Hi everyone. Thank you for all of the lovely comments and responses to the last chapter.

Chapter Twenty-nine: Stuck In The Middle With You

The candles started acting strangely, the flames streaming towards her and as Rachel scooted away in alarm her eyes fell on the tall, shadowy figure in the open doorway. She screamed and Quinn's expression of frantic panic changed to one of an acute headache sufferer.

"Why, if it isn't Easy-bake!Barbie and her girlfriend, Skipper the Singing Midget. I thought I caught the revolting smell of teen romance in here. Ladies, that pilfered towel you are using for your sordid lesbian tryst is worth more than the two of you combined so I suggest you get up off of it, put out those sickly sweet fire hazards and get back to class!"

"Barbie and Skipper were sisters," Quinn said as she stood up; her hands were shaking. "And Rachel and I are only friends."

"I honestly don't know if you are lying to me, or lying to yourself, but lucky for you I don't care. Detention; the both of you. Straight after school in the gym, so I suggest you dress appropriately."

"We can't, we have Glee," Rachel said shooting quickly to her feet beside Quinn.

"Glee is a privilege, not a right, sister, and when you skipped class and stole from my Cheerios you forfeited all privileges."

"I'm pregnant, you to make me do anything strenuous."

"It's a pity you didn't worry about that when you were hiding it from me for weeks and putting my entire competition season in jeopardy. Both of you will be there or I'll be forced to make it a Saturday morning detention which - as you probably don't know because you're both usually so goody-two shoes it's pathetic - requires a letter being sent home to your parents detailing your offence."

Rachel watched fresh panic flash in Quinn's eyes, saw her throat work convulsively as she clenched her jaw to try and remain defiant, and answered for both of them, "We'll be there this afternoon."

"That's what I thought." With a cool smile Coach Sylvester stepped back against the door to give them room to pass. "Now go back to wherever it is you're supposed to be."

They left in silence; avoiding eye-contact with the coach.

"I guess we forgot to lock the door," she began quietly when they were far enough down the corridor to have some privacy. Quinn didn't say anything. "Maybe detention won't be so bad; at least we'll still be spending time with each other. We just have to look at it as an alternative kind of play date; like when you go rock climbing instead of out for a romantic meal because you want to put the spark back into your . . . um, friendship."

"Everyone in Glee is going to see that we're not there and they're going to find out we have a detention together."

Rachel simply nodded, knowing it was true.

"They're going to want to know what we did wrong and why we were doing it together."

"We can try telling them it's none of their business?"

Quinn rounded on in her in the empty hall. "Can we tell Finn that? Because don't you think he might be, oh, just a little bit interested in why we were even in the same place at the same time; let alone the full extent of it."

"You could tell him we're sort of friends now. It's the truth, isn't it? And it would make it easier for all of us if Finn."

"Oh, my God!" Quinn turned on her heel and started walking again. "Can you not make everything about progressing our friendship to the next freaking level like it's some kind of computer game. No one is going to believe we're just friends, not now, they'll think we're covering for something more."

"But we're not!"

"Welcome to the irony."

"Okay, okay." Rachel held her hands up as she tried to calm them both down. "Nobody will find out until Glee starts, right? We can come up with something to tell them during Plan C."

Quinn shook her head, "Plan C's cancelled."

"But Quinn!"

"No, Rachel. Mike, Finn, Puck and Mercedes are all in Biology with us. We can't risk sitting together in front of all of them now. I'm going to have to turn up on time and sit where I usually do, next to Finn."

"Fine! So when are we going to collaborate on a story?"

"I'll think of something."

"Am I right in assuming it will be a 'something' that you'll be apologising for later?"

Quinn's expression was somewhere between annoyed at the comment and frustrated with the situation. "Let's just get through this without everything coming out and then maybe I'll decide if I want to apologize or not. This is my stop. See you in detention."

Rachel watched her disappear into the Spanish room and then despondently made her way back to her own class.

She heard the excuse they were going with in sixth period Biology, albeit indirectly.

From two desks behind her Finn's voice began to rise over the quiet classroom murmurs "But why were you even . . .?"

