Author's Notes: Now we're getting somewhere (still at a glacier's pace, though). As always, thanks go to Mike Ownby for being my Jaeger other brain, for picking out the Britishisms that still lurk inside (I blame the Harry Potter movie marathon), giving feedback on dialogue, and being an all-rounder in general beta work.
"Quinn!"
She quickens her pace, cursing her shoes for slowing her down. Already a chore to dance in, they're not doing much for her big dramatic storm-off. "Leave me alone, Rachel."
Quinn needs to get away. She spies the fire exit up ahead, and she quickens her pace, reaching for the handle –
– then Rachel materializes in front of her, forcing Quinn to jerk back before she inadvertently grabs something else that conveniently happened to be on the same level as the door handle.
"How did you – !"
"I can be very fast when sufficiently motivated," says Rachel seriously. Quinn doesn't doubt her. "Quinn, let me explain."
"There's no need to explain. I saw what I saw." She forces out a bitter laugh. "I'm happy for you guys."
"We were talking, and then Finn kissed me. I didn't kiss him back, even though I appreciated the drama of the situation –"
"– get on with it," snaps Quinn.
"I was going to break up with him."
"You were?"
Rachel frowns. "Am going to break up with him," she corrects herself. "I don't think I managed to get the words out before I was so rudely interrupted."
"Oh." Quinn doesn't know what to do with the information. "If you didn't want to kiss him, why'd you lie about it?" Because somehow, that hurts Quinn more than the kiss.
"I don't do well under pressure. I'm sorry." Rachel looks thoroughly chastened.
Quinn can't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "You're telling me that you, Miss I-Perform-Impromptu-Showtunes, don't do well under pressure?"
"That's different!" says Rachel hotly. "I was born for the stage. But you make me nervous. In a good way now." And she presses her lips together, looking pink in the face.
"That's not exactly the kind of thing a girl wants to hear," replies Quinn, only half-joking, trying desperately to tamp down her own sudden rush of nervousness.
"You're right," says Rachel quietly. "I'm really sorry – for letting him kiss me, and for attempting to lie about it. You deserve better than that."
"Whatever," says Quinn. "As long as you don't get in the habit of letting him kiss you. Imagine if he did that onstage during Nationals?"
"Don't even joke about that, Quinn," says Rachel with a shudder. "I have always stressed the importance of professional conduct." They fall into step, walking towards the green room where the rest of the club is waiting for their debrief.
"And since when does Finn actually listen to what you say?"
"Quinn," she admonishes. "He's a teenage boy, and members of the species aren't exactly known for their attentiveness and sensitivity." Rachel frowns. "Though you do have a point; Finn is especially obtuse. I think I deserve better in a life partner."
"Life partner? We're like – seventeen. Actually, I think you're twelve," adds Quinn, prompting an annoyed huff from Rachel.
"Hilarious. But yes, I have compiled a – admittedly non-exhaustive list – of traits I require in a life partner, of which Finn possessed only a number."
"I pity the future Mr Berry."
"Or Mrs Berry; I haven't ruled out marrying a woman," Rachel quips. "The gender of the person I will spend the rest of my life with is irrelevant; there are more important things, like their ability to remember all the lyrics to La Vie Boheme."
Quinn starts to laugh, then stops when it slowly dawns upon her that Rachel isn't joking. "Wait, you're serious?"
Rachel huffs. "Of course I am, Quinn; I would not joke about how important a deep and intimate knowledge of one of the greatest modern musicals of our time is."
"Ohhkay…" Quinn makes a rolling motion with her hand, now her go-to gesture for when she needs Rachel to get on with making her point. "We kinda got off track. So you're breaking up with Finn because he doesn't meet all your requirements of a, uh, life partner?"
"It's very important that the person I'm dating can be completely honest with me," says Rachel quietly. "I used to think that the most important things about the person I dated would be physical – not like that, wipe that smirk off your face, Fabray – like possessing leading man charisma or being physically attractive. Or even just being there for me as a simple comforting presence when I've had a bad day instead of pressuring me for intimacy – "
"– he what?" Quinn exclaims, suddenly serious.
