Chapter 7:
Author's Notes: BWHAHAHAHAHAcough!cough!cough!sneeze... sorry bout that – so seventh chapter here, unbetaed but will be shortly, don't worry folks. Anyways, I'm actually doing some plot, at least following some of the things I liked from season 3, but whatevs. I do what I wants... that sounds so horrible from me... i'm sorry.
Moving on.
I like this chapter and the one that follows, I think it was fun to do more with Santana, who is slowly becoming one of my favorite people to write perspective from, mainly because of how varied and real she is sometimes... in fanfic, b/c Ryan Murphy fails at continuity.
As always, I do not own Glee. This is a tragedy, but can be fixed with your help by reading and review.
Because I can:
SureralSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)
******
November 13th:
A day later and Quinn was still having difficulty wiping the grin off of her face. Despite Santana determined to make her face a permanent shade of red, she could not lose the good mood.
Rachel Berry, perfect, prim Rachel Berry had given her fellatio. Granted, this was the same girl who told the celibacy club that girls wanted sex just as much as boys, and she proved it. They reached third base, or she did, according to Rachel, and Quinn enjoyed it greatly. It was a nice reward.
After Rachel went down on her, they stayed in the art studio, talking, and missing thirty minutes of their next period, but Quinn was okay with that. They talked about their relationship, though Rachel had refused to move out of her lap, which made her concentration waiver a bit. Quinn worried, unnecessarily to Rachel, that they were moving too fast, already being more sexually active than she or her was ever before, ignoring the drunk night with Puck. For Rachel, she felt this was the natural progression of their, emphasis on the relationship between the two of them, feelings towards each other. Rachel's need for physical contact and Quinn's tiger-self just encouraged them to follow through and be as close as possible. But she did not feel that the pace was too much. Sex, or a home run as Rachel said, was not on the books for a while, but she would not give up her private time with her kitty.
They talked about where they thought the relationship was headed. While tigers did not necessarily mate for life, as far as Quinn's research could produce, she was a one and done. Well two and done really, but she tried to ignore her time with Puck, even though it produced Beth. Oh God, she was rambling like Rachel.
"Baby mama," Puck said, "I need you to taste this." He held a spoon out in front of her.
"What?"
"I know you're terrible at this cooking stuff," he said, "But you can at least taste things like you promised."
"Oh, yes," Quinn replied. "Is there-"
"I know how much you love my meat," Puck wiggled his eye brows. Quinn punched the jock lightly in the arm and he nearly fell over, almost into the two sophomores next to them. Both looked at the pair and turned away quickly, diverting their eyes so the HBIC/punk and self proclaimed biggest badass of McKinley did not notice that they were in their way. "Hey, watch it, hot stuff."
Quinn was not sure if he was referring to her or the pot he had burning what was probably chili. "That does not answer my question," she said.
"For you, always," Puck said. Quinn glared at him before taking the wood spoon from his hand.
She was forced to take this class in order to fill a spot, so she could still be considered a full time student, having more than enough credits to graduate the previous year. It did not mean that Quinn was decent at cooking, baking, or anything involving fire. In fact, she had burnt water before. She does not like to talk about it.
Puck was in this as supposedly an easy A, though Quinn believed that was more just the excuse he gave. Out of anyone in Glee, or even the school, he was the last one who would be thought of as artistic, because there was no other word to describe how wonderful his food was. Each thing, no matter what he made, was perfect and delicious. The first day he sat next to her and they were meant to bake cookies. Quinn had burnt her after a fiasco involving flour and an egg. Puck finished his and offered her one, just to rub it in. Quinn took it as she was not envious, and after the first bite realized just how much better he was than even Rachel at making things. She demanded that he be her partner for the rest of the class, and all left overs went to her. In part, to pay her back for impregnating her. Puck just nodded and smiled at her, and handed her the plate with the rest of the peanut and chocolate cookies that she did not share with anyone because they were unworthy. No one else but her knew how fantastic Puck was, and her cookie supply depended on the secret being kept.
The chili was not hot, but created a sensation of warmth that spread throughout her body, head to toes. "I used a beef based broth this time, along with some flank steak I smuggled in, thanks be tee dubs Just slightly underdone so when I threw the pieces in the chili finished it off. Vegetables were the standard Orleans trinity and-"
"Shut up and let me enjoy this Puck," Quinn said through a second spoonful.
