Chapter Eight: The One With Revelations.

viii: Kiss Me Like You Wanna Be Loved.

They decide to go his house – well, Quinn does – because she's not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. He doesn't know what's caused the drastic change in mood, and it freaks him out a little, but he pushes that aside. It's a tense and silent taxi ride back to his flat, which is spent with Quinn staring out the window and him counting the minutes as they pass. He swears minutes have never been this long. Even the queue for Avatar 3D hadn't been this long.

Or the latest Spiderman. Which, if you were wondering, disappointed him greatly.

He chances a glance at her, and instantly his heart sinks a little. She looks troubled and – and nervous, if you could believe. He wants her to know she has nothing to be nervous about. What's the worse that Beth could mean? His mind immediately throws out scenario's such as: the first person she killed, her secret lover, the person she intends to kill, etc.

Sam doesn't think she's a murderer or lesbian though (not with the way she kisses) and gently places his hand over hers, trying to assure her that he's not here to judge. Because he's not, and he doesn't judge people off the bat – Sam knows what it's like to be unpopular, or prejudiced against. He wasn't always the stud he is today. Even with that, he's not always confident as a 'stud' and is frequently surprised when girls show interest.

He and Quinn have only been dating a couple of weeks, but he already knows that he wants it to last longer, and is holding onto whatever they have now tonight.

The taxi finally pulls up beside his house, and he pays him accordingly. Still holding her hand, he gets out and she climbs out his door after him. He gives her a genuine smile, and she manages a small one back. Even that little, weak smile sends ripples through his body and makes his heart pound.

It's not until they're both sitting on his couch with a glass of red wine in their hands that she speaks. She looks weary, unlike when they started out the night. Her blonde hair is still curling at the ends neatly, glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner, and her top still clings to her in ways that drives him more than slightly crazy – but she looks different, somehow. Her beautiful hazel eyes that he can't seem to get enough of? They're sad. There's many other words, but the one that seems to pin exactly – no theatrics or elaborate descriptions – is simply sad.

"It's my first tattoo," Her voice is raspy. He nods, wondering briefly if she wants him to reply. She answers it for him by continuing, "I got it for my eighteenth birthday. I was drunk, giddy and looking for adventure and something rebellious." She smiles briefly, lost in memories. Her eyes finally meet his, "I'm not going to lie to you, Sam, the people behind this tattoo... They mean a lot to me."

Again, he nods wordlessly, squeezing her hand slightly. He doesn't understand what's so big that she's looking so grave – most men would run for the hills at this point. Hazel eyes turn to her hands, "And you have to know, I normally lie to men when they ask me about Beth. I rattle off something about the song, and my parents singing it to me when I was young."

She pauses, gazing at him, "That's not true at all... The truth is, B—Beth, she's.. she's..." Quinn swallows heavily, and then says softly, "She's my daughter."

Without even realising, he lets go of her hands and leans back into the couch. Someone releases a long, laboured sigh and he notices with a start that it was him. Her daughter? He's been to her apartment plenty of times, and there's never been a child.. Unless she's not around.

Sam's blue eyes widen, what if she died? He would be the biggest jerk around for his reaction. He takes her hand again, squeezing it lightly once more.

"I fell pregnant at fifteen... I knew I couldn't give her the life she deserved, and so when the time came, I gave her up for adoption."

It takes him a moment to process the information, and he feels relieved. This could have been much worse. He turns back to Quinn, and there's a pang in his chest when he see's her melancholy, broken expression, pleading with him to tell her all is okay.

He cups her face with his free hand, "I'm sorry you had to carry that around as a secret, Quinn."

They're whispering for reasons neither of them quite know.

There's tears in her eyes suddenly, "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you Sam, I just.. I just.. I love her so much," There's a sob, and she's in his arms, clutching for dear life. "I can't always talk about her."

