AN: I have changed the formatting between sections. Instead of (Break) it will now go in numerical order. Consider it a mark of sorts between "chapters" of the story. Please, please keep in mind that this story is so crazy that it has now passed over into the absurd. Also: I am a huge fan of Lea and Dianna. I mean no harm or insult. This story is all about having some fun.

(1)

"Please stop fucking with the remote." Quinn rammed the girl in her elbow. Shoved her slightly to Quinn's left so that she'd have a clearer view of the screen.

"Ouch, go easy," the girl hissed at Quinn. "Are we having sex or watching TV?"

"Both," Quinn replied curtly. She switched the channel to FOX.

Quinn glanced at the TV as she made short work of removing the girl's shirt. The character played by Rachel Berry stared silently back at her. She was currently serenading her love interest, Charlie Evans. But Quinn could hear nothing. This irritated her immensely.

Quinn unbuttoned the girl's jeans without taking her eyes away from Rachel. "How do you get this thing off mute?"

The girl looked at her sharply. "Is it really that important to you? Aren't I enough to keep you entertained?"

Kissing the girl pointedly on her neck, Quinn mumbled, "I like white noise when I'm having sex. Don't let it trouble you."

The girl jabbed at the remote before bending down. "It's that one right there."

Quinn hit the mute button, turned up the sound on Lea Michele, and once again directed her attention to the girl who had her head between Quinn's thighs.

(2)

"Why are you not at your apartment?"

Quinn could detect Rachel's weariness even through the phone. She willed her body and mind to wake at the same speed. She was overly groggy from being woken so abruptly by the buzzing of her phone. Quinn glanced around the room. She was alone. She could make out light rustling noises from down the hallway. The girl must be in the bathroom or something. Quinn whispered into the phone. "I'm on my date. It's on the schedule for tonight, remember?"

Rachel sounded frazzled. "Oh fuck, I thought that was tomorrow! What's his name and where did he take you?"

"Her name is Heather and we kept it casual. We went out for pizza."

And, on those points, Quinn had told Rachel no lies. She'd met Heather at the dance studio almost a month ago. Quinn had watched with some amusement as Heather had tried to teach The Single Ladies dance to a couple of clueless guys in one of the modern dance classes. Quinn had been subtly flirting with the girl from that day forward. When Heather finally dumped her boyfriend because he couldn't get along with her best friend, Quinn zeroed in on her.

Heather had bluntly told Quinn that she wasn't that into that. But Quinn wasn't one to quibble over such minor details. And Heather was a little too fixated on her best friend for Quinn to think the girl didn't have some experience with someone with the same plumbing as her. Heather talked about her best friend nearly constantly. Even during their date, it was Naya this and Naya that.

"Everybody thinks she's a bad person, but she's not." Heather pouted at Quinn.

Quinn's nod of sympathy had been one hundred percent sincere. "Yeah…that's what my best friend used to say about me." And with that statement, Quinn had unleashed the flood gates and out of Heather's mouth came pouring a stream of Naya stories. Quinn had allowed Heather to ramble on about Naya until she'd managed to get the girl home and undressed by the glow of Glee playing out in front of them on TV.

Now, Quinn was on that same couch but Heather was missing in action. Quinn leaned forward enough to peer down the hall.

She jumped back at the sound of Rachel's outraged voice. "This better be a joke, Quinn! You most certainly did not go out with another girl!"

Listening for Heather's footsteps, Quinn said, "Rachel, I don't date men. The only guy I ever went out with was Finn…and you know how that story goes."

"But you told me! And you promised Ryan!" Rachel was seemingly having trouble formulating complete sentences.

Quinn tossed her clothes on as quietly as was possible given her current predicament. She heard a toilet flush and knew she was running dangerously short on time. "I gave you and Ryan my word that I would publicly date someone else. I never said that someone else would be a man."

Rachel's agitated tone battered at Quinn. "You know perfectly well that Ryan meant for you to date a guy. Get your ass home!"

Quinn slipped out the door and walked swiftly to her car. "Why does it have to be me? You're the number one draw to that show. Jesus, I'm not even on it!"

Rachel's voice rose higher in apparent indignation. "Because then you come across as a nice, wholesome straight girl who has zero interest in dating the female lead of FOX's number-one comedy! Furthermore, Ryan doesn't want to break the illusion that I could be dating Chord in real life."

Quinn eased the car out of the parking spot. "Shouldn't that be enough? Can't it remain between your PR firm and Chord's? Why keep involving me?"

There was a pause from Rachel…followed by a drastic change in Rachel's tone and the flow of the conversation. "Your pills are still on the kitchen counter. Why did you not take them?"

Shit, huge misstep! Quinn banged her hand against the steering wheel in an act of frustration. She had been careless, forgetful. She'd not taken any pills that day. It was getting progressively easier for her to hold out during the daytime and only treat herself to the pills at night. But Quinn badly needed Rachel to believe in her addiction for a bit longer. Ryan was pressuring Rachel to sell her half of the studio to Quinn. Yet Rachel would consistently counter that she could do nothing of the sort, she'd be leaving Quinn in a precarious financial situation if she pulled out and left her dry. But the odds were gradually, haltingly turning in Quinn's favor.

None other than Dianna Agron had recently raved about the dance studio via a rather lengthy essay on her website. And, thanks to a role in a Spielberg movie, Dianna was making the kind of waves Rachel Berry could only manage to ride in her dreams. Dianna's words carried weight. She had referred to the studio as a "magick place I escape to when I hear that voice inside my head telling me to dance, dance, dance and recharge. I'm always a little sad when I have to leave that space, but I emerge from down that rabbit hole feeling rejuvenated and ready all over again to be kind and let love in."

