Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except all the grammatical mistakes and general errors in this chapter.

I.

Rachel loved being part of the football team.

The unadulterated thrill of going out onto that field everyday, getting a whiff of that fresh grass beneath her football cleats as she ran across the field clutching the ball tightly in her hands, proving to herself that no matter how much people tried to crush her spirit she will always come out on top. It almost rivaled the rush she felt whenever on stage with the bright heat of the lights blaring down upon her.

It wasn't all perfect, of course,-

-her teammates treated her worse than they treated the water boy (an acne ridden freshman with unfortunate headgear), and yes, her one and only friend on the team turned out to be an easily peer pressured coward, but knowing that she was actually good at something other than singing, dancing, and acting, (and making a fool out of herself when talking to other people)-

-felt pretty fucking awesome.

Jogging over to the bench where the cooler was, she removed her helmet and opened the cooler to fetch herself a much deserved drink to cool down as practice ended. As she greedily gulped down some water, from the corner of her eye she saw Coach Beiste approaching her.

She choked and spluttered as Coach Beiste smacked her on the back joyously. "Good job out there today, Berry."

Rachel hurriedly wiped her mouth and straightened up. "Thank you, Coach," she said with a bashful smile.

"You play like that at next week's game and the other team will go home cryin'," Coach Beiste stated with a proud nod.

The half back watched as the woman walked away to yell at some of her more less talented team members and grinned brightly to herself. A tap on her shoulder broke her out of her vindictive reverie. She scowled at the sight of the constipated giant that wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how many times she ignored him.

Finn had that look of pure guilt on his face - the same one he's been sporting whenever in her vicinity- which just made her even madder. "Rach, can we talk?" He asked timidly.

Rolling her eyes, she shoved past him to walk over to where her stuff lay. "I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Finn Hudson," she huffed out as she hastily grabbed her things and hoisted them up on a padded shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Finn called out from behind her as she began to walk away from the field. He quickly made his way to follow her. "There was nothing I coulda' done to stop em'!"

"You're the quarterback, Finn," she said glaring pointedly at the flustered boy. "You could of said something... to at least try and stop even just a few of them, but you chose to be a sheep and brainlessly went along with that immature display of tomfoolery, not thinking of the consequences of your actions."

"They would of slushied me too!" Finn instantly knew he said the wrong thing as he watched the short football player clench her jaw tightly.

"We were supposed to be friends," Rachel muttered in obvious disappointment.

"We are!" he argued back vehemently.

Rachel tightened the grip she had in her helmet to avoid trouble by maiming Finn's head with it. "Friends don't participate in ambush slushy tactics just to save their own skin."

Finn looked away in shame. "I'm-"

"-sorry, I know." She sighed heavily, turning away from him. "Just go shower, Finn. Your body odor is making my eyes tear up."

"What can I do to make you forgive me?"

Rachel walked away without a response.

II.

As Rachel stood tensely by herself - looking around the parking lot nervously, all the while chewing on her lower lip, and rolling on the balls of her feet - she wondered if she had developed a mild case of PTSD. The tiny football player gulped anxiously and sent up a quick prayer that her dad would hopefully get here soon. She was fucking drained after a long day of dealing school, glee, and football practice. All she wanted to do was go home, lock herself in her bedroom, and day dream about Quinn- set to the backdrop of various songs about unrequited love.

Puffing out a heavy breath as she adjusted the heavy bags on her shoulders, she groaned under the strain of the weight. Rachel vehemently refused to leave her football gear in the locker rooms after making that mistake on her first day on the team, only to find her uniform reeking of urine the next day. She had to hand to the idiot bullies at her school, they were certainly creative with their methods of torture.

Urine drenched belongings and slushies to the face- god, her memoir was practically already guaranteed to be quite the tearjerker.

Rachel was so disturbed and horrified by the event, she almost quit the team right then and there and called the ACLU on her idiotic teammates asses. But instead she went home, cried about it to Sam over the phone, opened up Pandora radio, and went over all the reasons why she was doing all this.

Quinn.

Just the thought of the girl brought back the goofy smile to her face.