After she went for thirds, which Puck had the audacity to cut her off, saying it needed to cook a bit more, he stared at her. "What?"
"So," Puck said, "You and Berry, huh?"
"What are you talking about, Puck?"
"Not that I can blame you," he replied, "She is extremely fine if you can get past the crazy." She tried to hold back the panic and anger: no one talked about Rachel like that, but she was not ready for this. "Don't worry, Baby Mama, I understand about keeping it on the DL. Just, you need to remove that 'I got me some' smile or everyone's gonna be asking questions and you're gonna be flustered and Santana's gonna get pissed for you-"
"I am not-"
"Quinn," Puck said, his voice growing low and soft, "Of all the people in this school, I'm the last you should lie to." It wasn't a threat, it wasn't even a reminder. He did not know everything about her, the tiger-self and her struggle with it.
"I do not want to talk about," Quinn replied.
"'s cool," he said. "Your secret's safe with me." He was spooning the chili into a few containers.
"Just like your's."
"Exactly, wait what?" Puck said. "What the fuck do you know?" Quinn smirked back at Puck as looked at her, trying to determine just what she knew, or rather, which of the things she knew. "Quinn?"
The bell rang, she grabbed two containers and stuffed them into her bag. "Quinn?" Puck repeated. "Get back here, Quinn. What do you know?" He stuffed the last of his containers in his bag and ran off, leaving the dirty pots and utensils for some freshmen to clean.
Glee was boring. Granted, it had not started yet, but Quinn was sitting in the back row, trying to read through one of the many books she wanted to finish before the AP exam, waiting for Rachel to show up and, she guessed, Mr. Schue, but he did not seem that important.
"Hey chica," Santana said, throwing her bag onto the chair next to Quinn. "Where's the hobbit?"
"As I am sure you are aware," Quinn replied, "I am not her keeper, nor is she my responsibility, and therefore I should not keep track of her."
"Please," Santana said. "You're practically attached to her fucking hip. And I know you love it." Quinn fought a blush but turned away.
"Stop teasing her," Brittany said, sitting down so close to her girl friend that she should have just given up her seat and sit in Santana's lap.
"But," Santana started. Brittany put a finger over the Latina's mouth and smiled as she did.
"Be nice, Tana," Brittany said. Santana hung her head and nodded.
"But seriously though," Santana said, " where is she, she's never late to Glee. In fact, I'm surprised she's not here practicing wowing us with her fantastic voice."
"I honestly do not know," Quinn said, trying to keep her eyes on her book, "She mentioned something when she stopped by the art studio I was using-"
"So hot," Brittany said. Quinn raised her eyebrows quickly, her mouth open slightly. She felt her hands start to shake, but Brittany reached over Santana and took hold of them. "I mean the temperature, Quinn. Tana and I have had sweet lady kisses there, and we have to get naked because it's usually so warm and I don't mind, but she's-" Santana placed a hand over Brittany's mouth. She turned to her girlfriend. "Foo moch?" Santana just nodded. "Sawrry."
She pulled her hand back. "Quinn doesn't need to know where and when we've fucked, she'd try to avoid them, and that would probably prevent her from going to class."
Quinn closed her book, closed her eyes and tried to push the mental image, no matter how sexy and hot it was, of her friends having sex in the school. "Please, please, please tell me you did not have sex in the classrooms."
"We didn't."
"Actually," Brittany added. "We're trying to get all of them, as sort of a going away-"
"Britts."
"Too much?" Santana nodded. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Santana said. They paused their conversation as the rest of Glee walked in. At least one of her friends knew when it was time to stop having conversations like this. Brittany was learning, though tended to forget often enough that it could be annoying had she not been her best friend. Quinn gave up on teaching Rachel what "polite conversation" was.