"Rest assured it was a one-time event that he profusely apologized for and was suitably contrite afterwards."
"Boys," growls Quinn. She'd resolved to stay away from Finn after their last conversation, but now she's sorely tempted to go yell at him some more.
Rachel shrugs. "That's in the past. I have resolved that my future life partner will be someone who fulfills my emotional needs, and I for them. Whether those needs mean watching a bad movie together or defending me from my detractors or supporting me in my career aspirations or – many more things than I can think of at the moment."
"And what does all this have to do with me trying to leave, and you stopping me?"
"I wanted to set the record straight: Finn and I are over. What you saw was a complete misrepresentation of my current relationship status with him."
"You could've saved yourself ten minutes by saying something like, Finn and I are donezo."
Rachel wrinkles her nose, looking disgusted. "I would never use such crude parlance, thank you very much. Donezo? Is that even a word?"
"It could be," says Quinn nonchalantly. She's feeling like there's a weight off her shoulders. Despite everything, she believes Rachel.
Rachel scoffs, shaking her head, but Quinn can see that she's smiling.
"I can hear you thinking. Please don't make a comment about my SAT vocabulary, or my Scrabble prowess."
"I wasn't – I think at this point it goes without saying," huffs Rachel.
Quinn rolls her eyes, smirking.
A quick and brief text, an equally terse reply, and just like that, she and Sam have a date. Or, more precisely, they're meeting just to talk. She doesn't like how it sounds so ominous, but that's all there is.
Before she can ask Hiram to babysit, he's already nodding at her.
"Of course I will."
"Thanks," she says, abashed. "I wouldn't be asking, but Rachel's done plenty, and I don't want to put her out."
"Rachel's meeting Finn tonight as well, I believe."
She knows parental disapproval when she hears it. "She is?"
"Finn's a sweet boy, but he's…" Hiram shrugs in lieu of completing the thought.
"– A dumb, selfish asshole," snaps Quinn, "and that about sums it up."
Hiram tuts. "I was going to say malleable. He doesn't have the backbone to stand up to Rachel when she gets carried away. I love my daughter, but I'm fully aware she can be ridiculously stubborn." He pauses. "She gets that from me."
Quinn decides not to comment.
"Once she's set her mind to something, no matter how ridiculous it is, Finn will probably go along with it. Even something as ludicrous as trying to get married before graduating high school."
"Rachel would never do something as drastic as that," says Quinn, aghast. "She's been going on and on about Broadway and stardom forever. She'd never give that up for a relationship."
He pats Quinn's hand. "You're very sweet to say so, dear, but I know my daughter."
"... No."
Hiram blinks in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"You know Rachel better than I do, so shouldn't you be supportive of her? Like, she can be overbearing and obnoxious and stupidly stubborn, but she's the kindest person I have ever known. As her dad, you should trust her. And if you don't, that doesn't make you any better than my own dad." And Quinn catches herself because she's telling off one of Rachel's fathers, one of two men who have been looking after her. She feels a little sick to her stomach. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
When Sam shows up, it's with a peace offering of a chocolate milkshake from McDonald's; one of her favorite guilty indulgences when she was pregnant. Quinn has no idea how he knows, and even the familiar taste doesn't do anything to assuage her uneasiness.
"Hey."
"Hey."
She's so tense. It's funny how she keeps getting herself into these situations, but at least Quinn's becoming accustomed to handling herself in awkward conversations; a skill she's certain will come in handy as an adult.
"So, um – "
"I just wanted to – "
They start talking at the same time, cutting themselves off with awkward laughter. "Go on," says Quinn.
"You were saying something."
"So were you."
Sam shrugs. "Damn, this is tough."
"I'll start, then." She takes a deep breath. "Thanks for showing up at Sectionals. We – I – would've understood if you didn't, but you did. For us. I appreciate that."
"I'm just glad it turned out fine. Guess avoiding Glee wasn't my smartest decision ever," he says ruefully. "I am so not looking forward to the words Rachel promised she'd have with me." And Sam looks so genuinely terrified that Quinn can't hide her smile.