'Dear true love, I'm a writer without any words, I'm a story that nobody heard, when I'm without you.'

She turned up the volume and beamed in delight as the song started playing, immediately thinking of Quinn. Just the thought of the girl made Rachel feel like she could face anything the world threw at her. She was like a broken record, but seriously, even if she was drenched with a million slushies everyday- fine, whatever, bring it on. She would not give up on winning over Quinn just because of some people's petty desire to make themselves feel good by bullying others.

"I am a voice, I am a voice without any sound, I'm a treasure map that nobody found, When I'm without you." Rachel sang the words softy under her breath as she clutched her bedazzled iPod in one and her helmet in the other.

"Dear true love, I'm a lantern without any light, I'm a boxer much too afraid to fight, when I'm without you." She let her eyes drift shut, singing the words a bit louder, loosing herself to the music as always the case with her.

.

"Are you going to tell what you're up to anytime soon, Berry?" Quinn giggled happily as Rachel dragged her to the choir room.

Rachel stared back at her with a soft blush, shaking her head innocently. "It's called a surprise for a reason, Quinn."

As they reached the door, she looked back at the gorgeous blonde and bit her lip shyly. "Close your eyes for me?" she asked nervously, she grinned as she watched those hypnotizing eyes flutter shut. Her breath caught as she watched those long curled lashes touch the soft skin of Quinn's cheek.

Opening the door, Rachel led the blonde inside and sat her down on one of the rows of chairs.

"Open your eyes, beautiful," she whispered as she let go of the girl's hand.

-the empty choir room littered with rose petals of different colors and meanings, lights deemed to set the mood, a stool in the middle of the room with Rachel perched on it with her guitar. Quinn was gazing at her with a surprised look.

"What's all this for?" The blonde asked.

Rachel shrugs sheepishly as she strapped on her guitar. "I just thought I'd- you know, do something to show you how much I care about you," she says, a bit flustered at the way the other girl's eyes bore into her. "You're the most amazing girl I've ever met, Quinn."

"Rach..."

"Just listen to the lyrics, Pretty Girl."

As she strummed her guitar and sang her song, she would occasionally look up from her guitar and open her eyes-

-only to look back down, blushing hotly under that molten gaze.

"So with this ring, may you always know one thing, what little that I have to give, I will give it all to you, you're my one true love-"

.

-she was abruptly woken up from her fantasy when a hand yanked her headphones out of her ears in a rough manner.

"I have rape whistle!" She yelled out spastically, getting into a standard self defense stance.

"You're a freak." A voice lazily drawled out.

Rachel lowered her arms slowly and stared bug eyed at the two cheerleaders looking at her with bemused expressions. Oh, god- why can't she ever just act normally? Her face felt like it was on fucking fire.

"I- um... hello." She nodded her head jerkily at them. "Is there something I can do for you?" She watched as they gave each other brief amused looks before staring back blankly at her.

Rachel looked to the ground in defeat. "If you're here to beat me up, please, just try and avoid my nose." She made a move to put her stuff down when was stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Don't be so fuckin' dramatic, we're not here to beat you up," Santana stated with an obviously disappointed look.

"I'm totally against violence." Brittany stated seriously.

"I'm not," Santana muttered with a shrug as if to say, 'I'd totally be giving you a wedgie right now if Britts wasn't here'.

Brittany stared down at Rachel with a confused head tilt. "How come you're all sweaty?"

Blushing brightly, the tiny half back fiddled with her the straps of her helmet. "I- I'm- I'm on the football team," she explained in an attempt to get them to stop staring at her in that nerve wracking manner. "Practice just ended."

"Clearly, Dwarf." Santana bit out, buffing her fingernails in a bored manner. "What, is showering not allowed for Hobbits? Afraid the water will make you grow into a full sized person?"

Rachel blushed brightly. "I- no. It's not like I can shower with the boys-"

"Sure you can! San and I used to do it all the time, before San started getting jealo-"

"You reek, Berry!" The Latina practically shrieked, elbowing her blonde companion on the side.

Hiding her knowing smile in fear of death, Rachel took to explaining herself. "The girls locker room is usually occupied by the wrestling team around this time and I would rather risk smelling bad than having the likes of Lauren Zizes disembowel me. I prefer to just shower at home."