"Shh, shh. Don't apologise." He brings her back so he can look into her eyes, "You are beautiful, Quinn. But outside and inside. And I think you're incredibly brave and selfless to do that for your daughter, regardless of the pain caused to you."

She laughs shakily, wiping her eyes, "I'm such a mess." She sniffs, eyes moving back to his, "And you're kind of amazing, you know that?"

He grins broadly, "Of course I do. Thing is, you're about ten times more amazing.. and I hope you don't realise that and find someone better."

Quinn doesn't respond immediately, and just stares at him. He begins to worry that he started joking too early – although he had been telling the truth. His worries are eradicated, however, when she pounces on him. She kisses him softly and lovingly, with much more emotion than he's ever gotten from her. He grabs her waist and pulls her tighter, sliding down the couch until he's lying with her on top of him. Tongue's meet slowly and romantically, and he feels more attached to her than he ever has, too. She usually maintains a distance – but not tonight.

Her hand travels up his top, as his rake up and down her legs. He's so overcome that he can't stop what slips out next: "God, Quinn, I think I love you."

What happens next is quite amazing. She pauses, sits back on him and says nothing as seconds pass. Sam's starting to get anxious. Quinn tears off his shirt then, and takes hers off, too. Her kisses are passionate, loving and rough now, and he finds it just as enjoyable as the slower kisses.

That night is the first time they sleep together. He kisses each and every one of her stretch marks whilst telling her repeatedly that she is beautiful – because she is, and he truly, honest to god believes it from the bottom of his heart.

(Sam Evans, is not the type to lie.)

She's begun walking to the theatre everyday, meeting Brittany and Artie down there. Yes, she calls him Artie now – he had insisted. Walking to work makes her feel like she's healthy and fit, which most of the time, isn't wholly true. Rachel eats far too much chocolate than is necessary, and often misses out on her daily exercise lately with all that is going on.

Well. Perhaps that is an awful excuse, she admits.

Things are actually going quite well for Rachel (besides the burning longing to be in a relationship again) and her friends, too. Quinn's been singing lately all the time in the apartment, Santana's stopped glaring at Rachel for being perky in the morning (and she's been doing that years) and Brittany.. Brittany doesn't really count, because she has always been quite happy.

As for the males, Puck is still on top form since his performance last week, Finn – despite himself – is enjoying the musical while Mike and Kurt? Rachel can't figure out what is up with them. Kurt seems to be pining one minute for something she's not sure of, and then happy and buzzing the next. Mike's preoccupied all the time, but he's never been that talkative anyway.

She stops at the theatre and exhales happily, ready for the day. She glances at her watch and notices that she's over a half hour early, but doesn't mind. Rachel hates being late for anything. It's another day of call-backs – the last – and she can't wait to see what everyone brings to the table.

(But she'll lie and say she doesn't care what Jesse has to sing.)

She glances around to ensure the emptiness of the place, and then steps onto the stage. Inhaling deeply, she acknowledges how much she has missed performing. Missed standing on that stage, waiting in anticipation for that special moment to shine. The adrenaline and buzz that rushes through your system.

Oh, how she misses it.

She begins a slow acapella, "Hello, is it me you're looking for?"

When it finishes, she remains standing centre stage for that moment longer, eyes closed and stance defined. It's then that there's a slow, loud and close clapping of a single individual. Rachel's eyes snap open quickly, darting to the sound. Her brows immediately furrow as she see's Jesse St. James standing at the side of the stage, eyes glued to her. Except he doesn't look mocking or egotistical, but impressed and open.

He nods, "That was impressive. Of course, I already knew you could sing... Rachel Berry with the amazing voice and good acting skills who could never quite reach the Broadway bar. Sad, no?"

She scowls. "Jesse St. James.. good voice with great acting skills who could never quite reach the Broadway bar. It works both ways, St. James."

"Call me Jesse, please. I know we're on a formal basis, but even so. I have a question though," he begins, strolling over to her, his gaze powerful, "Why'd you give up?"