"Don't take it to heart. She's all bark and no bite."
"Yeah, I'll try to keep that in mind when I next see her." Sam sighs. "I meant it, y'know."
She knows exactly what he's talking about, and it scares her. "Meant what?" Quinn lies through her teeth.
"That you're beautiful." He smiles ruefully. "That's what snapped me out of my whole funk, y'know; that you having a kid doesn't change the fact that you're still the same Quinn that watches Star Wars with me and has this awesome sense of humor."
Quinn doesn't know how to respond. It seems strange how someone she barely knows has managed to grasp a fact which her parents couldn't, that she herself struggled for weeks to accept.
"So, I don't wanna break up," continues Sam, oblivious to her internal turmoil. "Your kid's not a dealbreaker for me."
"Thank you," answers Quinn carefully.
"We could go back to normal? If you want. I get that it could be a little weird for us, but I'd really like it if we tried." Sam lapses into silence, watching Quinn warily.
Now's her chance. She could turn him down without needing to give voice to all the twisted feelings she's been harboring. She could end this with minimal hurt to his feelings, without leading him on longer than she already has. She could give her heart a break and focus on herself instead of jumping from relationship to relationship.
But Quinn opens her mouth and says, "I'd like that."
When Quinn comes home, she's surprised to find the Berry family member holding her baby isn't Hiram, but Rachel, who looks up from the TV when she approaches.
"Hey," she says, bouncing Beth, "you're home early."
"I thought you were out," says Quinn stupidly.
"I was. But now I'm home. Daddy was babysitting but I offered to take over because it's been a while since he and Dad had a date night."
"What about Finn?"
Rachel makes a face. "The less said about that, the better. How about you and Sam?"
"Same. Wait, why'd you say I'm home early? Have you been timing my dates?"
"No! I merely noticed you usually come home after Bethy and I have watched two DVDs – I think I had better stop talking before I incriminate myself further. This conversation does not paint me in a positive light."
Quinn rolls her eyes, but offers Rachel a small smile.
Rachel pats the seat beside her. "We're halfway through a scintillating episode of Dora the Explorer. Would you like to join us?"
"She's too young to appreciate Dora, y'know."
"Retaining information, Quinn," says Rachel. "I believe we've discussed this." She shoots Quinn a mischievous sideways smile. "I think you could do with more Baby Mozart yourself."
Quinn makes sure to pay Rachel back by deliberately bumping her as she sits down, smirking when she receives a tiny outraged squeak of protest. "Are you sure you aren't using Beth as an excuse to watch Dora yourself?"
Rachel gasps. "What an outrageous allegation to make. I would choose my next words very carefully, Fabray, or you might end up singing Barney songs at Regionals."
"Fine." They watch Dora in silence before Quinn says: "You didn't have to do this, you know."
"I know," says Rachel breezily. "But how could I possibly pass up an opportunity to spend some quality time with this cutie?"
Beth yawns. Rachel passes the baby to Quinn, who stares transfixed at her.
The couch shifts, breaking the spell, and Quinn glances around in surprise. "Rachel? Where are you going?"
"You're home now, and I don't want to interrupt your bonding time…"
Quinn huffs indignantly. "Don't be stupid, Rachel. You're not interrupting anything; she's not old enough to tell the difference anyway. Come back here, I've put you out enough already tonight." She glances at the television, where Dora is watching her expectantly. It's a little creepy. "Only if we watch something else. Beth's not getting anything out of Dora, and it's a little too… interactive, for my tastes."
Rachel's face lights up. "I could put on a musical!"
"Rachel, no."
But she's already dashed upstairs, yelling "I'll be right back!", presumably to fetch a DVD from her room. Quinn sighs, but doesn't actually feel annoyed. "Rachel's crazy, isn't she?" she addresses Beth, who gurgles contentedly.
That night, for some reason or another, Beth has trouble sleeping; Quinn thinks she might be picking up on her mother's anxiety.
"Don't you start," sighs Quinn as she bounces the fussing infant. "I've got enough going on without your input." She shifts Beth to one side, freeing up a hand so she can open the door.
