Okay, so this is my first Fafaberry fic, so go easy on me. Basically, it's senior year, except that it's slightly AU in the fact that Fuinn are still together. Enjoy!

Sometimes I give myself the creeps, sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.

Chapter One: Basket Case

"I haven't been in here in forever." Charlie murmured to herself as she perused the aisles of the music store, letting her fingers idly ghost over sheet music and biographies of different artists. A tiny grin had hastened to grace her face, and it only grew wider when she passed over a vinyl copy of U2's album The Joshua Tree.

Quinn would like this, she thought to herself, letting a finger run over it. Charlie wasn't much for bribery, but maybe a nice gift would lessen the shock value of her return… And Quinn did seem to have taken a liking to U2… But then, the last time Charlie had spoken to her about music had been three years ago, before high school. There was no telling how much she'd changed.

But still… Biting her lip, Charlie tilted the album to take a glance at the price and promptly paled. An internal war immediately ensued.

She had a job – but wait, no. A frown tugged at her lips. She didn't have a job anymore, did she? Her money had spawned from working at the concessions at various events on campus… and well, her stay at New Haven Academy had ended weeks ago. Since then, she'd taken up residence at her older sister Frannie's house in Columbus, waiting diligently throughout the summer for her mother's "okay" to return to the Fabray home.

Now it was a week before senior year started, and Charlie had just arrived in Lima. Which is why she'd opted to lounge a local strip mall for a bit in the effort to procrastinate the drama that would inevitably follow her homecoming. Since she was more than fairly certain her mother hadn't bothered to tell Quinn about it just yet.

No, Charlie was going to be the one who had to open Pandora's Box.

Still, she thought, eyeing the vinyl album. With or without a job, she could afford to splurge a little. Especially if the effort in a present prevented Quinn from killing off harmless villagers.

With a smile, Charlie picked up the case and made a move to head toward the register at the end of the aisle when she glimpsed something large lumbering toward her in the corner of her vision.

A boy, vaguely resembling the Eifel Tower, had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He sported a rueful grin as he zoned in on her. "Hey, babe! I didn't know you were here." he greeted Charlie before leaning forward.

The girl raised an eyebrow as his face got closer and closer until she realized what was happening. Her eyes widened as he captured her lips with his own.

Well, Charlie certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Quinn Fabray was suspicious.

Hazel eyes drifted away from her phone as she idly clicked the OK button, thereby sending a confirmation text to Santana Lopez about some party she was supposed to attend next weekend. They fell over her mother who was busily working across from her in the kitchen, baking.

Because, ever since Russell had left near the end of sophomore year, Judy Fabray had taken to baking. Quinn didn't particularly approve, considering that after the baby it was very tough to get back in shape with the smell of brownies and cookies constantly smacking you in the face when you walked through the door, but she didn't complain either. Mostly because she had been sure that at some point her mother was going to break down into an emotional wreck because of the divorce, and she would have to comfort her.

Baking, apparently, prolonged the unavoidable awkwardness. It must get her mind off it, Quinn thought, although occasionally she would catch Judy hunched over a batch of cookies or something similar. Yes, multiple times she'd seen the silent tears across her mother's face as she fought back sobs… When it happened, Quinn would always force herself to look away, and, with a tight throat, she would wonder to herself what was so sad about baking. Then she'd leave.

So, really, there was nothing peculiar about her mom's constantly being in the kitchen. However, Judy had been in there since the morning, and though Quinn hadn't been bothered enough to go and see what she was making, she was well aware that the food she'd prepared far surpassed the quantity needed for just two people.

When she had pried her mother about it, though, Judy had simply shrugged it off. She told Quinn that a few friends were coming over and that the blond ought to look nice or she'd regret it. That part didn't really pique Quinn's curiosity, since during and after the divorce, Judy had had many of her friends from work or otherwise over to eat. Quinn supposed it was nice having a few people in the house after going so long with just two, but what was really bothering her was the fact that her mother wouldn't tell her who was coming over.

For some reason, the blond found that incredibly disconcerting, especially since whenever she pried for more details about the "friends" this look would cross her mother's face. It strangely resembled sympathy.