Santana groans loudly. "Jesus Christ- I'm beyond bored with this conversation." She turns to Brittany with an annoyed expression. "Just say what you wanted to say to the midget and get it over with, Britts."

Brittany rolls her eyes at the girl's dramatics and wraps a patient arm around her moody brunette love. "We just came over here to tell you that we think you're totally foxy. And that you sang super good at the assembly." The blonde golf clapped briefly before Santana stopped her with a disapproving head shake.

Ignoring Santana look of disgust and denial, Rachel gave them a wide beaming grin. "That's very lovely of you to say! Thank you, Brittany." She was like Tinkerbell, she lived off of applause.

"You know what would be awesome? If you ate lunch with us tomorrow!" Brittany announced suddenly.

Santana turns to give the taller girl a nauseated look. "No. Nuh-uh. No ways in hell, Britts. That's like, social suicide."

"San..." Brittany wrapped her arms around the scowling latina and gave her a puppy dog look. "Please, baby," she whispered in the shorter girl's ear.

"Oh for the love of-" Santana turned to Rachel sharply and gave her a troubled once over. "Do you have your Letterman jacket yet?"

With a nervous gulp at the latina's glare, Rachel shook her head. "It's supposed to come this week, I believe," she mumbled sheepishly with a shrug. "I guess they don't get much orders for an extra small."

"Wear your football jersey tomorrow...and it better be goddamn clean, hobbit! You're eating lunch with us." Santana called out as she dragged a beaming Brittany away.

"Bye, Rachel!" The blonde cheerily exclaimed with a wave.

"And don't even think about wearing one of your horrific bow-ties tomorrow, Yentl!" The girl threatened as she turned back to shoot Rachel a disturbed look.

Rachel stood there slack jawed and numb.

I'm having lunch with Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce. I have to act like a normal human being and not make a total loser out of my self. Should be easy enough- just don't say anything embarrassing, avoid babbling, try to not have Santana lunged at you with a spork, and charm them with your extensive knowledge of all things Barbra Streisand, showtunes, classic cinema, and obscure video games-

Fuck, she was screwed.

III.

Oh, dear Moses.

She could do this- she was on a football with people who wanted to see her guts spilled out for everyone else to see for god's sake! Eating lunch with two of the most popular girls at school should not be making her as nervous as she was. Would Santana kill her for wearing suspenders today? Did the girl say not to wear them? Fuck, she couldn't remember-

Rachel almost dropped her tray. God, why were her hands shaking so much. Was it too late to go back out and have lunch with Sam in the AV room like usual? Sam was probably in there eating his stupid low calorie meal, still chuckling at her misfortune. Some best friend he was, lets see how much he'll be laughing at her funeral after Santana undoubtedly murders her. People were starting to stare as she stood stoically in the lunchroom, looking like she was about to head to her execution.

She blanched as Brittany caught sight of her, brightly waving her over.

"Over here, Rachel!" The half back ignored the confused looks people shot her way as she made herself over to where Brittany and Santana sat- in the middle of the cafeteria, aka - the perfect place to observe people and judge them harshly.

Setting her tray down, she gave them a shy smile. "Good afternoon, Brittany," she greeted. "Santana, you look quite lovely today." Santana did not look charmed, if anything the scowl on the girl's face seemed to deepen.

Flattery will get you nowhere.

Except killed? *gulp*

Gruesomely.

Oh, god.

"You look like you're about to shit your pants, midget," Santana stated as she stabbed a fork into her french fries.

Rachel winced at the motion. "I apologize for that, Santana. Sincerely. Which is the only type of apology I ever give, due largely to my fathers instilling quite the moral compass upon me from a very young age. " She babbled, much to the latina's revulsion. She quieted quickly as Santana snapped her fork in half in irritation.

Brittany smiled obliviously as she opened her pudding cup. "I like your suspenders," the girl said, licking excess pudding off the packaging. "Do you have some with ducks on them?"

"I- I can't say I do."

Good job. Stick to short and simple answers from now on. Santana looked to be on the verge of committing a very traumatic crime.