Mercedes and Kurt walked in, gossiping about whatever; Quinn learned to tone them out, even with her heighten sense of hearing. It was just white noise now. Sam was right behind them, following Mercedes with ever the devotion of a faithful dog. Mike, Artie, Blaine, and Puck walked in, talking about some video game, Tina on Mike's arm, getting angrier and angrier at some of the stupid things that Puck was saying. It took a moment for Quinn to realize that she was calling the juvenile delinquent a terrible terrible human being for insulting Zelda as much as he was. In fact, she was more in charge of that conversation than anything else. Sugar and Rory came next, talking quietly and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, Finn walked through the doors, trying to make it look like he was still important, still mattered in Glee, but Quinn knew otherwise. At least, she hoped she did. Rachel was hers; and that made her more important in Glee, she was seventy-six percent sure about that.
Mr. Schue walked in, and Quinn just heard the white noise of the Peanuts' Teachers. He was talking about some lesson they needed to learn about cooperation and working together. Part of her was worried about Rachel. Her not-girlfriend? Was that the term they were using now? She did not know and would have to have a conversation just so she knew what Rachel wished she called her, because the moniker "her mate" was a conversation for much later in their relationship. Her significant other was late, and had not informed her of where she was going to be.
Ten minutes into Glee, Rachel ran into the room and nearly fell. She held a few massive binders. Quinn would have gotten up to help her, but froze as she saw something that was new and vibrant about her. Santana must have noticed too, because she sat up straighter, smirking the entire time. Brittany clapped. The rest of the room was oblivious.
"Mr. Schuester, if I may," Rachel said. She put the binders down on Brad's piano and stepped forward to the center of the room.
She took closed her eyes, took an extremely deep breathe, and started speaking, opening her eyes back up so she could look at every single member of the Gleeks. "I'm sorry."
Those were not the words anyone was expecting. Quinn's book fell out of her hand. Mercedes and Kurt finally stopped their little side conversation and started listening to the diva, their captain. Everyone else just did not move and, maybe, did not breath. "I'm sorry that I have made some of you feel like that I do not care about you, that you and your talent is insignificant compared to mind, that this show choir was all about my dreams and wants, rather than the team's. As captain, I thought it was my duty to showcase the best talent, which at the time I believed it to be me.
"I was wrong."
No one moved or spoke.
"I was wrong to place myself above you. It was recently pointed out to me that as a captain, I am not the star, I should be the leader. I should be making sure that everyone matters, everyone is included and everyone is rewarded for their hard work, while also promoting the betterment of the entire squad. I am so sorry that I have failed you in this regard. There is so much talent in here, and rather then helping and ensuring we bring it out and make ourselves the best team and family around here, I was selfishly focused on what I wanted, without caring whatever you brought to the table unless it was about me. I am so sorry that so many of you have felt that I was belittling you, holding you back, or even insulting you because you weren't, and you'd be right about me doing that, and it's fully in your rights to hate me because of that.
"But, as someone kindly pointed out to me, it's time for me to end that. If it's okay, as your captain, I have selected some songs that will highlight and promote the neglected members of the glee club. I was no longer sing any solos, unless absolutely necessary, and even then, I believe that you, all of you, would be a better fit than I. Instead, I want to focus my efforts not on simply preforming and showing how amazing I can be, but helping all of you be as amazing and fantastic. I hope one day, I can make up to you the hurt that I have caused you. Until then, I ask that I remain your captain to ensure we win sectionals, regional and nationals under the star power of the Glee Club, not Rachel Berry."
"Hells yeah," Santana whispered.
"What the hell was that?" Mercedes practically shouted. Quinn was surprised at the other, less talented, diva's outrage. "You think you can simply waltz in here and expect any of us to just listen to you when you say that you can make us better? Who the hell do you-"
"How often do you practice dancing, Mike?" Rachel said. The club and turned to look at him.
"Ummm," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He was not used to this type of attention, Quinn figured. "About seven hours a week. Had to cut back because my dad's pressuring me to study more."
"Brittany, how bout you?"
The blonde cheerio smiled brightly. "About twice that, but you already know this, right Rach? We've seen each other quite a bit at the studio." Rachel returned the smile.
"Santana," Rachel asked, which the Latina practically jumped out of her seat. "How much time do you spend writing songs or playing your piano?"
"That was private, Hobbs," Santana growled and nearly jumped out of her seat. Brittany's hand on her lap stopped her.
"I know, and I'm sorry."
"I see what you're doing."
