Rachel sat on her bed, pondering over her latest trial. She remembered perfectly seeing the spiteful glint in Quinn's eyes as she issued it.
"Nationals are coming up, and, as Captain, it's important I be at my best in order to inspire my team to be at theirs. To do that, there's something I need.
"In Coach Sylvester's office, there's a set of pom poms her Cheerio Captain used for her very first National win. They even have her initials inscribed on the handles. They're legendary, and it's said that the essence of perfection is still in those poms."
The blonde's eyes flashed with ambition. "I need those pom poms to be the best. And you are going to get them for me."
"How do you expect me to obtain them?" Rachel asked incredulously.
"Really, Berry," Quinn replied with a smile. "All you have to do is open the trophy cabinet and get them."
Rachel had left after that; there was nothing left to say, after all. She felt like an imbecile for agreeing to do it at all. It couldn't possibly be as easy as Quinn made it sound, and if she got caught, she'd surely be torn apart by one Sue Sylvester, or worse: suspended. A part of her wondered why she was bothering to go through all of this for only the slimmest fraction of a chance of achieving her goal.
"They're holding auditions in two weeks for the Community Center's summer production of Les Miserables," she told him excitedly. "I'm auditioning for Cosette."
"Fifty bucks says you get it easy," he told her, squeezing her shoulders.
She looked back at his darkened figure. "I bet you would make a wonderful Marius." She softly sang the first lines of "Everyday" as she traced her fingers up and down his arm.
Noah only shrugged, and she sighed. "Well, do you at least promise to come watch me perform?"
He kissed her gently, saying, "As long as you want me there, babe, I'll be at every show from this closet to Broadway."
She had to do this. For Noah.
She followed the current of McKinley students during lunch with determination. Everybody knew that Coach Sylvester would be eating in the teacher's lounge, so Rachel figured this had to be her best opportunity.
And then a set of hands grabbed her and pulled her into an empty classroom.
Her first thought, ironically, was why students at McKinley experienced such an urge for secrecy that they felt the need to put others at risk by jerking their arms out of their sockets as they dragged them into empty spaces from crowded hallways. Her second was surprise at the owner of the arms.
"Mike?" she said, looking up at the jock and fellow Glee-mate. Though the quiet Asian was nice enough to her, she certainly never imagined him pulling her into a classroom for a conversation.
"Is it true?" he asked her incredulously. "Are you really going to try to steal a set of pom poms from Sylvester's trophy cabinet?"
"How did you—?" Rachel started. Only two people knew about Quinn's challenge, and she'd said nothing, and couldn't imagine Quinn telling anyone she talked to Rachel Berry. However, before she could finish her sentence, Mike interjected.
"You really are," he stared at her for a moment with something of a mix of shock and admiration. "Berry, you're insane."
The brunette wasn't certain what to make of his comment. "Well, thank you for your insight," she replied, straightening herself and taking a step toward the door. "But I must be going before lunch ends—"
"You can't steal them," Mike cut her off again, once again placing himself between her and the door. "I've heard Brit and Santana talk about them—Sue's crazy about those things. There's a key to that case; plus a heat sensor alarm and electric wiring attached to the frame. There's no way."
Rachel's eyes went wide as she listened to him describe her suicide mission, but she took another step and reached out to push past him. "As much as I appreciate your concern Mike," she insisted. "It is necessary that I procure those poms."
She had almost reached the handle when she heard his voice behind her. "Those particular poms, or just any used by that Cheerio?" he asked.
Rachel stopped, pivoting around to face Mike, who was now twirling a set of keys in his fingers.
He watched as she stepped back towards him, and he smiled as if she'd renewed his confidence in choosing to help her.
"Take these keys," he told her, pressing them into her small hands. "Don't go until after school, during Cheerio's practice. Sue won't leave the gym for at least three hours. The keys will open a cabinet behind her desk, and inside you'll find a back-up set of pom poms that what's-her-face had." He smiled comfortingly at her. "Same inscription and everything: Fabray won't know the difference. Put a spare set of poms from the supply closet in the corner, and Coach Sylvester will never miss them."
"How do you know all of this?" Rachel asked him.
He smiled. "You'd be surprised what Brit knows because people think she's too stupid to pay attention."