"I recommend you get some, I'd so make out with you if you did," the blonde says with a nonchalant shrug. "San would have to be there though, just to make sure you don't get frisky."

She didn't know if it was the murderous look Santana was shooting her, or Brittany's complete lack of filter, but Rachel, for the first time in her life, was rendered speechless.

"I've never even kissed anyone," Rachel said to herself-

-or so she thought.

Santana's expression of dangerous displeasure was wiped off, and the girl burst out into an obnoxiously cruel cackle. "Oh my god, Berry! You're beyond pathetic."

Kill me now.

Just bang your head on the table as hard as you can and put yourself out of your misery.

"I think it's cute." Brittany chirped, giving her a horrifying pat on the head.

"Q!" Santana grinned devilishly. "You're just in time for the circus!"

Rachel briefly wondered if the Latina could grin in any other-

-wait... Q?

Oh, no. Oh, god, please let it be another person who's name starts with a Q. The universe couldn't possibly as cruel as to have her crush witness her impending death by embarrassment.

"Hey, Quinn!" Brittany grinned brightly at the approaching hazel eyed blonde, much to Rachel internal panic. "This is Rachel and she's like, super weird," the tall blonde announced cheerily, causing the tiny halfback to pale.

"The universe is out to get me," Rachel mumbled, faltering as the blonde's piercing gaze shifted over to her. Her mouth went dry as she took in every detail of the Quinn's delicately confused face as the object of her affection regarded her silently.

Say something.

No, don't!

But-

May I remind you of the pen choking comment?

Deciding it would be less damaging to her already nonexistent ego if she didn't speak, Rachel settled for simply staring wide eyed at Quinn, blushing brightly. She watched as the girl set down her tray on the table with the grace of a princess and wondered how could a creature as dazzling as Quinn exist in a place as drab as Lima, Ohio-

- and good god, she was even more gorgeous up close.

"What a teenage dream," Rachel murmured to herself quietly, unable to stop herself.

Quinn turned to her look at her with an inquisitive look. "Did you say something?"

"I- I was just..." she puttered to come up with an excuse.

"Berry was just telling us all about her upper lady lips virginity." Santana announced with mirth, thankfully not hearing her comment.

She must be dead. Santana must of surely murdered her the minute she was close enough to their table, and now she was in hell. Because this seriously could not be happening. But then Quinn smiled in amusement and she realized that this couldn't possibly be hell - a beauty like Quinn's smile could surely not exist in a place of such depravity and horror...

-but then again, Santana was here. So...

Luckily she was saved from further distress.

Puck stalked to their table carrying two trays overfilled with junk food. She silently glowered as she watched the boy leer at Quinn suggestively, plopping his tray down on the table and flopped down in the seat next to the exasperated looking goddess.

"Leave, Puckerman. Some people are trying to eat, here." Santana snarled with a frightening scowl.

"Your face makes me wanna hurl," Brittany said with a dead serious expression.

The boy scoffs, running a hand through his barely there hair. "It's a free country," he shrugs. "I can sit wherever I want, and I wanna eat lunch with my favorite girl, so you can just go jump in a ditch, Satan."

Brittany frowns at the dig. "You should just like, grow out your mohawk, get dreadlocks, and then strangle yourself with them."

Santana beamed at the tall blonde, looking suddenly so in love. Rachel smirked in appreciation at the jab.

Puck rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to a despondent Quinn. "So hows about after I win us the game, you and me can hop on over to my place, I'll pick us up some wine coolers..."

"Noah Puckerman!"

Rachel couldn't help it. Anger surged through her as the boy so blatantly laid out his less than honorable intent to the girl of her dreams, right in fucking front of her!

The mohawked teen turned to her, seemingly just now noticing her presence.

"What in the hell?" Puck glanced around the table at the others in disbelief. "Since when do you guys sit with subbasement losers?"

"Rachel's not a loser," Brittany stated boldly. "She's on the football team, sings super sexy, and has like, a way better ass than you."

"No one asked for your opinion, ret-"

"I dare you to finish that sentence, Noah." Rachel growled, slamming her hands on the table loudly much to everyone's shock.