"I don't," Mercedes said, "Who cares how much-"
"I play my guitar about ten hours a week when football isn't happening," Puck said.
"I play that much or work on my videos," Artie added.
"Twenty hours a week," Brad said. The club turned to him. The man had never spoken before, and if he did, it was only a word or two at a time at most.
"We all practice and work hard to get better," Rachel said. "Though Kurt doesn't admit it many people, and I'm sorry for revealing this-"
"It's okay," he said. "I understand."
"He spends about sixteen hours during the week working on his fashion designs and learning about various styles and materials all to better himself in the field he loves." Rachel turned and stared at Mercedes. "How much do you practice?
"I don't-"
"Currently, due to the play, I've cut down my practice time from twenty eight to thirty hours, down to about fourteen. Once the play is over and I can devote my time to the craft I love and want more than anything to be part of, I will return to my previous schedule," Rachel did not look away, now practically glaring at the less-talented diva. "I have dance lessons, acting lessons, singing lessons, along with personal time that I take out of my day to better myself at my passion. If I wished to know about dance, I would ask Mike or Brittany, who are so far ahead of me that I can only dream I would ever be as good. Video, I'd go to Artie. Guitar and about five other instruments he doesn't speak about, it'd be Puck. If I wanted to play video games, if I had the time, and most recently, her voice as well, Tina would be the first person I'd look for, because I know she has started attending lessons with me, albeit in an entirely different genre and style."
"Rachel is all of this-" Mr. Schue started, but Rachel was not stopping her tirade.
"I'm telling you this, not to brag to brag or force any of you into the spot light, and for doing so, I apologize, but it is necessary to show that I am the most capable person in this room in regards to singing show choir, pop, musicals, and majority of mainstream music. You may be talented, but you have not, and probably will never put in as many hours I have. You haven't devoted your life and free time to this, despite the school's desire to bring you down and stomp on you because of your love of something.
"So Mercedes," Rachel asked, "how many hours do you practice in a week?"
Quinn knew the answer, the entire club knew the answer. Mercedes was rather proud of her talent and figured she did not have to practice, often bragging about it. "You are talented, but you can't rely on talent alone to get where you want to go. You have to work at it. If we want to win, we have to work. And I believe we can win without me singing, hence why I have this."
Rachel stepped back and grabbed the first binder, removed a stack of papers and started passing them out. She repeated the process with three other stacks of paper. When Quinn received hers, she was surprised to see staff paper filled with music notes and lyrics. A quick look at Santana's told her that the music was slightly different for her. Rachel passed out sheet music to the band.
"I have prepared and copied the set list that I believe will allow us to win Sectionals, along with various other numbers. After that, we can return to our lessons in humanity and other things that are just as important as success, I guess."
"Rachel," Mr. Schue said, "just because you are co-captain, does not give you the right to simply dictate what we are doing. I am still the teacher here and you have a co-captain to-"
"Finn's done nothing, Mr. Schue," Puck said. "He hasn't tried to lead us or nothing. I mean, kay once, he came up with the set list or something, but that is really it. At least here, Rachel is trying to make an effort."
"Coach always allows the captain's input and direction," Brittany said, her eyes focused on the papers in her hand. "It makes the team better, because there is a student leading them, not just another adult who might not know their ass from a hole in the ground." Santana snorted and the other Gleeks just stared at her. "It's not a dinosaur, sure, but a dinosaur doesn't really dance or sing, so we need someone who knows that. Rach does."
Quinn smiled behind her hand. "Brittany, I don't think-"
"Mr. Schuester," Rachel said, "This is the last chance for some of us to win Nationals. It'll take more than a last minute plan and writing songs in the room and a terribly timed kiss to get us there. We need to improve ourselves and work harder than we have before. And we need to do it as a team. Look at the last page in your folders."
Santana squealed. She actually squealed. It was the strangest sound that Quinn had ever heard and she had heard the sounds of a dying deer due to some rather strange circumstances. "What the fu-" Puck started to say, but shut his mouth quickly as Santana jumped out of her seat and hugged Rachel tightly, squeezing the girl so much that she could not move her arms and picking her up off the ground.
The two talked for a bit, with Santana swaying the diva back and forth slightly. Quinn reached down and picked up the paper that the Latina had dropped. "What's the big deal?" Finn asked.