"I was feeling sick, Finn, I was on my way to the nurses office and I stopped to get some water. I didn't plan it."

"Morning sickness still bothering you, Q?" Noah quietly asked.

Quinn snapped. "Is that any business of yours?"

"Bitch!"

"But if you were just getting water?" Finn asked, "How did that get you a detention?"

"My favourite stalker had a bathroom pass and decided to stop for a chat," Quinn said, voice coated in sarcasm. "I told her to leave me alone, she refused, yelling happened and Coach Sylvester heard us . . . or me, seeing as I was doing most of the yelling. She gave us both detention on the spot. Now I have to miss Glee club to do laps around the gym, but hey, it's not all bad because so does Berry and it's going to suck way more for her. Especially if Coach leaves us alone for a few minutes."

The tone of the threat probably chilled any other eavesdroppers to their core; it did something completely different (and inappropriate) to Rachel's core.

When the conversation behind her was over she accidentally caught Mercedes' eye who was sitting a desk over from her – because Heaven forbid even if they both happened to be sitting alone that they would actually sit together! "It wasn't as bad as Quinn's making out."

It was true, but hopefully she was projecting enough embarrassment and guilt for Mercedes to be dubious and of course it worked because Mercedes was always dubious of her.

"So I'm going to assume you heard most of that in Biology?" Quinn said as she stepped out of her dress.

They were changing two benches apart in case anyone walked in on them, but they were alone now and talking freely.

"I did."

"Do I need to apologize?"

"No. Your story was perfect. It gave us a valid excuse without painting me in a particularly bad light. I mean, as far as everyone is concerned I'm madly in love with you, so it's only natural and not even that objectionable that I would want to stop and make sure you were okay if you were indeed feeling unwell."

Quinn nearly ripped her gym shorts as she tried stepping into them and sat down heavily on the bench to try again. "Madly in love?"

"It's just a role, Quinn."

They had their backs to each other and she wasn't going to look but she would swear she heard Rachel chuckle as she said that. Things had changed a lot between them over the past couple of months but she still didn't like Rachel getting cocky on her . . . unless she could match it.

"Is it? Really?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

She took a deep breath and pulled on her red McKinley High t-shirt. "Maybe I do."

"Okay." Rachel hesitated. "Is there a place between liking a lot and love?"

"I guess," she said slowly.

"What is it called?"

Quinn closed her eyes, smiled, shook her head and then thought to hell with it. "This?"

"That's what I suspected."

They both jumped when the door slammed open. "Ladies, you should have been in the gym twenty seconds ago! I'm already mentally dictating those letters to your parents."

Quinn ran to the door with Rachel only a pace behind.

In the gym they were faced with what could only be the aftermath of a tornado. Tangled ribbons, dirty pompoms, broken batons, filthy tennis shoes, and huge knots of skipping ropes were strewn around the floor.

"After taking into consideration what you said about your unholy state, Q, I realized you were right, I can't make you run suicides for an hour. That would be child abuse! Not to mention if I made this one," she indicated Rachel with a dismissive flick of her wrist," run them for five minutes I'd probably end up with a homicide charge on my hands. So I took the liberty of having the Cheerios bring everything out of the spares cupboard in here for the two of you to clean and repair."

Quinn groaned while Rachel just looked confused.

"There's hot water in that bucket over there; along with cleaning supplies and rags and here is an economy-sized tube of my favourite industrial strength super glue. This is the exact same stuff that they used to build the Empire State Building so use it wisely and use it sparingly. Do not fool around with it. If you get it on your clothes, that's your own look-out, but if you get it on my gymnasium floor there will be dire consequences." The coach paused long enough to make sure her words had sunk in. "I'll be back in an hour."

Once they were alone, Quinn surveyed the mess and let out another groan. This was going to take forever, but luckily Quinn knew what the priorities should be. "We should start with the ribbons."

Rachel didn't disagree and after collecting their respective cleaning supplies they sat side by side in the middle of all of the crap.

The pile of ribbons and pom-poms were as intertwined as a giant plate of spaghetti and meatballs and she was still deciding on the best way to tackle it when Rachel brought up what had been said in the Biology lesson again.