Something told her that this wasn't going to be good.

"I am too gay for this!" Charlie practically shouted as she shoved the rather appalled boy off of her. Her chest was heaving, mostly from the lack of oxygen she'd just experienced, but also because she was livid.

It had taken her a fraction of a second longer than it should have for her to realize the teen rubbing the stubble around his mouth all over her face was what could be considered kissing, and once she was done being stunned over the fact that a perfect stranger had just kissed her, she'd shut it down. Namely, by grabbing him by the shirt (a move that he apparently thought was prompting and tried to stick his tongue in her mouth) before pushing him back into a shelf with all the force she could muster.

As it happened, Charlie didn't have to exert her muscles too much, considering gravity did pretty much everything for her. The boy, apparently not too graceful on his feet, slammed into the shelf – knocking a few CDs and books to the floor – before his feet got tangled and he promptly fell into a pile on the ground.

However, he didn't seem to be as concerned with the assault as much as he was with what she'd said.

"Wait, what?" he cried, eyes wide from his place amongst the felled merchandise. "You're gay?" He looked incredulous, and Charlie knew she must appear the same. What the hell did he expect pulling something like that? He was lucky she didn't have mouth herpes or something as equally distressing.

"As a matter of fact, I am!" Her voice had lowered since the initial surprise, because although the shelves gave them some privacy from the rest of the shop, the store had gone uncannily quiet since her uncomfortably loud announcement about her sexuality. She was almost certain people were listening in. "But, that shouldn't even matter. A girl shouldn't have to walk around with a pride pamphlet stapled to her forehead in the hopes that some random guy would see it before he decided to try and kiss her!" She struggled to keep quiet, and her words came out in an angry, hoarse whisper.

But, it was hard containing her rage, especially when the boy looked as if he'd gone into such a shock that he was barely registering anything she said. With a strangled sound, Charlie made for the end of the aisle and burst out into the open where a few customers who'd been watching the shelves eyed her inquisitively. She heard a guy say something like, "Well, it sure is a pity," to his friend.

"Random…?" she heard behind her, and Charlie's eyes immediately rolled of their own accord. Honestly, she prided herself on being a nice person. However, when stressed or confronted with a difficult situation, she did get a bit cranky. And her patience was slowly dwindling for this boy.

"You c-can't be gay! That would mean you like girls!" The boy said to the back of her head, making no effort to quiet his voice, which carried. Naturally.

Charlie whipped around and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, that would be the definition of gay."

"B-but," began the boy, and she was certain he was about to argue. What was up with this jerk? Didn't he know this was embarrassing? Didn't he know that he was in the wrong and he should have just stayed down?

It made her madder than when her father had sat her down at age fourteen and showed her a pamphlet to New Haven.

"Are you an idiot?" she demanded, hazel eyes blazing with irritation. "Do you not know what a girl is?" Charlie shoved a finger in the direction of a girl of her age behind the register that promptly looked faint upon the gesture – which was puzzling – and glared. "That's a girl." she practically shouted before pointing to several others in the shop, all of whom looked ill whenever her gaze settled on them.

It was disconcerting. Even if she was making a scene, she wasn't quite certain why they would fear her.

"And that's a girl!" she finally pointed toward a brunette who had been conspicuously eying them from behind a book (Streisand: A Biography it read). The girl was dressed in what Charlie would have kindly referred to as a yellow shirt – but in all honesty, it favored the hue of puke more – with a white reindeer emblazoned across it and a black and yellow (again, puke) plaid skirt to match it. Upon being pointed at, the girl immediately dropped the book to the floor and looked as if she could have died.

The boy, however, had simply gaped at her throughout the whole temper tantrum – because yes, Charlie was aware singling out every girl in the shop to prove she was gay would qualify as having a fit. That is, he gaped until she pointed at that last girl, realized she was there, and started sputtering. "Rachel?"

Charlie guessed he recognized her, although she wasn't really sure if the question was directed at her or Rachel. "Yeah, sure, whatever." she told him, hugging the vinyl to her chest. "Point is: I like girls. Not you, whatever-your-name-is." She all but spat those last words, making sure the patented Fabray venom clung to every single syllable.