"How do you always know when she's crying?" asks Quinn by way of greeting when Rachel walks in. "I thought your room was soundproofed."
"My hearing is just as impressive as my voice." Rachel coos softly at the baby, clucking her tongue. "What's eating you, my baby girl?" she directs at Beth.
"The usual, I guess," grunts Quinn. "Life, growing up. Watching Cats."
"In my defense, Quinn, it was based on nursery rhymes. I thought it would be amusing for her; I see now that I was wrong."
Despite her exhaustion, Quinn smiles. "It's not every day I hear Rachel Berry admitting she's wrong."
"Don't get used to it," says Rachel with a tight smile. "Now, are you going to let me sing to my Bethy, or am I going to leave you to your suffering?"
It doesn't take long to make a decision. "I can't believe you always can get her to sleep," says Quinn, handing the baby over.
Rachel smiles faintly. "To be perfectly honest with you, Quinn, neither can I. My dads – as much as they love me – do frequently joke that since I don't know the meaning of being quiet, I would find it impossible to teach anyone to do so."
Quinn chooses to ignore the obvious jab. "I guess, but she really likes it when you sing. I mean – every baby I know likes music, but Beth seems like she can tell the difference in voices."
"Perhaps you should sing to her more. I'm certain she would appreciate it more since you're her mom." Rachel purses her lips. "I know I would have wanted Shelby to do that for me."
Quinn shakes her head. She refuses to get into any discussion of Shelby Corcoran. "We've already established that she likes you better."
"We haven't established anything. You're clearly delusional, there's no way Beth would prefer me over you."
"You spend a lot of time with her too," Quinn points out. "You like her. As in, you like babies, don't you?"
"I… of course I do. I am a girl, Quinn, contrary to whatever you and Santana enjoy speculating on. I'm fairly certain that a maternal instinct is hardwired into our genetics. Not to mention that taking care of her could be… a formative experience or something."
Quinn snorts. "The more I talk to you, the more I'm convinced you're actually a robot who kidnapped the real Rachel Berry."
"That's absurd. There's simply no room in this house to hide a secret cell."
"You say that like you've actually gone over the blueprints – never mind, forget I asked," she sighs.
Topping off an already shitty week is Puck's return.
She walks into Glee to see him sitting there like he never left, and Quinn's mood immediately sours. Beside her, she can sense Rachel stiffen.
Puck, however, doesn't look at her. He sits silently, arms crossed over his chest, until Mr Schue calls the club meeting to order and asks for performers.
"I'd like to sing a song, Mr Schue," he says.
The man looks confused. "Okay, Puck."
Quinn doesn't know what to make of it – until he pulls up a chair to the front of the room and parks himself in it, guitar in his lap, and launches into Bruno Mars' When I Was Your Man.
A muscle pulses in Quinn's jaw. She sits, tense with barely-concealed rage.
The club seems a little subdued today, presumably from the tension radiating from Rachel and Finn (who is glaring at the whiteboard as though it personally offended him), and from Quinn watching Puck. Mr Schue, seemingly sensing he isn't going to be able to get anything done today, wraps up Glee early.
Quinn snatches up her bag and marches over to where Puck's standing. "Okay," she says. "You've got my attention. What do you want?"
He raises both hands in a defensive gesture. "Whoa, easy."
"You can hardly blame me for being on edge; I doubt we've managed to have a civil conversation for the past two years."
"Okay, I get that." He glances around; Tina and Artie immediately pretend to be engrossed in conversation. "Do you wanna go elsewhere?"
Quinn shakes her head. "I'm not planning on dragging this out. Just say what you need to say."
"Look, I just wanted to say… I spent my time in juvie thinking about my life choices, and I didn't like a lot of them. So I wanted to apologize for being an ass. And I was hoping I could be in Beth's life." He hesitates. "Both your lives."
"Puck."
"We could be a family for real," he says softly, and it's very, very difficult not to be reminded of what she first saw in him, what feels like ages ago. "All I'm asking for is one last chance."