Rachel bristles a little, "I did not give up!"

"Yet, here you are, producing a musical and not starring. Stuck in a low-budget theatre and having no real direction."

"I have direction!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, "I pegged you as a winner, not a quitter."

"What are you doing here, then? Being so high and mighty with your 'quitter' and 'giving up' lectures, why are you here? Shouldn't you be chasing your dreams?" she spits, venom laced in her words.

He's standing next to her on the stage now, but no longer looking at her. Jesse's eyes are directed upon the seats, as if they were all full, and surveying the crowd. "Maybe I am. I still am. I just do projects in between. What's more important than keeping that dream alive?" He questions, and for once in her life, Rachel Berry is speechless. He smirks, "Besides, how can anyone help but be intrigued by the wonderwoman that is Rachel Berry?"

Before she can utter any type of response, whether indignant or flattered, he takes a step back, "I better go practice. Take it from someone who understands what Broadway means, don't give up on it." He's walking away, his back to her, when he calls out, "It would be an awful shame."

Her first reaction is complete shock at his words, and how right he is in some ways. It doesn't take long for anger to follow though – who does he think he is? No one ever talks to a producer like that. She obviously hasn't got enough authority around these parts if he thinks that's okay. She could rule him out based on this alone, but knows his talent is valuable... So does he. That's the problem really, isn't it?

But how dare he. Who is Jesse St. James, some inflated wannabe star, to say that she has given up on her dreams? Rachel took a hiatus, that's all. She'll be back to auditioning every weekend someday soon. Once she has this experience under her belt, she plans on belting out every musical tune known at every audition available.

Who is he to say she's a talent wasted.

(She's angry because it's true. She's hurt because none of her friends have said it or perhaps even noticed in the last year when she's done zero auditions.)

It's four hours later, and Rachel is sitting in between Brittany and Artie, scanning a list of names that are beginning to make no sense. She knows who she wants for each part, but there are problems between them. For instance, Artie wants Mercedes Jones for Joanne, whereas Rachel wants her for Maureen and Brittany is undecided. Mercedes perhaps looks like the part for Joanne, but she sure as hell has the bite of Maureen. The diva-like confidence and swagger that is Maureen is ever present in Mercedes. Even with that decision to be made, both of her co-workers are fans of Jesse and want him for Roger. She argues Finn for Roger.

Then there's the part of Mimi. Essentially, they have no Mimi. The actresses for that part didn't do her justice, and it is important to Rachel to have every part up to par. She doesn't have room for imperfections, doesn't have time to 'work on it' and doesn't have the patience for pitch.

"The only actress even nearly suiting the part ... I don't think we can afford her," Artie appears perplexed and troubled.

Brittany nods, "We can't afford her. It's a tight budget. As much as the actors love their job, they're going to want to be paid. She wants too much."

"What can we do though?" Rachel argues, "We've literally no one else for the job."

A silence settles around them as everyone thinks hard. Brittany knows that they're running short on money, that Rachel's bank balance is rapidly depleting and yet, they can't come to any decision on this. She personally doesn't even like that girl for Mimi, but Artie speaks the truth – there is no one else. She glances up at the other two, mind working at lightning speed. Artie is going through the names still, thinking back to each one and writing comments. Rachel is humming 'Living in America' quietly, staring at the stage pensively.

A thought strikes Brittany then. She is a genius. "Rach, why don't you just play Mimi?"

Rachel snorts a little, then pats her hand, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brit, but that's not really common practice. I mean, I-"

"Why not? You can sing, you can act. Actually, you're kind of great at those things. I'm better at dancing obviously, but you're great at those. We need great for this or it's going to suck."

Artie's nodding then, and Brittany knows from Rachel's expression that she thinks they've gone mad, "I've heard you're amazing. Why don't you give us an audition? Because let's be honest, we've got no other option." Rachel doesn't respond, and Artie nudges her, "You are meant to be on the stage, not up here. It's time to get back up. Once I see if you're adequate for the role, you may get it."

