She didn't look at them, just the stars as she explained, "I love to sing; I do. And I do want to get on stage and perform and have my name in lights—someday. However, now, I'd just really like to dial it down a notch: maybe be a teenager. You know," she met their faces with a wry smile. "Have some of those life experiences that people are always talking about?"

Kurt chuckled as he took the bottle from her and brought it to his lips. He vaguely wondered how much he'd had.

"Experiences," he scoffed, smirking. "You mean like being in love with your likely soon-to-be step-brother, who will never love you because he's straight?"

Rachel smiled apologetically as he passed the bottle to Quinn. "Or being in love with a goof so obsessed with his reputation he continually hurts you—only to have you continually forgive him?"

Quinn put the bottle down and shook her head, snickering. "Or being so in love with said guy, so scared of losing him, that you were willing to ruin his life by telling him someone else's kid was his?"

The three of them laughed out loud at their idiocy and looked to Puck, now holding the bottle. He stared back at them, shaking his head as he said, "Sorry; I'm not in love with Finn."

As he tipped back the bottle, the rest got caught in a serious case of the giggles. He finished his drink and laughed with them, then let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped in guilt. "I do feel bad for letting him down, though; going behind his back," he muttered. "He was-is- my best friend, and I feel like I was a jealous shit doing it." His expression brightened, however, as Quinn crawled toward him and gave him a consolatory kiss. He took her face in his hands and smiled as his tongue slid into her mouth. It didn't bother him that she'd loved Finn first; it just mattered that he had her now.

Rachel smiled and contented herself by gazing back at the heavens. Kurt, however, was not nearly so patient, and soon cleared his throat pointedly, causing Quinn to giggle in chagrin as she slid back to her seat.

"Anyways," Puck continued, pointing at Rachel with the bottle, "at least you can live up to your parents' expectations. I have to come home every day to see my ma's disappointment in me permanently drawn on her face." He took another drink.

"Please," Rachel told him as he passed it to Quinn. "My mother decided she would rather play happy families with your kid than try to have a relationship with me—and that's after sending some guy to weasel into my life and pretend to be my boyfriend."

"My mom is a spineless alcoholic who waited until my dad's hypocrisy affected her to give a crap about me," Quinn threw in as she took another sip. Only Puck and Rachel were really going at it still; she and Kurt seemed content with their level of drunkenness. Those two seemed to be out to prove something.

"My mom's dead; kind of brings abandonment to a whole new level," Kurt said bitterly. " I mean, not that it was her fault, but it pisses me off that she isn't here—now, especially, when I need her."

There was a long beat of silence, and he felt a little bad when he realized he'd killed the mood. He looked at Rachel and shrugged uneasily. "Guess that kind of ruins the 'parent's suck' plight doesn't it?" he asked her, handing off the bottle. "Needing them? Wanting them there?"

She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled softly. "Nope; it's worse—because now you feel guilty that they suck." He smiled and the others relaxed.

Puck sighed, as he took another swig. "I think I'm tired of being angry." God damn it; now he was acting girl drunk—they were doing feelings.

"I think I'm tired of being driven," Rachel told him.
"I think I'm tired of being myself," Kurt voiced.

"I think I'm tired of all this talk," Quinn all but shouted, once again on her knees as she crawled over and pulled Puck toward her face. She giggled as they hit the blanket.

Rachel disentangled herself from their mess, standing unsteadily as she began to walk toward the playground. She made it to the swings before she realized Kurt had followed her.

They both sat, neither swinging because they were way too drunk, listening to the giggles and moans from twenty-some odd feet away.

Suddenly, the entirety of Kurt's stomach was emptied on the ground. Rachel tried to push back with her feet, forgetting she was on a swing and therefore falling backward onto the ground just behind him.

They both groaned softly. Kurt spoke first. "I really could've done without this part of the evening," he told her, coughing up what was still in his throat.

"The two of them going at it on my blanket, or you throwing up?" she asked him, rubbing the back of her head. She laughed when he answered "Both."

"We may as well let them have their moment," Rachel said wistfully as she heard Quinn squeal in delight.

"Hey," Kurt warned her, lifting his head slightly to meet her eyes. "Don't start that pity party again."

She smiled, running her pinched thumb and index finger across her pressed lips to signify the "zipped lip" saying.

They sat in silence again. Kurt wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk, but he decided he didn't really like quiet Rachel; it was just unnerving.

"I always thought your diva 'tude was natural," he admitted, deciding he'd rather have her talk.

Rachel was thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe it is," she told him. "I don't really know. It's what I've always been told to be: the most driven, the most talented—the next star on Broadway. Maybe I've been this so long it is who I am—at least to some extent."

"Then who are you now?"

"The other Rachel Berry: the adolescent who, at thirteen, didn't get to go to a party because of an audition; didn't go to sporting events because of rehearsals and training. And so she decided to steal from her fathers' liquor cabinet and come out to the park and live a little." She smiled up at him. "Until tonight, it's just been me. It's kind of nice not being alone."

There was a pause in their conversation while Kurt retched again, though there was less to bring up now. Rachel guided him to the water fountain at the edge of the wood chips, then to a bench on the grass.

"So why did you set up your dad and Finn's mom if you wanted Finn?" she asked him.

"I wanted to get closer to Finn," Kurt explained sheepishly. "I guess I didn't think it would work out as well for our parents as it has." He paused. "Or as awkwardly for us."

He sighed. "I mean, at least he loves you," he continued. "He told you so himself, and he's always making those puppy eyes at you—even when it was him and Quinn."

Rachel sighed. "Yeah; I guess I just didn't expect for it to be so hard to work. He's so indecisive, so insecure; I'm just afraid I'm jumping out of the frying pan into the fire."

"I guess I just can't relate really," Kurt told her. "I'm still waiting for mine." He sighed and laughed wryly. "Not really a lot of opportunity for a gay kid in this cow town."

Rachel smiled kindly as she put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll happen; after all, you're a Cheerio. All Cheerios get action."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Yes, I'm sure my coming out and joining the Cheerios will cause a pouring forth of male specimens to line up at my door." Their eyes met and they began giggling again.