Quinn's mouth twists. They've had so many false starts and missed opportunities; too many for her to overlook. "I'm sorry, Puck. You're right; you're her dad, and she deserves to get to know you the same way you deserve to be a part of her life. But I don't feel anything more for you than that."
He sighs deeply. "That's fair."
"I'm sorry."
"Nah, you can't help what you feel." Puck hesitates. "Sam's a lucky guy."
Her mouth twists automatically, mirroring her gut, but Quinn smooths her expression out, nodding at him. "I'll text you. We can work out a day for you to come over."
"I'd like that," Puck says, very seriously; so seriously that Quinn does a double take. He ruins it a moment later when he grins at her. "You're telling me that the song did nothing for you? That's a huge blow to my ego."
"And there it is," sighs Quinn, but she's smiling. "You almost had me convinced."
"Hey, can't blame me for trying, right?"
"No. I guess not."
She can already see Rachel pacing in the parking lot in front of the school. "So," says Rachel, "do I need to have words with Mr Puckerman?"
Quinn's first reaction is to laugh. "God, it's not what you're thinking, Berry."
"And what am I thinking, Quinn?"
"He wants to be a part of Beth's life, that's all. I'm certainly not thinking about getting back together with him; that ship has long since sailed."
Rachel visibly relaxes. "Oh. That's good to hear. I was concerned that Noah and I might have to have a little chat."
"You sound like a mafioso."
Much to her surprise, Rachel just laughs at her. "Don't be ridiculous, Quinn; if I truly wanted to scare Noah, I would threaten his precious male anatomy. I find physical threats more effective than words with him."
"You'd threaten him if I asked you to?"
Rachel smiles. "Yes. Isn't that what friends do?"
No, that isn't what friends do, thinks Quinn, but she presses her lips together. "I guess," she says.
"Wonderful. And now, let's go home; it's Indian night tonight, and I must confess, I have been craving samosas all week."
"Berry, you are such a freak, that's hardly something confession-worthy."
"Not all of us live exciting lives and actually have juicy secrets to confess, Fabray." Rachel actually elbows her, grinning.
"I must've missed the memo. Trust me, if I had juicy secrets, confessing would be the last thing on my mind."
From the way Rachel's expression stills, Quinn knows Puck is behind her. She turns around in time to see him slip out of the school and into his truck with a general wave in their direction.
"Can I ask you a question?" Rachel asks, not looking at her. "This is gonna sound really intrusive, but – "
"– ask me," she says tiredly.
"Are you thinking of getting back with Noah?"
"No. Definitely not, and it has nothing to do with Sam," she adds, and Rachel closes her mouth. Quinn thinks over her next words. "It's not fair to cut him out of Beth's life; she wouldn't be here without him. The two of us making a mistake shouldn't have to ruin her life. He wasn't the best person when I was pregnant, but I wasn't wonderful either. I… I had to do a lot of thinking, a lot of growing up over the past year."
"I know that whatever your plans were, you're smart and capable enough to make it work."
Quinn nods, acknowledging the sentiment. "I did think about marrying Puck so we could raise her together, but I don't have any feelings for him, and I definitely don't see him as anything more than Beth's dad. We would've been miserable if I'd tried to make him and me work." She pauses. "I think I'm finally happy. Or getting there."
"Well, I'm happy that you're happy," says Rachel. "And I know we'll both be happier after samosas."
Quinn cackles, swatting half-heartedly at Rachel.
Lydia greets her warmly, pushing the bowl of candy closer. "How are you doing?"
"Fine. I guess." Quinn takes a boiled sweet from the dish, squinting at it. "Really?" she asks, holding up the sweet.
"I like traditional British candy," replies Lydia perfectly seriously.
Quinn unwraps it and puts it in her mouth, wincing as sour lime prickles the inside of her mouth. Eventually, it's replaced by sweetness. She sucks on the candy, keeping her eyes fixed on the notepad on Lydia's desk.
"Anything happened this week that you wanted to talk about?"
"We won Sectionals."
Lydia nods. "Congratulations. I know all of you worked very hard, so that's a well-deserved victory."