"Santana," Rachel said, strained, but smiling, "If you could put me down, I'll explain to everyone why you're so not you at this moment." Santana said something again so only Rachel heard before lowering her back to the ground. "I was completely serious when I said that I am stepping back as lead vocalist, I am also stepping forward as encouraging our own talents and skills as part of this club. It's important that everyone, and I mean everyone get a chance to shine and show off how wonderful you are. Given by the list provide with you, I have included various songs, the soloists who would excel at them, as well as recommendations for possible duets, and group numbers. What Santana is so excited about is my insistence that we utilize her song-writing capabilities to further extend our boundaries. I have also included Noah as part of that. I also have listed the songs that both Mike and Brittany will have the easiest time to create quick choreography, as well as the ones that will require more work, though they would have the final say, since while I'm pretty good at dancing, they are miles ahead of me."
"This is all well and good," Mr. Schue said, "But I still think-"
"This is fucking awesome," Santana said, "That's what it is."
"Language, Santana," he replied. "It's fine and all, but I don't think that we should simply just have one person pick the songs."
"I understand and can see your hesitation," Rachel said. "And as captain, I was shown it is important to take charge, but also listen to the contributions of both my team and coach, in that order. You teach us, you guide us, but we are the ones who have to preform it. We are the ones who will be the ones on that stage, singing and dancing. We are the owns who must truly own it. This is me saying that I believe it is time we, the students, start taking more involved role in this club." Rachel blushed slightly. "If that is okay."
"Of course it's okay," Puck said. "This is gonna be so f-ing awesome. Satan, when you-"
"I have not made a decision regarding this," Mr. Schue said. Quinn glared at him. Rachel had done a fantastic job of providing not only songs recommendations, music selected individually for all preformers, as well as encouraging the skills and abilities of all the members, even the new one. "Finn, as co-captain, what do you think about this? Has Rachel discussed it all with you."
Rachel spoke up before the quarterback could oepn his mouth. "No."
"Why not?" Mr. Schue asked. "As this club is run by two captains because I didn't want this happening."
"Finn," Rachel turned to him. "Do you have any ideas or contributions that further the progress of this club?"
The group turned to him, staring at the lanky quarterback, and for a moment, Quinn thought he was actually going to contribute something this year besides trying to dig himself out of the holes he put himself in. Granted, it was wrong to expect so much from a boy, but when does a boy grow up. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
There are moments for everyone that test them and forces them to grow up. Quinn had hers first when she was eleven and became a monster. The second time was when she was pregnant through her own doubts and fears and insecurities. She forced Rachel to grow up fast by being said monster, through tormenting the girl. Santana grew up because of her own torment by the racist bigots, like her father, and then become the protector of a girl who struggled with sanity every day and Quinn. Brittany would never grow up, which was something she was thankful for. Artie grew up when he was paralyzed. Puck should have grown up when his father left, but with no guidance and help, he became the man-child of Puck. He did grow up when Beth was born and given away; it just took time. Her other friends might be grown up as well, they just did not show it, nor give reason as to why.
But Finn had not really been tested, not been shown how to grow up. And it was okay. Quinn knew that some people should not be forced to grow up early. "No," He said, turning away from the group. She felt sorry for the boy, and, at least somewhere in her, she knew that it was wrong to put him on the spot like that.
"It's okay, Finn," Rachel said, smiling at him. He looked a bit happier from it. Quinn did not like it. The tiger did not like it. "I simply figured that since I had a plan, I'd go through it. I didn't think to talk to you first. I'm sorry."
"It's cool," Finn replied. The goofy smile was not a good sign. This crush on Rachel should have been over. The diva saw to it, spoke loud and clear the day after the slushie and feather experience.
"And I encourage everyone to bring ideas," Rachel said. "This is our club, and Mr. Schuester, as much as you lead us, we also need to lead us, so please give us that chance. At least, let's see if this works."
Mr. Schue was silent, staring at Rachel, as though she were a puzzle. The diva was, but Quinn only knew the patterns and codes to figure it out, and she hide them well so she would be the only one who knew how. "Okay," he said. "Can everyone have something from Rachel's preparations for next week? If everyone thinks it'll work, we'll go with her plans. Sounds good?"
