. "I know."

"I wish I didn't have to choose."

"I know that, too."

She nods, too, and she really does look sorry.

(But sorry doesn't change the fact that she's just not in glee anymore.)

"You're so much worth that this, you know," he says quietly, gently touching her arm, just a little. "You're better."

She doesn't say anything; she just stares hard at him, and he stares back. She obviously doesn't care that the cheerleaders and some of the football team are watching them curiously, and he decides that neither does he.

(He wonders when things between them had gotten so fucked up that they can't even be proper friends anymore, the way they used to be a year ago, that one year that feels like a lifetime.)

Coach Sylvester yells for Quinn then; she touches his face gently, almost tenderly, for just a little while, then runs away toward the Cheerios without looking back.

He sees Sam and Quinn kissing by the lockers. He looks away.

(Sure, he still loves Rachel, and Sam's his friend, and he hasn't seen Quinn this happy in a long time.)

(It still makes his heart ache, just a little, to realize that he and Quinn never really had a chance.)

Sometimes, he wishes things between them were simpler.

(He also wishes she hadn't slept with Puck.)

He catches her looking at this year's Thunderclap in the library one day.

"The glee photo, huh?" he says, sinking into the seat next to her.

She looks at him, offers a small smile that looks kind of sad. "It's a nice photo of you guys."

He sees her look down at the book again, absorbing the glossy page, staring at the faces of the club's remaining 9 members.

(He doesn't know exactly why he does, but he thinks back to last year's glee photo, and deep down he knows he still wants her to go back.)

Rachel tries to talk to him by his locker, but he just shakes his head and walks away, his heart breaking at the sight of her grief-stricken face, wishing with all his heart that he doesn't have to hurt her but hasn't the faintest idea how he can start trusting her again.

As he leans against a wall inside the boys' locker room and closes his eyes, he feels someone stand beside him. A soft hand closes gently over his, and without looking he already knows who it is. Her hand feels all too familiar. All too missed.

He turns his hand over and clasps his fingers around hers. Even after over a year, he finds that their fingers still fit perfectly together. Like they're meant to be that way all along.

"She loves you," she says.

He doesn't open his eyes, but just takes a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "I know that."

"You love her, too."

He doesn't say a word in reply.

"You know you love her. You know you do."

"I… I just don't know anymore."

"You're hurt, and so is she." She grips his hand tighter in hers. "But that doesn't stop her from loving you. Trust me," she says in a softer voice, so soft he can barely hear her, "I know exactly how that feels."

He opens his eyes a little, feeling his heart beat a hundred times a minute. He looks over at her, and there's sadness in her eyes, even though there's a small smile on her face. He wonders exactly what she means, but then she just leans over and brings her lips to his forehead. His eyes close again involuntarily at her touch.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, her lips still touching his forehead, "for everything."

He keeps his eyes closed, knows that if he opens them and takes one look at her, he'll just break down completely.

She caresses his face, then leaves without a backward glance. He opens his eyes and watches her go, feeling his heart break all over again.

The football team wins the big game against Carmel. He takes his helmet off, grinning from ear to ear, thrilled with the feeling of renewed victory.

He looks to the sidelines and sees Quinn looking at him. Her eyes bore into his, and she gives him a tentative smile.

He doesn't even hesitate; he just smiles back.

He calls her that night for the first time in nearly a year.

It's kind of awkward at first, but two hours later, they're both laughing at his stupid jokes and at stories of the silly dates they used to go on, at the movies they used to watch, at the things they used to do. It feels really nice, to get to talk with Quinn like this again, like nothing ever happened, and though his heart still stings a little, he wishes with all his heart that someday, somehow, maybe they'll become friends again.

"I wish you'd change your mind, Quinn."

She sighs; they've had this conversation before, a thousand times before. "It's not my decision anymore."

"Of course it is."

"I can't lose it all again, Finn," she says. "Not after last year. I've worked too hard to get everything back."

"I know," he sighs too. "It's just not the same, you know? Not having you around."

She just looks at him for a second, then lets out a deep breath and pushes her locker door shut.

"Come on, we'll be late to class."

When Quinn and Sam break up, he's the first person she runs to. She starts crying into his chest, and though he isn't sure what to feel, he just knows he wants to be there for her, because he knows she still means so much to him. Maybe even a little too much.

She feels so…familiar, nestled in his arms. Almost like she's meant to be there.

Almost like she's never left.

Quinn suddenly walks into the choir room during glee practice one afternoon. He sees Sam eyeing her tentatively, but she ignores him, she ignores everyone. She just smiles a little at Mr. Schue, asks if she could sit in for a while, then takes a seat next to Mercedes, who welcomes her with a friendly smile. He tries to catch her eye, but she doesn't even look in his direction.

The assignment's duets again, and it's Puck and Rachel's turn to sing. He didn't even know they're paired together, and he tries to act like he doesn't care, like it doesn't hurt, but it really, really does and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Rachel starts singing, looking directly at him, and he turns away awkwardly. The song's familiar; he can't exactly place where he's heard it before, but he feels a sort of connection to it, a sort of familiarity. He just sits there and stares down at his hands all throughout the song, feeling Rachel's eyes on him.

When the song ends and everyone but he is clapping, he hears Mercedes say, "Quinn, are you okay?" and his head snaps up; he sees Quinn get up from her seat, excuse herself, and run out the choir room. But not before he, and everyone else, has seen the tears running down her face.

That's when he remembers exactly when and where he's first heard the song.

"The song," he says, tentatively crouching down beside her on the grass in the football field, "it was playing at Breadstix, right? That – that first night?"

She nods, and she sniffles a little. "I embarrassed myself in there, I know. I guess I just missed it," she says quietly, looking sadly up at him, "our first date." She clears her throat, a bit shyly. "And you."

He smiles a little, then places his hand on top of hers before sinking onto the ground next to her. "I missed you, too."

He's on his way home after football practice when she calls him from the other end of the deserted corridor. He waits, frowning, until she's standing directly in front of him. He takes in her loose, golden hair, wavy and tumbling down past her shoulders. He takes in her pretty red dress, her stunning eyes, her 'I-know-a-secret' sideways smile.

His frown softens.

"You quit the Cheerios," he says softly; it's not even a question, he just knows.

"Uh-huh." Her smile turns into a tiny smirk. "For good this time."

His own grin widens; he can't help it, he feels as if his heart's going to burst. "But – but I thought–" he shakes his head and laughs. "You love the Cheerios. I know how hard it must've been for you…"

Her shoulder lifts in an offhand shrug. "It wasn't that hard to tell Coach Sylvester off."

They laugh; he can't quit smiling down at her, he knows his happiness is reflected so much in his face, and she touches it gently for a second, her eyes turning serious.

"I just…" she runs her thumb across his lips, and his heart starts pounding again, "I just realized that some things are more important."

The next thing he knows, her lips are on his, just for a short, bittersweet moment. They barely touch his, and for a crazy second he wishes she hasn't pulled away.

"Thank you, Finn," she says softly; she runs a hand through his hair, just like old times, "for everything. See you tomorrow." Then she walks away without another word.

He watches her go, shocked, confused, sad, and happy, all at the same time. He sees her golden curls bounce up and down, her skirt sashaying from side to side, until she disappears around the corner.

(Maybe after all this time, deep down, he still loves her.)

(And it's just never gonna go away.)

Spoilers based from those leaked on Tumblr and the gleeclub comm on LJ. :) Not beta'd, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes. Review? :)