A/N: Thanks again for the reviews/favourites/follows. Here's the next chapter - hope you enjoy.

This chapter is named after the song (and classic) 'Downtown' by Petula Clark.

Downtown

After Cheerios practice (and working out her rage by running the girls ragged), Quinn went for an angry run that had absolutely everything to do with getting her pre-baby body back and absolutely nothing to do with Berry's little performance.

It wasn't like the song wasn't well deserved or accurate, but she couldn't believe the girl's nerve! Despite everything that happened between them in the last week, the girl was just so confident and seemingly unaffected when Quinn was the total opposite!

Not only that, but the girl had made her look like an idiot in front of the whole of Glee Club and that was bound to get around the school quickly – she could hardly ease up on Berry after that!

The only thing about today that didn't make her feel sick to her stomach or encapsulated with murderous rage was the fact that Berry really was only just talking to Puck for the song. But still!

And then there was Santana - a thorn in her side that was getting uncomfortably close to the truth, and her pissed off former best friend wasn't exactly being quiet about it either.

After checking her phone and seeing that she'd been running for almost two hours (and had seemed to gravitate to the street before Rachel's), she cursed under her breath and headed home to get ready for Puck's stupid fucking party. She was seriously considering skipping it this morning, but after today she couldn't afford to miss it. As newly reinstated Head Cheerio, she couldn't really afford to miss the first party of the year anyway.

She hissed when she felt her phone buzz as she jogged back to her house; if this was Santana sending another gloating text about Berry's Glee performance (or anything Berry-related), she was seriously going to consider asking Coach if homicide is a viable option for squad disobedience.

hi quinn, we were just wondering what time u were getting to the party tonight? :)

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes at the pathetic (and obvious) group effort of some freshman and sophomore Cheerios to get in with their leader. She considered ignoring the message altogether, but with Santana there she'd need all the allies she could get.

9.30

She couldn't be bothered to send anymore than that, but they were lucky she was replying at all. Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

cool, do you want a ride with any of us?

Wow. She was sure she wasn't this much of a kiss-ass when she was a freshman.

no

She considered offering an explanation (she was actually driving there alone), but she didn't want to encourage that kind of pathetic behaviour from anyone on her squad. It was all about appearances, after all.

After taking a hot, angry shower she wrapped her hair in a towel and opened her wardrobe. It was nice to know she could actually fit into her pre-pregnancy clothes again, but she didn't really see the point in wearing wholesome floral dresses anymore, mostly because it wasn't who she was anymore – if it ever even was. Instead, she settled on some dark, tight low-cut jeans (it was all about the abs, after all) and a skimpy, white lace top.

It didn't look Santana slutty, but it still showed off her (many) assets. Her mom was too busy sucking up to her to make a comment anyway.

She was just about to start curling her hair when her laptop came alive and pinged with a notification.

She narrowed her eyes. Berry had posted a MySpace update.

Quinn let out a dry chuckle and paused getting ready in order to click play on the update. Some (and by some, she meant Santana) might say it's weird to have notifications set for when Berry updates her MySpace, but she'd set it up in freshman year and it was always hilarious to finish practice and tear a new video apart with the other Cheerios when it pinged up on her screen.

She also liked (re)watching them alone in her room at night, but that was no one else's damn business.

Quinn pressed play and quirked a brow at the girl's song choice – Downtown by Petula Clark.

It was a super Berry song, she supposed, and it was kind of sweet that a girl whose weekend plans probably consisted of Scrabble with her Dads was singing about going anywhere other than a supermarket.

She watched with a small smile as the girl, visibly excited about something, began to sing.

When you're alone, and life is making you lonely

You can always go

Downtown

When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry

Seems to help I know

Downtown

Berry had definitely had a tough week; that was for sure (once again because of her). Her Dads were probably taking her to a community theatre show or something.

The lights are much brighter there

You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares

So go downtown, things'll be great when you're

Downtown, no finer place for sure

Quinn smiled softly at the way the diva clenched her eyes shut and raised her right hand dramatically as she hit the chorus, enthusiastically performing to her audience of one.

Downtown everything's waiting for you

Downtown

She couldn't help but allow the smile on her face to stay there as she watched the rest of the performance. The girl just had so much boundless energy and optimism – something Quinn wished she could just bottle up and drink at times.