There was a murmur through the group. "I appreciate the initiative, Rachel, and the sacrifice you are making in stepping aside for the greater good of the group. You're all dismissed, and have something for next Thursday, kay? Good."
The Gleeks departed, talking animatedly about their binders and the music within them. Even the band was happy with the new songs and options they had. Quinn had yet to open the file. Rachel would tell her what she would need to know. Santana and Brittany were sitting in the back, heads close and whispering to each other.
Quinn walked down and stood next to Rachel as she started to pack up her back and her own binders, plural, god the girl had so many. "I am going to stop by the art room, finish up a painting, you going to be fine?"
"Yep," Rachel turned around and smiled at her, the glint of something sitting just behind her eyes. "Do you want me to join you? We can finish our conversation."
Quinn felt her face flush, and her tiger-self growled deep within her. She wanted to pull her not-girlfriend, they really really needed to figure out a title for each other, close and sniffed her hair, inhale everything that made Rachel so wonderful and-
"I need to go Rachel," Quinn said.
Rachel stepped closer. "Oh, why? Is," her voice dropped down a few octaves, "kitty feeling uncomfortable?"
"Rae," Quinn replied. "Do not."
"Fine." Rachel pouted. "I'll see you tomorrow, yes?"
"Yes," Quinn took a step back, taking deep breathes and trying to keep the tiger-self from forcing himself out and taking the diva in the choir room. "Mom wants to have a family dinner night as often as possible, and given that I am no longer in Cheerios, she is taking it upon herself to make sure I am home as often as possible. I still wish for us to spend time together after the play next week..."
"You have to sacrifice your time with me to time with your mom," Rachel said. "It's cool." She just smiled.
"I will," Quinn said, but paused taking a deep breathe. It was not difficult, though the tiger seemed to enjoy it more than anything else, but Quinn-self preferred to keep her language as formal as possible, if nothing else that the lack of formality made her not-girlfriend happy. "I'll call you tonight, yes?"
Rachel smiled brighter and reach out, picking up her hand. Quinn looked down as the small fingers wrapped around hers. The touch was warm, the grip firm, her arm shaking slightly as though it wish it could pull her in and hold her so tight that Quinn would never escape. The girl before her, the one she had tortured with words and slushies, and sometimes outright threats, wanted to protect her. Rachel wanted to give her everything that Quinn had missed out, had never really had. She wanted to offer her more than just the physical involvement.
It was light, the grip, but Quinn could not pull her hand from it. It did not smother her the way Finn's hand liked to, or hold her so loosely that she just could slip away without a thought, like Sam's. Rachel held her like she was a kitten, something to be held close and protected, but never so lightly that it could slip away and hurt itself.
"Be good, kay?" Rachel asked.
Quinn squeezed back.
"I'll talk to you tonight?" Rachel said. Another squeeze. "It doesn't have to be our standard talk, you know? It could be talk-talk. Would you prefer that?" Quinn shrugged. "Text me when you're free."
"Sure," Quinn said. She turned to leave but her hand was not released.
"I missed you," Rachel said.
Quinn looked back at the smaller diva, the girl, no, woman who had decided it was in her capability and power to forgive her worst tormentor, and further decided that she was datable material. "And I you," Quinn replied.
Rachel dropped her hand and gave a gentle smile before turning back to her music and binders. Quinn rushed away, Santana and Brittany following her. They did not notice Finn returning to the almost empty choir room that held one Rachel Berry.
November 14th
Rachel stood at her locker, trying to decide what to bring to her next class. While the teacher had yet to actually state they would require their text books, given the test today, she was positive she could squeeze in some extra studying on the physics test. She felt prepared, but over-studying was not a real word and therefore should be ignored at all costs, as a person could only be prepared with enough preparation for any task or subject at hand; it was not paranoia, just being minded of what was to come. She was sure she had missed something from the night before, given the constant texting and then long call with Quinn; not that she really minded, mind you, and Rachel was rather proud of her ability to multi-task, giving full attention to her not-girlfriend, a moniker they must really fix soon, while at the same studying for a test that she had spent the better part of a week, with the required working around both the play and other homework as well as her previous lessons in voice and movement. She was ready to ace the test, she told her self, and nothing could stop her.