Puck smirked at her mockingly. "Yeah? What are you gonna do, Berry?"

In a surprising show of confidence, Rachel grins widely at the boy. "Other than humiliate the hell out of you at next week's game by making the winning touchdown? I'll tell your bubbeleh all about your appalling treatment of women after temple."

Grabbing his trays, Puck threateningly gets up from his seat and stands over her. "You're gonna regret trying to mess with me, Teammate," he spat out. Turning to Quinn, he gives another shameless glance over. "So, Q? How's about it?"

Quinn turns to him a look of disgust. "Are you an idiot?"

"Is that a yes?" he countered.

"Leave, Puck." Rachel grinned goofily to herself at the girl's response.

"Whatever you want, Babe." He swaggered away with one last wink in Quinn's direction, and a glare at Rachel's.

Santana sneered at the boy's back. "Fuckin' asshole," she muttered to herself.

She glances at Rachel, who had seemingly lost all her prior bravado, and was now back to staring bug eyed at Quinn's direction. It was as if she couldn't believe a mere mortal such as herself could be in the presence of someone like Quinn. It was above and beyond disgus-

-holy crap.

Being a closeted lesbian (and a judgmental bitch) fully equipped her with awesome gaydar, and Yentl was about as subtle as Jewfro whenever the weirdo tried to steal some of the cheerios' underwear- translation: not very.

Huh.

So, the geek's got the hots for the oblivious cheerleader.

How... freakin' charming.

Smirking to herself, she threw a french fry at the midget's forehead and bit back a laugh as the girl's eyes fluttered rapidly. "Not gonna lie, hobbit. That was kinda hot how you got all defensive like that."

"I so wanna make out with you right now," Brittany said to Rachel, grinning at the matching blushes that crept up on Rachel and Quinn's faces. She linked her pinky with her hostile companion and dragged her out of her seat. "Come with me to get a breath mint," she chirruped, pulling a gleaming Santana along with her.

The football player gulped as the brunette cheerleader winked back at her.

A happy Santana was just as terrifying, if not more, as an Angry Santana.

Rachel reached up to fiddle with her bow-tie nervously, only to drop her hands back down her lap when she remembered that she had forgone one today. Her mouth moved up and down wordlessly as she shyly stared down at her food. There were so many things she wanted to say to the girl sitting across from her, but god- the last thing she wanted to do was scare Quinn away with her weirdness.

Should I ask her about her day. People do that, right?

Too forward.

Yes, yes, how foolish. Make a comment about the weather?

Lame.

Compliment her? Girls love compliments, don't they?

Yes. But not from awkward lose-

"That was really nice of you," Quinn began, oblivious to Rachel's inner turmoil. "Standing up for Brittany like that." Rachel looked up and flushed brightly when she found the blonde smiling lightly at her, but she didn't look away. It was the first time Quinn's ever given her a smile, and it was glorious.

I'd gladly do it anytime if it makes you smile at me like that again. To hell with my physical safety.

Right on.

"Puck was being a jerk." She says instead, shrugging lamely, fiddling with her suspenders.

Quinn smiles bitterly. "He's always kind of a jerk."

Rachel doesn't reply, mostly because she couldn't of anything to say that didn't make her sound like the love sick idiot that she undoubtedly was for Quinn Fabray, and partly because the bell just rang signaling the end of lunch.

She stares up at the head cheerleader as the girl gets up from the table, turning crimson when she sees another flash of Quinn's red spanks.

God bless the perv who made those uniforms.

Truly, god bless him.

"I guess I'll see you at the game?" Rachel merely nods dumbly, unable to comprehend anything besides tracking the movement of Quinn's lips.

She could spend hours waxing poetics about those pretty pink lips.

"Rachel?" Her eyes snap up to Quinn's as the other bit her lip. She could not handle that seeing that, Jesus- she already felt like passing out just from being thisclose to the girl.

"Hmm?" She blinks.

"I'll be cheering for you." The blonde says with a shy smile. Then she turns away like she didn't completely just fucking give the dorky brunette the best day of her life...

"...Holy shit."

.

Song Used: Dear True Love by Sleeping At Last

Review? :)