[A/N] Hey guys! Thank you for reading. I just want to say right away that I am well aware that in this story Quinn has been an insufferable bitch. There isn't a whole lot that is redeeming her right now other than the scraps of attention she's throwing Rachel's way and I realize that. I'm writing it this way for a reason. I'm also trying to write Quinn in character as the canon portrays her, which means she is going to be manipulative, condescending, and downright mean. I wouldn't be writing this story if I intended for her to stay this way for its duration or it wouldn't make any sense. But Quinn Fabray is more than just a pretty lady for me to write Rachel having sex with and I want to treat this character with the respect and study I feel she deserves. She's going to keep being an asshole because that's who she is and how her past has shaped her, but I promise after this chapter she is going to be an asshole significantly less frequently. Just trust me and stick around for the transformation of both girls and how that shapes what they mean, and will grow to mean, to each other.

Thank you again for your feedback!


The next few weeks follow a predictable pattern. Rachel does her best throughout the school day to avoid catching a glimpse of Quinn positioned snugly under Finn's arm, then during lunch finds Quinn in the girl's bathroom for a brief 'meeting' before returning to their separate ends of the social ladder. During glee club Rachel directs her attention to any other number of sub-par performances and leafs through her rhyming dictionary while purposely avoiding the canoodling in the corner.

Then she drives home and half-heartedly begins her homework while keeping her phone in the corner of her eye. She knows that it will buzz or blink with a message from Quinn-never a call, but always a text-indicating where and when they would meet. Rachel never gets a say in the matter. If Quinn summons her for a tête-à-tête at 4:35 at her house Rachel dutifully climbs into her car and drives while blasting the radio to drown out the voice that whispers how pathetic this automatic obedience makes her-she has the two block walk from her car's designated parking space to the Fabray's front door for those thoughts.

Sometimes, if Finn has practice, Rachel waits a full two hours for Quinn's message and they squeeze their time neatly between Rachel's arrival and Judy Fabray's return from work. Other times Rachel makes her way to Quinn shortly after rehearsal and their bodies intertwine for anywhere from fifteen minutes to three hours, depending on Quinn and Finn's after-school plans. Most of the time it goes off without a hitch.

Until it doesn't.

Tuesday there is a close call when an alarm fails and Rachel's fingers are buried to the hilt inside Quinn when the sound of the doorbell stops her heart and Quinn's moan seems stuck in her throat.

"Shit," Quinn hisses, "shit shit shit." She pulls her dress over her head and begins smoothing the bedspread before Rachel finds her underwear hiding in the folds of the blankets. "You have to leave."

"And how am I supposed to do that with, whoever it is, waiting outside? You don't expect me to risk my life by scaling down the side of your house like we're in some sort of comedy of errors, do you? Because if that's what you expect-"

"Whatever. Then just hide."

"Where?"

"In the closet? Under the bed? I don't really care, Rachel. Just hide somewhere. Now."

Quinn breezes out of the room, managing to look effortlessly put together, while Rachel sneaks into Quinn's bathroom to get dressed and wait for a signal indicating some sort of exit strategy. She sits on the bathtub's cold edge, willing herself to breathe as quietly as her racing heart and tight chest will allow.

"I mean, we could go to my house but, like, Kurt's there with Blaine and you know how he gets so weird when we're all there, you know, together. Plus Burt's there and if he sees me he's gonna want help with some car and I kinda just want to spend this time with you so...maybe we could stay here? Just this time." Finn's voice carries into the bathroom, past its closed door, and sounds like it's bouncing off every edge of each porcelain fixture and echoing back louder.

No. You don't get to stay here and hold her on the bed that most certainly still smells like me.More than her concern regarding her quiet exit, Finn's proposition strikes a more central and far more sensitive nerve.

