Quick note, this is a slow story. Quinntana comes up, it does. I just want to get some things out of the way first. I thank you again for continuing and I hope you like it.

The house starts to grow on Quinn on the first night. She thinks it's the bed, because it has no connection to the one that she wishes she had burned in the last house. Mercedes thinks it's the location, a lower part of the hills and far less pricey than the five bedroom house that was just sold. Tina and Puck chalk it up to how much sun is allowed in. Something that Quinn, at first look, was unsure of because she thought it was too much sun but that first morning she woke up in her new bed and new sheets. There was something about the way the light filtered through her bedroom window. Almost cleansing in the way it started at her feet and then met her eyes. Not harshly and intrusive but calming and fresh.

Quinn will never tell Puck or Tina that they are right about the sunlight. She'd rather keep that secret to herself or they will all chime in with, it was their idea to pick it.

Sunday evenings are Quinn's nights to prepare for the week. This week especially with the press junket starting. Mercedes is usually always on edge but more so than usual this time around. Maybe it's the fact that Quinn's soon to be ex-husband keeps reaching out to her. Or the fact that the paparazzi, even though they have not been able to get a photograph of her in her new house, have been camped outside since Mercedes bought it. Which, for people who make a living stalking other peoples lives, shouldn't be all that impressive, but it is.

Mercedes is sitting on a newly bought couch, one of the many pieces of furniture that Quinn had to check off on a very long list from Mercedes. Papers cover her carpet and Mercedes is muttering to herself about questions and answers. A process that Quinn learned to just sit and wait until Mercedes tells her what to say and not to say in interviews.

"Okay, whatever entertainment weekly does, they should be in the green light to ask. I told them not to talk about your marriage or dating or love life. Family is out of the question. If they do try, so help me I will-"

"I'm pretty sure Rory knows better than to go against you when it comes to the questionnaire, besides, Coop will be there next to me. If there is one other entertainer that has a long list of 'do not ask these questions', it's Coop." Quinn shrugs from her position on the floor with a glass wine in hand.

Cooper Anderson. Hollywood heartthrob, baby blue eyes that melt anyone staring into them, body of a greek god and a smile that could charm anyone's pants off. Great personality, sweet and generous. To everyone, he would be a perfect man. Unfortunately, not for Quinn Fabray.

The first time she met Cooper, he was wasted at an awards after party. A flute of champagne in one hand and his other extended out toward her asking her to dance. In his drunken state, he impressively keeps to the beat of the music, but during a final twirl he brings her back close to him and whispers a secret that he was all to happy to announce.

A secret that Mercedes apparently had known about well before the media had gotten a hold of it and spun in it a way that almost made it ridiculous to imagine. So when Quinn had gotten the lead role in an untitled production, the choice on her co-star was a no brainer.

"Well I wish another co-star of yours was as easy to coordinate around like Coop." Mercedes says this underneath her breathe but Quinn doesn't miss the frustrated sigh that follows it.

"Mercedes..."

Her manager raises an eyebrow, "You know if it isn't your marriage that I'm constantly monitoring with the team, its Santana Lopez."

Quinn sets her glass down, "I haven't seen Santana since we wrapped." She knows Mercedes is talking about other forms of communication.

"Apparently you don't have to see each other because twitter and instagram are just full of you two and I'm not talking pictures."

Quinn can't hide the smile that creeps up onto her face. Because she knows what Mercedes is referring to. The comments between Quinn and Santana are at most, innocent. Merely teasing to what they could be. They had started out very diplomatic and supporting of one another when the show had started. Constantly tweeting each others success and accomplishments with kind words and encouragement. A social media relationship that both teams were wary of but had let both girls do as they wanted.

It wasn't until the set pictures started popping up in rather odd angles and too close for Mercedes comfort that someone had to step in and tell them to mindful. The show of course craved the attention, loved it, it was free promotion even though the girls weren't actually promoting the show but more their crazy antics. Both of the girls respective teams, however, were constantly reviewing comments and pictures posted.

"We're friends, Mercedes. Can't I talk to my friends?"

Mercedes reaches for her own wine glass on the coffee table, "You got her number, text it to her. You have a failed marriage on your shoulders, you don't need a scandal involving your co-star on top of it."

"You can take your white hat off. Santana and I are just friends."

"You barely know the girl."

"I'm pretty sure an entire season with my mouth attached to hers says I know her more than barely."

"Do you know the rumours that follow her?"

Quinn stands and grabs a quilt off the back of the couch to wrap around herself, "Why does that even matter? You of all people should know how rumours work and why they follow people."

Mercedes exhales soundly, her frustration as blatant as Quinn's. She opens her mouth to argue back but she stops before words can even form. Being Quinn Fabray's manager comes with it's ups and downs, Mercedes knows that, but with the constant beams that aim at Quinn's personal life she can't help but be protective.

"Is this why you canceled the InStyle shoot for Wednesday? Because you think it will make me look bad if I go and support a friend?"

"Quinn…"

"The entire cast of the show is going to be there. Do you really think me not attending is going to make it look any better?"

Mercedes closes her eyes shut, fingers rubbing circles at her temples in hopes that the conversation will cease but she knows it won't. When Quinn Fabray is on a roll, there is no stopping her. The best course of action is to walk away and let the conversation sit with Quinn until there is a text message at 2am with the words 'I'm sorry'.

"I'm going to go. I suggest getting a good nights sleep because you have 7am tomorrow with Cooper. Puck will be here at 530 to pick you up. Makeup and fitting is at 615."

The front door closes before Quinn can register that Mercedes is gone.