"So, favourite stalker?"

There was no mistaking that gleam in her eye and Quinn chuckled. "My only stalker as far as I know; but you'd probably be my favourite even if I had two."

"What about if you had a hundred?"

"I don't know. Is Taylor Lautner one of them?"

"Quinn, he's a boy!"

"So?" she smirked, "Labels don't count when the goods are that hot!"

Rachel rolled her eyes but after a moment conceded, "He is very good-looking. So I'd be second favourite if he was in the mix?"

"Rachel, stop."

"It's just a question."

Quinn deftly pulled out and untwisted another ribbon. "No you'd still come first! Now stop."

"So I've been thinking about what movie we should watch when you come over tonight and . . . have you ever seen 'Imagine You and Me?'

"It doesn't sound familiar. Is it any good?"

"It's about a woman happily in love with her new husband who suddenly finds herself falling for her wedding florist and it totally throws her world upside down . . . but it has a happy ending."

"So kind of like The Wedding Planner?"

"No . . . not really."

Quinn ran her cloth down another red strand and then she couldn't take the suspense any more. "Just tell me what you're not telling me, Rachel!"

"The florist is a woman."

"Okay."

"And the fiancé was a man."

"Was a man? Just how unconventional is this movie?"

"No. He is a man. The Groom's a man. The Bride's a woman. The Bride falls in love with the florist, also a woman."

"Okay," she said again, because she really wasn't sure what else she was supposed to be saying.

"It's a really good movie."

"Okay."

"Do you want to watch it?"

Quinn looked into Rachel's bright, eager eyes and managed an: "Um, maybe?"

Rachel nodded excitedly like it had been an overwhelming yes. "I promise you it's not in your face or sexually explicit. It's just your average Rom-Com but with two women as the leads. It's completely harmless and, not to sound patronising, but it's probably the kind of thing you should be watching to help you feel more comfortable with yourself."

"That was totally patronising." She could tell this was a big deal for Rachel though and if it made her happy to think that she was helping then why not. And if it got too graphic, she could always pretend to be napping because knowing she was getting enough rest also made Rachel happy. "But, whatever, I'm in if you're buying the chocolate raisins."

They'd finished with the ribbons and there wasn't much you could do with the pompoms except swirl them broken around in the clean, soapy water and then leave them to dry. Quinn seemed to be a natural at these activities and Rachel wondered how many times she'd had to do it in the past. They'd moved onto the batons now. Most of them were in two pieces – although how they'd ended up snapped in half Rachel didn't dare to ask. The hardest part was finding the matching pairs and after that it was just a case of applying a little glue and holding the jagged ends flush together until they stuck.

"So you're not nervous about watching a lesbian rom-com at all?" Rachel found that hard to believe. "You did hear the part about there being lesbians in it, didn't you?"

"Yes Rachel. Every single time you mentioned them."

"Oh." Rachel smiled sheepishly. Then perhaps the inadvertent dose of exposure therapy was the reason for Quinn's laissez-faire attitude. She pursed her lips as she considered this unexpected bout of confidence. "You know, I think it's great, Quinn, how you suddenly feel so ready to face the harsh realities of your sexuality when just twenty-four hours ago you were sobbing uncontrollably into my neck about the exact same thing."

"Hmm?" Quinn was more focused on the thin thin line of glue she was applying. "Well, you said it was pretty tame and if you think it will help me. . .."

"Yes it is," she mused, "and now that I think about it I'm not sure how realistic it really is."

"You're not?"

"No; and an unrealistic portrayal of lesbian lives and relationships could be counter-productive In fact the entire event could be extremely damaging to the burgeoning of your new sexual identity."

"Uh huh."

"Quinn are you even listening to me?"

"Am I listening to you lament about how okay I seem at the notion of watching a couple of women fall in love on-screen? Unfortunately for you, yes I am. Luckily for you I'm too busy concentrating on getting this to stick together straight to care that my small measure of personal growth seems to be upsetting you."

"I didn't mean it to sound that way," Rachel said but knew the guilt was plain on her face. "Sorry. It's just nice to be needed. Especially by you."