She knew they were sharing; from the start of this arrangement that had been the agreement. Rachel knew that whatever she had her fingers grasped, however tenuously, around was that which Quinn would deign to give of herself, was just conveniently left over after encounters with Finn such as the one she was suffering through at that exact moment. It isn't a new concept by any means, but being faced with the reality that lies just beyond the bathroom door makes it impossible to merely tuck the information away-especially with the sound of lips smacking wetly and Finn's low groans filtering in. The Fabrays certainly could have furnished their bathroom with thicker doors and walls than this.

It's too much. She rises and slinks out of the bathroom through the hallway entrance and spends the rest of the night trying to keep the memories of that afternoon at bay. She doesn't hear from Quinn, but it's not like she expected anything.

The next day proceeds like nothing happened, which doesn't surprise her in the least. Quinn completely avoids making eye contact and a part of Rachel hopes that some of that avoidance stems from embarrassment. She won't hold her breath.

She finds a note in her locker just before lunch in Quinn's sloping handwriting.

Rachel,
I'm sorry about yesterday...it was really awkward. Let me make it up to you later? How does my house at 4 sound?

Question marks. That's new. Rachel folds the note and slips it in her pocket and when Quinn lifts her head in the cafeteria Rachel stares back squarely and gives her a small nod. Has she always been this powerless? When asked to describe herself with only three words during a Glee Club ice-breaker last year (Mr. Shue's way of trying to inspire some sense of community when he ran out of amateur dance moves) after little deliberation she had characterized herself as confident, driven, and fiercely independent. She doesn't feel that any of those words apply now-at least not when Quinn is in the picture. Now she feels weak, submissive, and pitiful-totally at the whim of someone else-and it doesn't feel good.

But when four o'clock comes Rachel is at Quinn's house waiting for the heavy oak door to swing open and reveal the girl who holds the trademark Rachel Berry Confidence in her delicate hands.

"Come in," Quinn says.

"Are you sure you don't have Finn already upstairs hiding from a surprise visit from your other lover?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, but doesn't slow her stride up the stairs. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I don't know what else you expected me to do, but I apologize anyway." She turns and takes Rachel's cheek in her hand. "You know, you're really cute when you're pissed."

"That could not be more condescending if you made an effort to be so-" but her phrase is cut off when Quinn's lips press against hers.

It doesn't take long until they're tangled together on Quinn's bedspread in various states of undress.

"You know," Rachel gasps, "for someone who remains so adamantly straight, you certainly work quickly when it comes to undressing a girl."

"Mmhmm," she murmurs, "I guess." Her lips close around one of Rachel's very sensitive earlobes and Rachel releases a breathy sigh. "I'm not though, Rach. We talked about this."

"I know," and when Quinn's teeth pull at the skin on her neck it doesn't matter. And then Quinn's hands are cupping her breasts and she has this look on her face, like there's nothing that could shake her focus from the body underneath her, which Rachel finds simultaneously flattering and confusing. As good as Quinn's touch feels on her hardened nipple it doesn't distract from the memory of the day before and the knowledge that less than a day ago, Finn Hudson was probably in this same position,

"But if you aren't gay, why are you doing this?" It comes out broken on a moan, a sigh, a groan as Quinn's fingers tease further down.

"Rachel, shhh, don't worry about it."

"No, I am worrying about it," Rachel shifts their bodies and hovers over Quinn. She feels queasy when she realizes that when she's not around Finn has this same view. He knows just how her hair spreads beneath her and how creamy her skin looks against the soft sheets. He knows exactly how to spread his hands over Quinn's hips to make her buck forward desperately, just like Rachel does. Maybe she isn't as okay with this as she was a couple weeks ago. Maybe this isn't okay at all. "I need to know. Why are you doing this with me? Does this mean anything to you at all?" Anger rises to her throat and she knows it is rising to her face. She feels its heat radiating off her cheeks.

"Where is this coming from?" Quinn snaps. "Stop it."

"I heard you and Finn yesterday. Do you actually have feelings for me or is this all just a substitute for the lack of sexual gratification you aren't getting from Finn?"

"How dare you-"

"No, I need to know. You know how I feel about you. You knew before we started doing this and I've been a good sport. I've followed your rules. I've played your way, but this isn't a game to me. I want to be more than someone to fool around with-"

"You knew exactly what you were getting into. We agreed-"

"Because you're so much more than that to me."