She smirks then, "Adequate? Oh, honey, you aint seen nothing yet."

Rachel leaves to quickly prepare a song, and Brittany turns to Artie, "She could be exactly what we need!"

"Could. We don't know if she's the Mimi type. Can Rachel be sexy? Remember the role requires pole dancing at one stage. I'm just not that sure if she's capable of that acting.."

Brittany frowns, "I didn't know poles could dance. Why would that interfere with Rachel?"

He pauses, still sometimes taken aback by Brittany, "Dancing with the pole. On the pole. You know, like strippers in a club."

Realisation dawns, "Oh. You should have just said stripper. Sure she can do that... She's an actress." Artie supposes he can't fault her there. "She's just not as good as me at the stripper dancing. You should come see sometime," Brittany winks.

Artie wonders just how unprofessional all of them can become by the end of this. (Part of him says to hell with unprofessionalism, Brittany is one hell of a woman.)

He's begun to consider college as boring. Now, never one to be misconstrued, he doesn't mean that as a way of saying he hates his course. Au contraire, Kurt was born to do a fashion course, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wander from time to time. Especially with certain lecturers, it's often hard to remain focused. Lila Bramble is the worst.

He's been feeling lost lately anyhow. It's what he reflects on during class time, when he should be listening. Kurt's just not sure what he wants to do with his life – he's 24, he should have some sort of idea. Right? He wants to have an idea. He wants to know instinctively what he's meant for.

That's just his professional life. What about personal? What about love? Is he destined to wander the planet, searching, for all of eternity? Is he doomed to that kind of life?

No matter where he goes, or who he meets, the connection – it isn't there. He sighs; this is all true, with the exception of Blaine. That boy enthrals him like no other. By god, it's wrong - so, so wrong, but Kurt can't stop himself. When he's not thinking of his doomed personal and professional life, he's thinking about Blaine and how his heart is doomed to break. What if he and Santana actually last? It's absolutely crazy, but they seem to get along like a house on fire.

His face twists into a scowl.

It's then that Kurt is quickly called from his thoughts as someone begins to talk about running for class rep. His friend from college, Sebastian, turns and hits him, "You should so run! You'd be brilliant!"

His first reaction is to scoff – and then he realises, he would be brilliant. A smirk. A glance around. He raises his hand. This is what he needs in both his professional and personal life. A goal and glory.

His journey home is filled with excitement and plans of how to win. Kurt is fairly popular among those in his course, but there are quite a few he bangs heads with. Their fault, of course. He can't help it if his fashion expertise outdoes theirs. Either way, he has to find a way to combat the stigma that has been attached to his name by these few individuals. He must win.

If he wins, he'd be in charge of organising class nights out and making sure all students rights are met within his course. Human rights have always been something Kurt's been interested in – ever since he was in school, he's been keenly aware of people's rights and responsibilities. Perhaps this is due to the tough time he had in high school, and all of the prejudices that come with being homosexual. He still finds prejudice and ignorance in the corners of his classroom – of course, fashion being what it is, it's not very often.

He's never felt more accepted than in the fashion world – even music couldn't give him what fashion does. It's something he's somewhat (eternally) grateful for.

Kurt enters his apartment still hyped up on his plans for class rep. As he walks in the door, he see's Puck and Finn sitting in front of the TV, loudly exclaiming over the happenings in Jersey Shore. He rolls his eyes. (Even though he adores the drama and scandalous nature of the show.)

Dropping his bag on the counter, he marches up to the tv and plonks himself in front of it. Hands planted on hips, he waits for the reaction.

"You're not a window, Doreen."

Finn nods, "Yeah, what are you doing? Snooki was just about to give it to Mike!"

"Don't know why. He's a complete tool."