Rachel blushed slightly, realizing she herself had on more than one occasion treated Brittany as if she were a simpleton that didn't understand what went on around her. She looked up in time to see her co-conspirator headed for the door to slip back into the stream of students.
"Mike," the brunette called out, waiting for him to stop. She shook her head slightly in confusion. "Not that I'm not immensely grateful, but why are you helping me?"
Mike paused a moment. "Because," he replied shrugging. "Friends don't want to see their friends hurting, I guess."
Rachel watched him disappear out the door, back into the crowd. She was surprised: while she considered Mike somewhat of a friend, she'd never thought he would go out of his way to do something like this for her. Then, as she stared down at the keys in her hand, she realized that maybe it wasn't just her hurt he had wanted to help with.
"Cut the track!" Sue Sylvester's voice boomed from the front of the gymnasium. "Shoddy performance! You think working a full-up to stretch to cradle-down is hard? I had to supervise geriatric priapism patients for four hours—that's hard!" She looked at her team in disgust. "Hit the showers!" she shouted, adding "I don't want any more of your defective sweat tainting my uniforms."
"Q!" Quinn stopped in her tracks, turning back to face the blonde dictator. "You seem distracted—everything okay?"
Everything was not okay; Finn was spending time with stupid ManHands, Puck was suddenly giving a shit about people (like stupid ManHands), and some dweeb in her math class had the gall to ask to borrow a pencil. From her. Her whole damn world was turning upside down. "Actually Coach—" she started.
"That was a rhetorical question Fabray," Sue interrupted. "I don't actually give two hoots about how your insignificant life is. What I do care about is why my Head Cheerio was a sixteenth of a count late on her fourth consecutive back handspring right before my wolf wall. Pull that kind of second-rate effort on my floor again and I'll put you on the bottom of the pyramid and reconsider keeping you on as Captain." She paused for a moment, and Quinn debated whether she should say something.
"Now head to the lockers: your mediocrity is clogging my pores," she dismissed, walking off to yell at the janitors about the brand of wax they used on her floors.
So now Quinn was really pissed. Since when had things not gone her way? She'd been Queen Bee of this place since the old Captain Natalie Harden transferred schools Quinn's freshman year, and no way in hell was she going to let that change.
Of course, who would be waiting for her outside of the locker room but the freak herself: Rachel Berry.
"Good afternoon Quinn," the brunette greeted her. This was met by Quinn's menacing snarl, which she seemingly ignored. "I hope your practice went well."
"Unless you've got the goods, loser, I've got nothing to say to you," the blonde spat.
If possible, the girl grinned wider. "Your key to divinity," she replied, handing her a bag. Quinn looked inside and gasped, leading Rachel off to the side to investigate the contents properly.
"LS— Lynn Silva," she gasped, examining the poms in her hand. "The first Cheerio Captain under Sue's leadership to take Nationals." Her head snapped up when she realized who she was standing with. "How did you get them with Coach Sylvester knowing?"
"I put in a replacement set," the other girl supplied, choosing not to embellish the details of her catch. "I don't believe she'll find out."
Quinn couldn't believe it—yes she had the poms; but that Rachel Berry was the one to give them to her? Damn her!
"Well," Quinn said slowly. "I suppose I can try to talk to Puck for you, but it's not a guarantee."
Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Can I do anything for you in the meantime?" she replied. "Do you want some fresh mountain water from a stream guarded by snakes?" She locked onto the popular girl's eyes, a hint of fury glowing in her own. "You're never going to help me, are you?" she asked.
"Did you ever really think I was?" Quinn dropped her act, smiling viciously. "Really Man Hands; people like Puck don't want to associate with people like you. You're a loser: stuck at the bottom rung of this school like gum. I would have thought that all of those slushie facials and graffiti in the bathroom would have made you realize that by now."
Rachel didn't know what to say—she had known Quinn was a long shot from the start, and now all of her efforts were…worthless.
Quinn's grin grew at the brunette's speechlessness as she turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, "Bye RuPaul, and thanks for the pom poms."
A/N: So yeah, I suck at Sue dialogue; but the priapism joke made me giggle, so I used it anyways.
Other A/N: For those of you severely disliking Puck, I hope the flashbacks are helping a little; I didn't mean to make it seem like it was all about sex- it's just more fun to write smut than deep conversation.