7am rolls around with silence. Quinn plays her part with Cooper. Talks kindly and with praise the entire morning. Thankfully Cooper doesn't comment on her overly diplomatic and forced nature though he does eye her from time to time during the photoshoot. She thinks she can almost get away with it until Cooper gently grabs her hand before she can leave, his eyes silently questioning her.

"I'm fine, Coop."

He says nothing but nods in acceptance that that is all he will get. She in turn is grateful he doesn't push it more than that.

The rest of the day passes with a blur. Little appearance here and there. Questions about the movie, questions about the TV Show and to Mercedes credit no questions about her life changes. And even though the day isn't as full as it could be, Quinn can be thankful that, for once, the world is interested in her work and not her personal life.

A sudden stop on the way home at 9pm has her lurch forward. Her reflection of the day gone and replaced with confusion.

"Puck?"

"Sorry. I didn't see the light in time." She watches from her seat in the back and notices his eyes darting back and forth between the rear view mirror and the side view mirrors. The muscles in his face contorting in curiosity and caution.

"Puck, what's wrong?"

The car starts forward as the light changes, "A black SUV about two cars behind. It's been following us since Lexington."

Mercedes turns her head to look, "Paparazzi?"

Puck shakes his head and returns his attention to the road, making the usual turns, his eyes checking the mirrors every now and again, "I'm going to take a different route and see if this guy follows."

Quinn's nerves spike and she can feel the anxiety creeping up in her chest. She pays attention to Mercedes who has her eyes glued to the side view mirror. The car ride turns eerily silent and Quinn's mind wanders to possible scenarios. Her heart begins trying to escape her chest with every new terror she imagines. Husband? His mother? God forbid her own mother.

As the car drives down a familiar road, whatever danger there was vanishes but only for a moment because Puck is stopping a house short of hers and Mercedes is turning around to tell her to stay in the car. The driver's side door is opening and Puck is already outside waving his hand frantically at the same black SUV from earlier.

She can't hear much other than Puck spewing curse words at the other car. But when a oddly familiar figure steps out, Quinn squints.

Quinn doesn't wait for Mercedes to confirm anything. She is out the door before any protests come from her manager. Her hands pulling her cardigan tighter around her frame, a smile plastered on her features as she approaches Puck and the other figure.

"Dave Karofsky."

A man, much larger than Puck, waves shyly to her. After seeing the same man for nearly 6 months straight stand at attention in front of entrances and events, it would be hard to misplace him.

"Ms. Fabray."

"Oh no, please, you know to call me Quinn by now."

Puck pats him on the back to bring him a little closer, "I told him he scared the shit out of me following us like that."

"I wasn't following! You just happen to take the same route." Both men laugh and Quinn suddenly remembers why she had become so interested in Dave being present.

"Is?"

Dave has no time to stop her because she is already knocking on the back passenger window, waiting for a friendly face to appear in front of her. But the window only makes it to about half way when Quinn notices that the brunette she is expecting is not on the other side. A lighter brunette pops up in front of her instead, eyes just as wide as hers.

"Quinn!"

"Marley..."

They stare at each other in silence, Puck and Dave having a small conversation about a game in the background. Quinn takes a chance to look around Marley but front passenger window starts to roll down and Quinn is met with another familiar face. One that she doesn't see as often as people would think.

"Kurt." It rolls off her tongue with such a precise pronunciation that everyone listening wonders if she is filled with curiosity, dread, hesitation, or some other strange cocktail of emotions.

"Quinn."

Her demeanor quickly changes from hopeful to business, "And what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you tonight? Does this have to do with the InStyle shoot?"

Kurt slants his head at the question, an amused smile on his face, "And here I thought it was you coming to us about the shoot."

"What are you talking about?"

"You tell me, you're parked in front of the driveway."

Quinn is about argue that the her driveway is a house down but it gets caught somewhere in her throat, her neck turning at an almost painful speed to look at the house behind her. Her mind tries to wrap around the information and she ends up shaking her head with a chuckle.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

The situation is comical to say the least. To think that Santana had been this close the entire time, Quinn laughs. She wonders if this is the reason for the all day paparazzi crowd. It would make sense as to who they were really waiting for.

Kurt makes a sound as if asking her to clarify but she doesn't pay attention as she continues to take in the house.

"Quinn? Hey," Fingers snap in front of her eyes and she has to blink a few times before turning to face Kurt fully again, "You didn't answer the question. What are you doing here?"

"Is she home?" Kurt frowns and starts to shake his head but Marley is basically climbing out of the window like an over excited puppy.

"We just dropped her off!"

Kurt's mouth drops and he is turning in his seat trying to swat Marley to get back in the car, "Marley! Sit down! Damn it." They bicker for a few seconds until Marley concedes and resumes her previous place in her seat. Kurt faces Quinn once more with a sigh, "She's feeling sick so no midnight shenanigans."

"Please, it's barely even 10."

"Don't you have a press tour to prepare for?"

"She does." Mercedes appears next to Quinn, arms folded across her chest.

"Mercedes, how nice of you to join us. How are you?" Kurt's voice is laced with fake cheer, the kind of tone that anyone listening would know that these two weren't the best of friends. When Mercedes continues to glare back at him, Quinn decides maybe now isn't the greatest of times to try and weasel her way out of more prep.

"Right, well, I'll call her."

Kurt's window is already moving up, "You do that." His eyes never leaving Mercedes' steely gaze.

There is something interesting about not naming a character and watching that unfold with an audience. I do have a name for the son of a bitch and I have actually edited myself not to write his name beyond my outline. Thank you again for reading, I hope that answered some questions. If it didn't well...shit I'm sorry.