"If girls didn't go for that kind of thing, you'd be out of luck, Noah." Kurt replies, and then claps his hands together, "Anyway, I've something to tell you!"

They glance at each other, and then lean forward slightly expectantly. Maybe he won the lotto or something equally exciting. Puck thinks it better be exciting for the shit he's missing.

"I'm running for class rep!" He announces, his face alight with anticipation. Finn and Puck exchange a look and both groan in disappointment.

"Get out of the way of the tv."

"That was a let-down, bro." Finn tells him, and then gestures for him to move over. Kurt stomps his foot a little, beyond annoyed at their childish and awful reactions. Why did he expect anything less from them? They would hardly understand the importance of running. They have the maturity of a child, and Kurt would know, he has to live with them.

Another thing on his to-do list: move out. (He's nearly made that one, but is lacking the courage to tell any of his friends. He's even seen an apartment downtown he wants.)

Marching over to the girls apartment, Kurt breezes through the door, intent on getting some help and excitement. He needs someone to brainstorm. Quinn and Santana are glued to the tv – also watching Jersey shore, though both of them exclaim that it's rubbish – and Rachel is counting money at the table. Brittany is nowhere in sight.

Rachel glances up first, "Hey Kurt."

"Rachel, my lovely Rachel. Guess what?"

She puts her money away, knowing this is the end of her alone time for now. As she finishes, she links her hands together on the table and studies him. Before she can say something, Santana shouts out from her seat on the couch, "Is it something to do with the fact that you're having a ridiculously early mid-life crisis, which very nearly puts you above Rachel in the crazy stakes?"

He glares, but then concedes, "A little. I'm running for class rep!"

There it is, the reaction he wanted. Rachel claps her hands excitedly, her face lighting up with a giant smile, "That's wonderful, Kurt! Of course, there's a lot of preparation that will have to go with it: facebook pages, campaign slogans, policies. All of that has to be ironed out so that you've not a crack in your campaign, and then you're-"

"Don't forget some dirt on the other runners," Quinn tells him, turning around on the couch to look at him. He notices the ads are on tv.

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Not entirely necessary." She pauses, and then adds, "But it doesn't hurt if you have any. Have you thought about any of these things?"

"Well, I only decided about an hour ago. But, yes. So you'll be my campaign manager?"

Her face falls, and she adopts a guilty look, "I'm sorry Kurt, but I've a lot going on at the moment. I've a 21st birthday coming up to organise, in addition to working the theatre and keeping on top of things there. I'm playing Mimi!" She tells him, her voice rising an octave with the glee.

His eyes widen in genuine surprise, "Wow, that's great. I guess I'll have to find another campaign manager though..." He trails off, eyes sliding towards those at the tv.

"Pass." Santana states simply, eyes not leaving MTV.

Quinn snorts, "I'm not being your second-choice. Besides, I've stuff to do." She turns around to Kurt once more then, a smirk adorning her beautiful face, "Ask Brittany."

Feeling indignant and a challenge in those words, he stands, "Fine, I will. I'm sure she'll be better than you guys anyway." He falters, "Where is she?"

"Trying to catch a mouse to feed to her cat back home." Santana tells him dryly, and Quinn's smirk widens. She says nothing though and turns back around as the show returns.

Kurt feels a sinking sensation in his stomach, but sets his resolve and goes to find Brittany.

(She's eager to help because she's a kind and loving soul. Part of him wishes she refused like the others.)

Hey all! Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, you really make it even more worthwhile and encourage me to write. As usual, I don't own Glee or Friends. Also don't own Ed Sheeran's "Kiss Me" which is the title, and a brilliant song, and I ALSO do not know hello... by Mr. Richie. Thanks and welcome to my new anon reader also, captaincrunch, who really renewed my love for this story! However, I'm still not getting a lot of reviews :( Please don't make me beg people... In any case, I'll u[date again tomorrow or Friday. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews would be pretty amazeballs. Thanks,
CN