"Hey, Rach," Finn said, standing next to her locker and looking down at her.
Rachel sighed. "I have asked you before, Finn, please don't call me by that name."
"Why?" He asked.
"Because it is not my name, and I don't like nicknames."
"Santana calls you it," he responded.
"No, she calls me many things, but never 'Rach'," she said. Rachel took her book out and held it in her crossed arms in front of her; better safe than sorry. The teacher had a mean streak and would probably assign homework after the test.
"What about Brittany?"
"Have you ever told Brittany what she can or can't do?" Rachel said. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Walk you to class? I'm headed in that direction."
It was Quinn's job to do so, but her not-girlfriend had been caught up by a teacher concerning some stupid project that she was arguing against completing, something about not letting a misogynistic man decide what she should or shouldn't be writing about. Also, Finn's class was across the school. In the other direction. But the puppy-dog/baby face look he was pleading was enough to force her to say, "sure."
"Great," he said. He started walking without waiting for her.
Nothing had really changed. Rachel ran to catch up to him, while taking a faster pace to keep up with his longer strides. "Is there a reason you wished to walk me to class?" She asked.
"I had a question."
"That's good."
"It was about what I asked you yesterday," he continued, ignoring the blatant sarcasm she had applied to her words. Maybe it wasn't enough. She'd have to check with Santana about what the appropriate amount of displeasure and dislike was needed to pull off her tone.
"As I have stated to you before, Finn," Rachel said, "I have no time at the moment to tutor you solely. Even after the play, I do have my own lessons to attend."
"C'mon, Rach," Finn said. She glared at him. "I mean Rachel, I just need a little help. You said that you wanted to be friends right?"
"I did," she replied. "But I also said that I wanted to return to that friendship slowly, it has only been a month-"
"Right, it's been a month, we could just hang out and stuff, go see movies and everything, play video games at my place," Finn said.
"You mean the things you wanted to do while we were dating, yes?" Rachel asked.
"Well sure, but-"
"Finn, just because we are 'friends,'" She made the quotation marks in the air so hopefully he understood her sarcasm associated with the word. Rachel doubted that. "Does not automatically entitle you to my time. I said I would make an effort for you and the rest of glee, but it would be for the betterment of the entire club to do group sessions. Singers learn better with people, practice better by themselves."
"But I just want to hang out," Finn repeated.
"Maybe one day," Rachel said. She stopped in front of a classroom. "But not today. I don't feel comfortable with you yet Finn."
"Why not?" he asked. "I still don't understand why we broke up. I mean, I forgive you and everything, but-"
"You forgive me?" Rachel hated raising her voice, it was terrible for her vocal chords and given the play was approaching, this wasn't the satisfactory method of showing her displeasure, but it just happened. "You forgive me, for dumping you?"
"Of course, I mean," Finn said, "Santana probably put you up to it to-"
"What lies you spreading now Finnocence?" Santana and Brittany were walking past, holding pinks, looking perfect in their cheerios uniforms. "I'll see you in class, Britt."
"Kay," The blonde Cheerio walked away, well skipped would have been a better term, but most people couldn't do it as naturally or gracefully as Brittany did, and in such a manner that made it seem like it was just her normal walk, so maybe walk was the correct verb.
"I know it was you who told Rach-"
"Rachel," Rachel said, sighing.
"Rachel to break up with me. I know you're the one who spread the lies about me."
"What lies? That you're a minute man? Please, we all know how true that one is," Santana replied, leaning forward and glaring up at the abnormally tall boy. He was very tall, now that she looked at him. "Or how you knew about the various times she had been slushied since 'dating' you, and I use that word very loosely, given how you really cared about her since getting together with her over the summer, shown by how much time you spent with her."
"That's cause you were hogging her," Finn said. "You've corrupted her. Made her into..into.."
"Into what, Finnosaur? Into what?" Santana stepped forward. There was a crowd forming, McKinley students never could keep their noses out of other people's business, plus Santana tended to get involved in some fantastic fights. "Into a woman who can think for herself, who can actually look at her relationships and attempt to have an equal partner in them. How have I fucking corrupted her?"
"Santana," Rachel said, trying to step forward, but Finn pushed her back. Roughly. Against the lockers. Enough so she almost lost her breathe. And hit her head against a lock.