"That's not my fault. I never asked you to feel-"

"Quinn, you know I love you-"

"Get out!" She shrieks.

"What?" This is not exactly the declaration of love she had hoped for.

"Get out! Leave! I told you not to bring feelings into this and you did, you were fine and you had to ruin it. We're done here." Quinn rises and bundles Rachel's clothes in her arms. "You can change in the bathroom. We both know how much you enjoy spying from that particular hideout. After that, get out. I don't want to see-"

"You can't just shut me out when you don't like what you hear, Quinn! You can't merely turn me out when you're faced with feelings you aren't prepared to face!"

"I swear Rachel, if you don't get out of my sight you will really be sorry."

The threat in her voice is very real and Rachel is almost certain that Quinn is stronger than she looks and is not above physically forcing her out of the house. Quickly and silently she pulls her clothes on in that bathroom and manages to will herself not to cry until she's in her car. She shakes with her sobs so violently that she has to pull over and collect herself. She doesn't need this, not right before Regionals when there's so much to do and she has a song to write. Maybe songwriting inspiration is the silver lining of this cloud.

In the safety of her own bathroom she strips down and steps into the shower, the water is icy against her skin, Daddy must be running the dishwasher and washing machine at the same time again, but she doesn't care. She scrubs her arms and legs hard. She tries to wash away any memory of Quinn's touch, scent, tenderness, anything that will call to mind those stolen moments hidden away in her arms.

She braids her wet hair away from her face and wraps herself in her soft pink bathrobe before she settles down at her desk with a pad of paper and her lucky pen. In an hour a small pile of crumpled pages surrounds her. Everything that flows from the nib of her pen is useless. It becomes immediately clear that she can't write about Quinn and their fallout-she's angry but not angry enough to reveal this particular indiscretion to the entire Glee Club. Instead she focuses on something else-something less explicit.

When she tells the story of her rise to fame, she decides, she won't talk about the first drafts that came before 'Only Child'. Instead she'll just pretend it was a flash of lightning like brilliance. It isn't the song she intended to write but she decides it's a masterpiece in an entirely different realm.

Rachel strides into the choir room with her shoulders back and a smile on her face. It's important to look confident and put together-especially when reality is just the opposite. But she has a song that's destined for greatness in her bag and a solo to secure. Really, she's too busy to even consider Quinn Fabray.

Then Quinn does the unthinkable. Now she wants to write an original song with Rachel? She wants to work together? The same girl who looks ready to break her nose the day before is volunteering, in front of the entire Glee Club, to spend time creating at her side. Rachel can barely keep her jaw from dropping to her lap. She whips her head around and wide-eyed stares at Quinn, whose blinding smile makes Rachel's heart lurch.

"Auditorium after school around 3:30. I already have some ideas for a song. Meet me there and we'll go over it."

"Um...okay?" She rolls back her shoulders further and adds almost an inch to her height by standing up as straight as she can.

"You're late."

She knows. At 3:30 she had laid a hand on the heavy auditorium door, but then she couldn't breathe and had to sit down for a minute and talk herself through the moment without throwing up. But this didn't have to be bed. She could use this interaction to her advantage-get some real answers. What else could Quinn rip away at this point?

"We're friends, right?" She asks before Quinn can open her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess so?" Rachel can see the surprise on Quinn's face but she doesn't stop to explain her question.

"I mean, like, everything happened last year… you gave your baby to my mom… we kind of bonded over it, right?" She knows this is unfair and manipulative, but it's a page out of Quinn Fabray's book and it works. She knows she has the power in that moment because Quinn stares at her, shell-shocked, for a full five seconds.

"What's your point?" Quinn snarls.

"My point is that I know we haven't spent a lot of time together this year but I thought that we were close enough to be honest with one another," Rachel states, simply and clearly. She could mention that she believes herself entitled to some form of honesty after how many afternoons she's spent getting to know the literal ins and outs of Quinn's body, but she doesn't.