As the number came to a close and Berry thanked 'everyone' for listening, Quinn did what she always did. Appearances.

Cute performance RuPaul, maybe someday you'll get taken somewhere that isn't the local theatre by someone that isn't your dads

Biting her lip, she hit 'comment', reasoning it was one of her less brutal comments anyway. Once it was posted, she signed out of her account and did the other thing she always did.

Really good performance, love the song x

She pressed the comment button under a guest account. It was something she'd started doing in freshman year as well, and ever since Berry would always reply with an adorable (and sad) enthusiasm, urging the 'kind reviewer' to reveal their 'true identity'.

Quinn could only imagine how Berry would feel if she did.

Putting her laptop aside and going back to her mirror, Quinn started mentally preparing herself for a whole night of keeping up appearances, dodging drunk horny football players and trying not to strangle Santana.

Rachel was brimming with nervous energy as she walked up Noah's street at 9pm (after extensively researching appropriate party etiquette, she forced herself to not show up at 8.30 like her every instinct told her to). She'd told her Dads that she was sleeping over at Mercedes' house, and they were so delighted with the news that they didn't think to question why they were dropping their daughter off on a street that a dentist would definitely not live on.

Humming both anxiously and excitedly, she hovered just behind the corner that led onto Noah's street. She could already hear music pounding from the house walls and hear the sound of groups of people shouting, singing and entering the house.

How were all these people going to react when they saw Rachel Berry, McKinley High scum-of-the-earth, enter what is obviously their territory? She felt out of place enough at school, so she couldn't possibly imagine how she was going to feel in the middle of a party full of the very people that made her feel so unwanted.

But then, she reasoned, Puck – the host – had invited her. On Finn's behest, at that! So how unwelcome could she really be if two of the most popular boys in school wanted her there? Plus, if Quinn wasn't going to be there, then the level of torment she'd have to endure would probably be considerably less.

Although slightly anxious that this all may be some cruel prank, she held faith that Finn would not allow such a thing and turned the corner.

She was immediately met with wolf whistles from some football players she'd never seen before that were stumbling out of a car.

"Damn, Berry, who knew you had such an ass?" one leered, winking at her.

Suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to reprimand the boy for his sexist and lewd comment, she stifled her dismay and gave him a nervous nod instead.

"Fuck, nice outfit Berry!"

For the first time maybe ever, that comment on her clothing choice wasn't actually laced with sarcasm. Looking down, she once again analysed the outfit that she'd spent hours deciding on before she'd left the house.

Though her peers would say otherwise, she wasn't completely socially inept: she knew that it would be open season if she arrived wearing anything argyle (although she was very tempted by an argyle vest top she found), so instead she took a leaf from the book of Rachel Berry as Sandy from Grease: if you wanted to be cat-called instead of called names, it was all about the tight clothing.

With that in mind, she fished out a tight-fitting black top with a low neckline that Kurt had initially suggested to her when she was trying to lure Finn in last year, and accompanied it with a short camel-coloured skirt she hadn't worn yet. Although the look wasn't necessarily anymore revealing than what she'd normally wear to school, it was certainly a lot…tighter.

She didn't even want the attention of boys, per se: she just wanted to experience one night as a normal teenager where she didn't stick out like a sore thumb and perhaps even felt desirable. Despite all her nervousness, she genuinely was excited for the night to come.

Ignoring the stares from all those loitering in Noah's garden, she took a deep breath and headed inside the house.

The smell of beer hit her immediately, and she almost stepped out again when she saw how full the house was already. Full of jocks, Cheerios and other pretty and handsome teenagers that managed to climb their way to the top of the school's rigid social ladder.

"Shit, you made it!"

Never in her life had she felt so relieved to hear the voice of Noah Puckerman.

"H-Hi, Noah," she responded nervously, looking up at the boy. He was in his usual attire: blue jeans and a tight-fitting black vest top, only unlike at school, he was carrying a beer bottle in his right hand.

"You're looking fine as hell, my little Jewish princess," he smirked, although for once in a way that didn't feel overtly offensive.

She blushed and looked to her feet (she'd gone for black pumps). "W-Well thank you, Noah. This looks like a very…busy party."