"Not caring remember," Quinn said in that sweet way that let Rachel know there was caring; it was just being held tight below the surface. "I do care about getting all of these fixed before Coach Sue gets back because she won't let us leave until they are. And that makes me care about why you've stopped helping."

"I have glue on my hands." She held them up and the wet gloop streaking her palms glistened in the bright lights of the gymnasium. "And after Coach Sue's dire warnings I thought it best to let it dry on me before I touched anything else."

Quinn frowned but she couldn't argue.

"So if we don't think Imagine Me and You is suitable now," she said like they had made the decision together. "Perhaps we could watch something else?"

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh I don't know . . . have you ever seen . . . The L Word?"

That received Quinn's shifty-eyed attention. "The HBO show?"

"Yes, the one about the . . ."

"You're going to wear the word out, Rachel." Quinn looked to all four corners of the gym to make sure they were still alone and then still dropped her voice to a whisper. "Santana has cable in her bedroom and we used to have sleepovers every weekend until Finn and I started dating. You do the Math."

She did and the answer was disappointing. "You have."

"Unwittingly!" Quinn hissed, checking around again. "I didn't know what it was and the characters were engaging so I let them keep it on, but then they . . ." Quinn's cheeks were going pink.

"And then they what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Don't make me describe it out loud," Quinn said plaintively. Rachel didn't know. She'd never seen so much as a single clip although her dads had every box-set. She should tell Quinn that to let her off of the hook. She wasn't quick enough. "They started doing stuff, okay? Graphic stuff. I didn't even know you could . . . do that and I sure as hell didn't know where to look. It was way too much for me to process; especially without warning so I demanded that Santana turn it off and she told me to get over myself, so I called her a pervert and she hit me in the face really hard with a cushion and then Brittany changed the station because she didn't like us getting violent about it."

That was more than Rachel had been expecting too. She'd known about the shock factor of the programme; it was why she had suggested it, but she hadn't expected such a detailed retelling of Quinn's viewing – or the colour it had brought to her cheeks as she remembered the night.

"So do you think you're maybe ready to give it another go? Now that you know why it affected you the way that it did?"

"I knew why it affected me back then." Quinn chuckled and the whispers were gone but she still looked unnecessarily ashamed. "I just didn't have the mental capacity or a good reason to admit it to myself. "

And all thoughts of holding Quinn's personal growth back for her own need to be needed were gone. It was enough to know that Quinn was accepting herself and visibly happier because of it. "But you do now and we don't have to watch The L word. I think you're making perfect progress with coming to terms with your sexuality all on your own."

"It's not all on my own. I couldn't and I wouldn't be doing it at all if I didn't have you by my side." Quinn looked down at her hands while Rachel was melting inside at her words. "And I don't know if I can watch The L Word with you tonight. I have to be on my way home by six today or I'll end up grounded for a month so we might have to leave the box-sets for the weekend."

Although Rachel was happy that Quinn was already thinking about spending some of the weekend with her, she wasn't ready to give up on this evening yet. With Quinn's blurted blurb about The L Word she was more interested in stealing her Daddy's DVD's than ever.

"It's not even four yet. We'll have time to watch a couple of episodes."

"Are you sure about that?"

Before Rachel could say that she certainly was Quinn held up her right hand like a puppeteer and there was half a baton hanging from her index finger.

"Just pull it off."

"You don't think I tried that before I embarrassed myself by showing you?"

"But how did you let this happen when you knew how strong the glue was?" Rachel asked as she grabbed the wood and tried to pull it free herself.

"Ow! Stop that! I don't know! You made me talk about lesbian sex andI couldn't really concentrate on anything else at the same time!" Rachel started to giggle nervously. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not!" But she clearly was and in fact she fell over onto her back with the force of her giggles because Quinn's disgruntled face was already funny but the six inches of jagged baton dancing around on the end of he angrily-pointing finger was just too much.

"I said don't laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry!" she wailed and put her hands over her face to try and stem, or at least hide, her giggles. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you," she promised, sitting up to offer her most sincere look. Only something went wrong between thinking of doing so and her body carrying out the instruction. "Oh no." She tried again. "Oh, for the love of Streisand,no!"