"Go ahead," Quinn challenges, "ask me."

"Fine!" Rachel readies herself. "Are you and Finn together?" She winces as she hears the whine in her voice echo on the stage into the house. She knows that Quinn knows exactly what togetherimplies.

Quinn looks pensive before saying quietly, "Yes, for a couple of weeks."

Something fragile inside of Rachel cracks and breaks. She's relieved to have an honest answer and to have her suspicions confirmed...but she didn't expect to have the answers handed to her so easily.

"It's like Groundhog's Day with you, Rachel," she laughs and its cruelty pierces Rachel's heart. "How many times do you have to make the same mistake to realize it's not going to work out?"

It takes a moment for Rachel to form an reply. She considers acknowledging the question with a proper answer, but nothing comes to mind.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, Quinn, and I'm happy for you and Finn, but don't go and try to rewrite history." She looks up and meets Quinn's gaze with a sense of power, of the slightest bit of control in her clenched fist. "It was real between us." It takes every ounce of will and care to keep the phrase steady and convincing. She doesn't want to plead or whine or turn it into some kind of question. The statement should be something Quinn cannot try to deny.

Quinn shrugs. "And how long did that last for?" She asks almost playfully. She sounds like she's teasing her-making light of the situation and it's cruel. Fury burns through Rachel and she fights the urge to storm out.

"Why are you being so mean?" She asks, pleadingly. This isn't the girl she's dreamed of, thought of, hoped for, written songs and poems and secret notes to. This is not herQuinn Fabray, but, she realizes a moment too late, this is all very Quinn Fabray. The Quinn in her mind, the one she is fighting to find...maybe she's just fiction.

Quinn rises from the piano and strides toward Rachel. She doesn't feel strong or tall anymore. In Quinn's shadow she feels shrunken and weak.

"Do you want to know how this story plays out?" She asks. She proposes it like a game. Rachel doesn't get a chance to agree. "I get Finn. You get heartbroken. And then Finn and I stay here, and start a family. I'll become a successful real estate agent," her voice falters and cracks. Is she about to cry? "And Finn will take over Kurt's dad's tire shop." She's crying as she finishes, a note of resignation to this bleak future carrying through her prophesy. "You don't belong here, Rachel! And you can't hate me for helping to send you on your way." She's shaking as she cries. Rachel puts out an arm to steady her? To comfort her? To embrace?

"You don't tell me what I want or what I deserve or where I belong. What I want is you, but I'm not-I'm not okay with some. I want all of you. I want a relationship with you that is more than just fooling around between classes. If you can't give me that then I'm...then take Finn, become Prom Queen and make yourself as popular and beloved as you think will make you happy. But just know that there's someone in front of you willing to make you feel that special everyday, with or without a tiara. And maybe that person is a girl, but you won't be able to deny forever that there's something between us that all of your bitterness and angry can't break." Quinn doesn't blink or make any move to respond. "I'm not giving up. It's not overbetween us," she assures. Maybe she's pleading and hoping that Quinn will see what Rachel is offering-another way out, an alternative to the bleakness she herself prescribed.

"Yes it is!" Quinn yells. Rachel takes a step back and the memories of Quinn's distorted and angry face from the day before make her dizzy. "You are so frustrating! And that is why you can't write a good song. Because you live in this little schoolgirl fantasy of life. Rachel, if you keep looking for that happy ending, then you are never going to get it right!"

The silence that follows the explosion is heavy and terrifying. Rachel worries that if she mutters even a syllable, Quinn will be off and running again with another list of insults, so she stands stock still in her place as Quinn moves easily back to the piano. "So we're done with that, and why don't we just return to our work, okay?" She sighs deeply and just like that it's over. The conflict is swept under the rug, the insults evaporate and Quinn is ready to pretend nothing further ever happened.

"No, I think I'm going to write this song on my own." Rachel turns on her heel and squeezes her eyes shut to stem the tears she knows are coming. She isn't about to let Quinn see her on the verge of tears two days in a row.