"More like, we won in spite of Sam and Finn," Quinn says.
"Sam? The boy you're dating?"
"Sort of."
Lydia flips through her notes. "I believe Finn was the boy you dated last year?"
"Yeah." Quinn's upper lip curls. "He's dating Rachel now."
Lydia spares her a long and calculating look before she shuts her notepad. "At the risk of sounding like a cliched shrink, how does that make you feel?"
"I don't have to answer if I don't want to, right?"
"Of course," Lydia says, "but the more you share, the more you potentially get out of therapy. As pleasant as it is to share candy and companionable silences, I want to help you, Quinn, and the best way I can do that is if you take that first step and let me help you help yourself."
Quinn purses her lips. "I didn't care, honestly," she says. "About Finn and Rachel. I didn't really like him in the first place; it was all about the popularity. He was the quarterback of the football team and I was head Cheerio, so it made sense for us to date."
If Lydia's thrilled that Quinn's talking, she doesn't show it. "But something's changed."
"I guess," says Quinn, not sounding convincing, even to her own ears. "He's been such a fucking asshole recently. Sorry."
Lydia shrugs. "Please don't apologize for being honest. You don't need to moderate yourself here. Actually, I think now would be a good time to establish a few rules for us."
"Rules?"
"Guidelines. I want you to feel comfortable talking to me, and that means you should always have the right to tell me to shut up. I mean it," she adds, laughing a little at Quinn's shocked expression, "this is a safe space."
"Similarly," Lydia continues, "as this is a safe space, I want you to be comfortable speaking your mind. You don't need to censor yourself, or feel scared of expressing certain opinions. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if I'm being a nosy bitch."
Quinn gasps.
Lydia's expression grows serious. "But I want you to know that this isn't a free pass for sharing hateful opinions that have no relation to our sessions, mind you. This is a safe space for your feelings alone. I trust that you understand what hateful means."
Quinn nods hesitantly.
"Now then, you were saying? Why do you think Finn's been such a fucking asshole lately?"
She can't help the nervous, almost giddy, laugh that bubbles up. "He lied to her about sleeping with our mutual friend. Twice. She was trying to be completely honest about their past history, she told him everything about hers, asked him again, and he lied. Again. And he's such a guy, he doesn't treat her the way she should be treated, he just expects her to be okay with everything he decides for them, and he's so fucking inconsiderate. Like, she's vegan, and he always fucking forgets. I've known that since last year, and I wasn't even her friend then."
She knows she's ranting by the end.
Lydia nods carefully. "You're a good friend."
"I'm not even an okay friend. I'm like – I'm still a massive bitch to her sometimes, and she just forgives me. Who does that? At first I thought she was just gonna collect ammo to sink my reputation at school, but she didn't. Or whatever reputation I had left."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but… you didn't like Finn in the beginning, but you like him even less because of how he treats Rachel?"
"I guess," says Quinn, crossing her arms, then changing her mind and reaching for another piece of candy – butterscotch this time.
Lydia gives her a soft smile. "You're a good friend to Rachel."
"You don't understand," snaps Quinn. "I joined Glee last year so I could keep an eye on Finn because Rachel was trying to steal him away, and the idiot was letting her. We have history over Finn and we're only friends now because she insisted on me staying with her."
"But you're not interested in taking Finn back?"
Quinn shudders. "God, no. That ship has sailed. Never happening."
"Why not?"
"He's an idiot who's still a kid in a giant body, with tantrums to match," sneers Quinn. "He wouldn't know tact if it bit him on the nose, and to top it all off, he's thicker than two planks nailed together."
Lydia nods thoughtfully. "So you're not romantically interested in Finn because of his personal qualities, and the way he treats Rachel."
"I guess so, yeah."
"Not because you're dating Sam?"
She blinks. "That goes without saying, right?"
"Not really."
Quinn decides she doesn't like the expression on Lydia's face. "Sam has nothing to do with what I think of Finn."
"You're absolutely right." Lydia leans back in her seat. And yet, despite her agreement, Quinn feels like she's come off the loser.