The kid looked as if he were holding back tears at this point. "My… name… is… Finn…" he sniffled, appearing both utterly shocked and hurt at the same time.

Although it really could be considered pathetic the way he was trying to stealthily dab at his eyes, it actually warmed something in Charlie. The ice that had taken up residence in her gaze promptly melted, and she gave the boy a look of utter pity. Expelling a sigh, she scratched her head as her anger seemed to instantly dissipate. "Look, kid—Finn. I'm sure there's a girl out there for you. It's just not me. And that's not your fault. I'm just not attracted to you, okay? It can't be helped. But you look kind of cute, and I'm sure other girls might think so, too. Just don't randomly kiss them, okay? You'll be fine, kid." With that, she made a move to ruffle his hair, but then found the reach a little too high, and let her hand swing back down awkwardly.

He just stared at her, eyes red.

"Right… So, uh. Yeah." Charlie said blankly before scratching her own head again and looking around. The entire shop's eyes were on them.

Swallowing her embarrassment, she made a beeline for the register and slapped a few bills down on the counter, a couple dollars more than enough for the vinyl. When the stunned cashier made no move to take the money or scan the record and Charlie could still feel Finn's eyes on the back of her head, she made the consecutive decision to leave the money and all but sprinted out of the store.

Two batches of lasagna, fried potatoes, and some expensive looking champagne awaited her in the kitchen.

This told Quinn four things.

One: The "friends" were close to her mother because otherwise she wouldn't have wasted the time (or money) on their dinner.

Two: At least some of them were of drinking age.

Three: There had to be more than one of them for the quantity, although the plural use of friend already sort of gave that way.

Four: That lasagna looked really good.

Idly staring at the food as she entered the kitchen, Quinn glanced over at her mother.

"So—"

"Quinn, I'm not telling you who they are." Judy cut her off before she could get a word in. She moved to lean against the counter and smiled proudly at her finished work.

The ex-cheerleader, however, huffed in an almost childlike fashion. Honestly, if anyone else was in the room (especially if they were from school), they wouldn't have recognized the girl. Only her mother got to see her more juvenile side. "But—" she began to protest.

"No."

"Are they—"

"Nada."

"Mom—"

"Nope."

"Rah!" Quinn shouted, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration 'causing Judy to smile.

Muttering under her breath, she scowled at her mom's amusement and made her way to the refrigerator to pull out some microwaveable bacon for a snack – Judy actually had the nerve to chortle. What could she say? Since the pregnancy, her cravings never really got back to normal.

Just as she opened the microwave, however, her phone went off in her pocket. She debated not checking it, figuring it was just a response from Santana, but then it went off two more times.

Where's the fire? Quinn thought, eyes widening a little in puzzlement as she fished her phone out of her pocket. She checked the most recent text as she shut the door and started up the microwave.

Puck: So, this means I've banged two lesbians? RIGHT ON!

Quinn stared at the text with a quirked brow. What the hell? He can't have meant to send that to me. With a sigh, she deleted the message and mosied back to the fridge to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Once it was full, she gripped the glass in one hand and was about to check the next message when the microwave went off.

Calmly, she opened the microwave, pulled out two delicious-looking pieces of bacon on a napkin and placed them and her glass onto the counter opposite her mom. Only when she was settled did she lean back against it to check the next message.

Finn: …Does this mean your breaking up with me?

Quinn supposed this should have piqued her curiosity more, but she was used to this kind of tripe from her boyfriend. You see, Finn wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but he was cute, and he was going to help her win prom queen this year. But still, everything he said had to be taken with a grain of salt. Accuracy wasn't exactly his forte, and so Quinn simply raised an eyebrow at the text. The most interesting thing about it was the fact that he had failed to use 'you're' instead of 'your' again.

Boredly expelling a breath, she started taking a sip of her orange juice as she clicked the button to read the next text.

Finn: QUINN YOU'RE A LESBIAN AND YOU'RE GAY FOR RACHEL?

Well, that certainly grasped her attention. If grasping her attention meant that she choked on her orange juice and sprayed it all over her mother and the two cooling batches of lasagna next to her.

Also, he used 'you're' correctly.