"Come on, babe, let's get you a drink, you need to relax a bit," he said, putting his arm around her and guiding her towards what she guessed was the kitchen.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be drinking tonight, Noah, I-

"Babe," he interrupted, fixing her with a stern stare and placing either hand lightly on her shoulders. "This is a high school party, and everyone here will be drunk in a half hour. You need to relax."

She looked over her shoulder – were these people not drunk already?!

"It's illegal."

He scoffed. "It's a rite of passage."

"I don't want to get drunk and end up like one of those girls you see on TV adds."

"You wont! Look, let me make you one drink, okay? No one is asking you to get drunk – just have some fun and loosen up a little bit," he reasoned, putting on his best 'innocent' face.

She tapped her foot nervously and eyed the table full of various liquors, "I've never had a drink before."

Before Noah could answer, he was shoved aside by Santana.

"As sad as that is, it's also not surprising," the acid-tongued cheerleader quipped, regarding Rachel with an up-and-down stare. "Looking good, Berry. Who knew you had something in your closet that doesn't look like my dead great abuela's curtain."

She didn't really know whether or not to take that as a compliment, but by Santana's standards it was relatively amiable so she forced a smile in response. "Thank you, Santana. You're looking very nice yourself."

And that she was: the Latina was wearing a tight-fitting (and very short!) black and white patterned dress with a pair of sleek black heels to match. Although slightly intimidating, it also solidified Rachel's growing suspicion that she herself was at least somewhat into women (beyond Quinn, that is).

Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, stop perving on me and have a drink," she said, pulling out a red paper cup from a large pile and pouring some see-through liquid into it. "What d'you take, Berry? Lemonade, coke or juice?"

Rachel blinked. "What?"

Noah butted in before Santana could say anything else, rubbing his arm from where the girl had shoved him aside and looking at her irritably. "She means what do you want your drink with: coke, juice, whatever. The Puckster's got it all," he smirked.

"Uh…"

Santana cursed in Spanish and ran her hand through her hair impatiently. "D'you like cola, Berry?"

Rachel simply nodded mutely and watched as Santana gave her a sarcastic thumbs up and filled the rest of the cup with the fizzy dark liquid.

"Here," the Cheerio said, handing Rachel the cup.

Too afraid not to accept (and also still recovering from the fact that Santana Lopez just made her a drink), she held the cup up to her nose and sniffed it. "Thank you, Santana," she stammered. "Uh, w-what…what is it?"

"Give me strength," the girl muttered to herself, before she was softened by the appearance of Brittany at her side.

"Hey Rachel," the tall blonde smiled kindly, "You're looking super hot. I like how the top you're wearing doesn't have all those gross squiggly patterns on it you usually wear."

Rachel smiled back at the girl, partly because she knew Santana would punch her if she didn't but mostly because she knew the blonde didn't mean any malice by it. "You're looking wonderful yourself, Brittany."

Brittany beamed. "The party's totally awesome Puck," she said, not noticing the boy wink in response or Santana stomp on his foot with a glare afterwards. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Berry was just asking me what's in the drink I made her," Santana said with a roll of her eyes, looking over her shoulder to the party getting progressively busier behind her.

With barely a moment's warning, Brittany bounded forwards and sniffed the cup. "Oh, nice. You should have a sip, Rachel."

Not wanting to anger Santana and (relatively) trusting Brittany, Rachel took a tentative sip of the liquid.

Huh. That wasn't half bad!

"It tastes just like cola," she said with a smile.

Brittany smiled back; Santana rolled her eyes and Noah smirked.

"Vodka and cola," Brittany explained.

If this was what vodka tasted like, Rachel didn't know why her Dads were always saying how disgusting it is!

"Well, thank you, Santana."

"Yeah, whatever." The cheerleader turned to Noah, "Puck, is your spare room unlocked?"

"Yeah," the boy grumbled, gesturing towards the stairs.

"Cool." Without a second glance at Rachel, the girl grabbed a giggling Brittany's hand and set off towards the staircase.

"See ya later," Noah winked, heading off towards the living room and main source of the party. Rachel absentmindedly wondered where Finn was.

She took another sip from her (surprisingly nice) drink and marvelled in how well things were going so far. Santana had even made her a drink!

The pleasant surprise left as soon as it came when she heard a familiar voice (or rather sneer) coming from behind her.

"Manhands?! What the hell!"

Quite a short chapter but next one will be longer. More soon.