"Oh, and the father of my baby asked to be a part of our lives again."
One of Lydia's eyebrows go up. "Goodness, you're popular," she remarks, making Quinn laugh.
"No shit."
"What did you tell him?"
"As long as he acts like her dad, he's welcome to be a part of Beth's life. I owe him that much. But I don't have any romantic feelings for him – never have, to be honest." She hesitates. "Whatever happened between us… I don't regret it, but I wish I could've done things differently. Does that make sense?"
Lydia nods. "Perfectly. That's very mature of you, Quinn."
She laughs bitterly. "Thanks. I've done plenty of growing up lately."
"Quinn, I was wondering if I could speak with you?"
"Go for it," says Quinn wearily. She pushes away her History homework.
"Well… my daddy – Hiram – was telling me about a conversation he had with you."
At this point, Quinn's past all the anxiety and walking-on-eggshells. "Okay."
"I wanted to… " she trails off unexpectedly, pink in the face.
Quinn can't believe her eyes. Rachel Berry, shy and lost for words. She waits, hoping she doesn't look as confused as she feels.
"You stood up for me, to my own daddy," says Rachel at last, looking flustered and shocked and so happy it's painful to see.
"He told you?"
"He did. He seemed really proud of you."
Sometimes, Quinn thinks she would like to meet more of their extended family, if only to see how crazy the rest of the Berry bush is. "... Proud of me… for telling him off…?"
Rachel laughs. "My dads are very particular about standing up for what we believe in. I think you know that's a prominent aspect of my personality."
"Yeah, you have no chill," agrees Quinn. "But seriously? He's not mad?"
"Quinn, why would he be mad?"
"You're not supposed to talk back to adults."
Rachel frowns. "Well, now, that's just an inherently flawed concept. Adulthood doesn't mean one is above reprimand, the same way being a teenager doesn't mean we don't have anything worth saying. It says a lot about a person if they're able to accept genuine criticism."
"You obviously haven't met my Grandmother Fabray. She's always saying children should be seen and not heard."
"Well," is all Rachel can say, sounding frostier than a blizzard. "She sounds… pleasant."
"Yeah, like a hole in the head."
Rachel giggles. "May I hug you?"
"What for?"
"I'm allowed to enjoy hugging you." Rachel holds out her arms. "Don't leave your vocal coach and baby singer extraordinaire hanging."
Quinn makes a show of putting her arms around Rachel mechanically, knowing it'll annoy the shorter girl. Which doesn't take long until Rachel is harrumphing and squeezing Quinn tightly.
Dates with Sam don't vary much. He picks her up, they get takeout and go somewhere to eat it. Today, it's stir-fry from the local Asian (Quinn's recommendation) and the overlook that has a great view of the town.
It's their first "normal" date since… well, everything, and Quinn can't get rid of the uneasiness she feels.
"You okay?"
She nods, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just a little tired."
Sam frowns. "I can take you home if you want."
"No, I'm fine."
"If you're sure." He puts an arm around her shoulders and is already leaning in before she figures out what he's trying to do. All she can see is Rachel kissing Finn; Quinn closes her eyes, willing herself not to flinch.
"Quinn?"
"I'm sorry," she says, her heart feeling like it's pounding out of her chest.
"Are you sure you're okay? You've been acting pretty weird lately…" Sam has a furrowed expression. "Is it the kissing? Are we moving too fast…?"
"It's not you, it's me," says Quinn, cringing internally. "I've got a lot of stuff going on right now."
He makes this strange snorting sound. "Quinn, our relationship survived you telling me you have a kid and that you guys live with Rachel Berry. I think I can handle whatever stuff you've got going on. Besides," continues Sam, "I would be a pretty crappy boyfriend if I wasn't supportive of your stuff."
"I…" And this is her chance (the latest of many, she thinks ruefully) to break the cycle, to be completely honest up front. "Sam, I do like you, but I don't like you the way I'm supposed to. And I'm sorry, but I can't do this."
"Do what? Kiss me?" Sam looks crushed.