"You're making her like you." Finn was shouting now. Why was his voice so loud? It hurt. It hurt a lot. He apparently had decent breathe control to produce that much sound.
"So apparently there's something that wrong me with?" Santana replied. She was loud too, but Rachel expected that. With Santana there were two volumes. Loud and Ear-piercing. They hadn't reached the secon- ow, her head really hurt. Maybe sitting down would be nice. "How is being an independent woman, who won't let any one, man or woman walk over her a bad thing? How is fighting for your friends and standing next to them a terrible thing? You tell me fine, what's so flawed and wrong with me that I have supposedly turned Rach into."
"You made her into a lesbian like you!":
The hallway was silent. Rachel stood up quickly, the dizziness and pain aside. She moved around Finn and looked at her best friend.
Santana was broken. She had never seen fear or sadness on the girl, the former grower faster and faster. Her breasts moved swiftly up and down, eyes darting back and forth, but her feet stepped away so slowly. No one spoke around them, but it would be only seconds before the gossip, the stares, the pointing started. McKinley wasn't a kind place, and certainly not to those who were different. An ethnic lesbian? Slushing would be just the start of the torment. Santana stumbled a bit, her feet sliding on the floor, trying to grasp at something so she wouldn't free fall.
In a moment, she was darting down the hallway, away from the still silent, full room.
Rachel heard Brittany's cry, but didn't register it as anything but attention. Instead, she stepped in front of Finn and punched him as hard as she possible could, putting her weight into like Brittany had taught her, twisting her hips using her strong legs to gather extra power and her shoulders and hips to distribute that power to her tiny, non-manlike, hands.
It was Finn's turn to hit the lockers, collapse against them, and slide to the floor. Rachel didn't see any of it. She was running down the hallway the moment she pulled her fist back from Finn's probably broken nose. She heard a second pair of footsteps, felt a light hand grasp herself and then pull her towards a out of the way bathroom, the bathroom Santana had forced her into after she and Quinn nearly fucked in the school, which she still kinda wished they did.
Brittany reached the door first and started to open it, but Rachel stopped her. "Wait."
"Wait?" She was mad. Rachel had never seen the blonde this way; torn and hurt and angry were the three things that warred on her face. "My girlfriend has just been outed by the biggest idiot in the school and-"
"Quinn will kill him if her best friend doesn't stop her." Brittany paused.
"Why not you?"
"Because I will let her and help her hide the body," Rachel said, no hesitation or regret. Finn didn't just hurt, or worse, maybe break Santana, he hurt every person who was struggling with their sexuality, who fought with themselves through fear of nonacceptance to pain of dismissal and rejection. "And I know you are smarter than me, Brittany, that you could do it and probably better, but you haven't had to struggle with people hating you for as along as I have, people who disliked who you were just because who you were, who your parents were, through no fault of their own. Don't tell me you've suffered through that."
Brittany said nothing.
Rachel stepped forward and pulled her hand from the door, wrapping hers around it. "Santana will need you. But right now, she needs someone who's been there, even if its not the same. Quinn will listen to you, and I'd really like to get my EGOT before going to jail." The blonde laughed, wiping away her tears.
"I'm sorry," she said. Rachel just nodded. Brittany didn't need to explain why.
"Just go get Quinn, we'll be here waiting kay?" Brittany nodded, gave one last look towards Santana's hiding place, and ran down the now empty hallway to wherever Quinn had hidden herself.
Rachel sighed. She leaned on the door, listening to silence within. Opening the door without another care, Rachel stepped inside and locked it before turning to look at the Latina hugging her knees against the wall, sobbing but quiet, almost motionless, into her legs.
"Oh, San," Rachel said; she ran to her friend and hugged her as tightly as she could, almost pulling the girl into her lap. The light, how was Santana almost weightless, girl slide in and let herself be surrounded by the only slightly shorter diva's arms. Santana wrapped hers around Rachel's neck and began to hitch her shoulders up and down. She felt a wetness form on her neck and shoulder, and the gentle shakes within the Latina. But no sound. She couldn't hear anything. Barbara, what would drive a girl to cry to with no sound.
Rachel said nothing.