"No, I… all of it. All of this, with you," she says, gesturing between them. "I can't do all this."
"All this what?"
"This – being with you." Quinn's stomach roils. "I'm sorry."
"But you – you said we could go back to normal." His voice is petulant now.
"I know, and I wanted that too, but…" Quinn clenches her hands in the hem of her dress. "I can't keep lying to us both."
"Quinn, I get that things between us are still kinda weird, but are you really not giving us a chance?"
"I'm sorry, Sam," she repeats.
The furrowed look on his face stays in place. "I don't get it. I thought we were cool and all, like – you literally said we could go back to normal."
"I know what I said. I like you, Sam, but no matter how I try, I don't like you like girls are supposed to like guys. I don't want to kiss you."
"...oh." Sam's brow suddenly clears. "are you saying that you're – "
"– please don't say it," snaps Quinn.
Sam jerks backwards, and Quinn regrets being so harsh. "Oh. Okay."
She sighs. "No, I'm sorry. I've never – I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
"You're doing okay, I think," ventures Sam cautiously. "I think if it was me wanting to kiss boys instead of girls, I'd be freaking out."
Quinn stares at him. "Like I'm not freaking out right now? God, you're the nicest boy I've ever dated but when I'm out here with you I don't want to kiss you, or hold your hand, or whatever. I don't feel anything, no matter how hard I want to."
"Okay? I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment?"
"It's not."
His shoulders slump. "Oh."
"I'm sorry," she says, dropping her gaze.
"Yeah… you know, I'd rather you be honest with me, like you've been all this while… But seriously. How do you know you're – you-know-what?"
"Really? No, never mind," says Quinn. "I don't know. All I know is that you're a great guy. You're cute, sweet, funny, and I know you'll make some other girl really happy. I'm just sad that she isn't me."
"This is really fucked up because you have, like, Beth."
Quinn's lip curls. "She doesn't count. I was drunk, and Puck's an idiot."
"Gotcha." Sam's furrowed expression clears. "Hang on a sec. You said you didn't feel anything for the guys you've dated? Does that mean you feel something for girls?"
"I don't know. I've never kissed a girl before."
"You should totally do that," says Sam.
"Excuse me?"
"Kiss a girl to be sure." His face falls. "Though I guess I won't be your wingman. Not gonna lie, I'm still a little bummed that we're breaking up. Like – we are breaking up, right? 'Cause it would be weird if we were still dating even if you don't like me the same way I like you. And I really, really like you."
She stares, gaping openly at him, too shocked even to form words. "I… I'm sorry?"
"It's… yeah, it's just weird," says Sam, scrubbing at his hair until some of the shorter strands stand on end. "I thought you having a kid was already enough weird to be dealing with. I don't really know what to say."
"Neither do I."
"I'm a little mad at you, though," he says with such seriousness that it makes Quinn blink in surprise. "It really sucks that you just waited 'til the last minute to say all this stuff. First with Beth, then with this. It's like you don't care about my feelings at all? Like if you think I'm so nice, why couldn't you be honest with me?"
She feels so guilty then. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. You're right; I should've been honest with you right from the beginning. But I really wanted to try this, being with you, because that's what you deserve. But I ended up leading you on, and I'm sorry that happened."
Sam nods. "Okay, I get that. Still bummed, though."
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
He laughs awkwardly. "I don't know. I shouldn't be so nice, I think, but I really like you, and I want you to be happy."
"That's it?"
"Yeah. Should it be complicated?"
"I don't know, but I can't believe it's that easy."
He shrugs. "Some things have to be easy, otherwise life would be way too problematic. But yeah, I think I should drive you home now. It sucks that we're breaking up, but I hope we can be friends later because there is literally no other person who will watch Star Wars with me." He frowns. "Unless you were pretending to like it?"
"I wasn't! I don't quite understand why you love it so much, though. It's just… complicated."
Sam sighs. "Maybe we'll try Spiderman next time."
"Next time?" Quinn asks disbelievingly.
"Like, I'm really hoping there'll be a next time," he says with a sheepish smile.
Quinn nods. "Me too," she says thickly.