Quinn had somewhat expected Dianna to upload a video of Arthur prancing around one of the dance rooms, but it (surprisingly) never came. Regardless, "Fabray's Studio is Magick" trended worldwide on Twitter for two days thanks to Dianna. Membership numbers were at a record high. Quinn was relatively confident that she could keep the business more than afloat once Glee washed Rachel out to sea.

And, for its part, Glee was playing its role to perfection. It kept dunking Rachel beneath the waves, but she had thus far resiliently resurfaced and trudged back to shore each time. Until that storm carried Rachel away in its wake, Quinn would do best to keep up the façade.

She lowered her voice an octave, tried to make her words quiver, and said, "I forgot to take them! You have me so fucking stressed out with all your Glee shit."

"You're stressed out? Oh, that is rich! You know what? I'm taking these pills. Just…don't even bother coming to your apartment. Drive over to my place. Meet me there. I'll give you however many pills you want tonight to make up for pilfering these two from you. Okay?"

Quinn sighed and turned her car around at the next stoplight. She was too tired – or maybe too enthralled by Rachel's offer – to go against Rachel's request. She'd simply have to sustain this charade until that glorious day when Quinn Fabray became the lone and only proprietor of a magick dance studio in West Hollywood.

(3)

Quinn put her arm around Rachel and brought the other girl closer. She was anxious as to why Rachel wasn't already conked out. She'd taken the Xanax hours ago. But Rachel was still wide-awake and talkative. Very talkative. Quinn was full-out baffled.

Rachel was holding forth on her favorite subject: Glee. "And if the fans would calm down even a fraction. I'm not asking for a lot."

Quinn frowned into Rachel's hair before grabbing at the bait and indulging Rachel in a little Glee-talk. "I'm perplexed as to why Ryan has such an issue with you dating women. You're with one on the show."

Rachel rolled on top of Quinn, briefly taking Quinn's breath with her. "Oh my God, Quinn, how is this not easy for you to comprehend? Charlie…is…a…boy!"

"But the 'outrageous' twist was that Charlie is actually a girl, yes? What am I missing?" Quinn was, for the moment, reasonably interested in pursuing this line of questioning.

"You are missing the larger point! Ryan wants to play it as a gay relationship masked as a heterosexual one. He thinks it's revolutionary."

Quinn watched as Rachel's fingers made swooping, concentric patterns along her temples. "I'm siding with the fans, Rachel. It was weird and offensive to have Lea sing The Crying Game to Charlie. That was in poor taste."

Rachel instantly went on the defensive. It was eerie to witness the transformation. "I thought it was a completely legitimate way for Lea to express her feelings of confusion upon hearing Charlie's confession." Rachel spoke as if addressing a reporter. "The song also provided for a nice summary of Lea's continued attraction to her…him. Damn it! I meant him."

Quinn cupped Rachel's chin in her hand so that she could meet Rachel eye to eye. "Him or her, Rachel, which one? It can't be both, you know."

Rachel spoke through gritted teeth. "Charlie is a girl with a penis. The other characters still think she's a boy, boy. Charlie has only told me the truth!"

"Okay…so…why not let Lea and Charlie kiss on-screen anymore? You can understand why the fans are angry. You and Chord used to kiss in every scene before the big disclosure. It's gone from making out all the time to nothing but secret glances and hugs."

Rachel fidgeted around in the bed. "But we've implied that so much is going on between them! We've hinted to the audience that we take baths together, for the love of God! I mean, hello! I feel Charlie and Lea have just done as much as we have before the revelation, to be honest with you."

Quinn scowled at Rachel. "How much, again, are they paying you for this bullshit?"

Rachel slapped Quinn lightly on the arm. "Money is the furthest thing from my mind. This storyline? It's controversial…and a very touchy subject. But it will deliver, I can guarantee it. I trust Ryan's instincts. And I agree with him: It's best to tread especially lightly with this delicate of an issue."

Quinn laughed as she maneuvered Rachel exactly where she wanted her. "Delicate? The whole damn thing is about a hundred leagues out to sea and moving straight in the direction of fucked-up." Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Quinn stopped her with the effort of her hips thrusting against Rachel. "Enough about Glee. Can we hurry up and get to all that sex we're about to have? Or is there some secret you're hiding from me, Rachel Berry? Could you, perhaps, be a boy?"

Rachel giggled as she attempted to swat Quinn away from tickling down past her stomach. "Stop joking about the storyline! I mean it!" Rachel grasped Quinn's hands tightly as she pushed against her. They locked eyes. Things were suddenly much more to Quinn's taste. Rachel gave her a mischievous wink as she lowered her mouth to meet Quinn. "But…if I had a penis, I want you to know that it would be massive, Quinn Fabray. Massive!"

Quinn chuckled softly as she lazily matched Rachel's rhythm. "Maybe so, maybe so. But you're always gonna be a bottom, Rachel. Never forget." And to drive home her point, Quinn quickly flipped Rachel over and pinned her down on the bed.

(4)

Quinn was on the cusp of sleep when Rachel's exhausted voice pulled her back from the ledge. She'd spent hours illustrating to Rachel just how much of a bottom the girl truly was…and Rachel still couldn't sleep?

Rachel's words carried out to her in the dark. "Remember that episode where the Glee club films a TV commercial for a novelty store?"

Quinn turned toward Rachel. "Ummm…I think so."

"It had that ridiculous montage where we bounced around on pogo sticks to Van Halen's Jump."

Quinn nodded against Rachel. "Yeah, you had bruises on your legs for weeks."

"Ryan wants us to perform that song during the tour. On the pogo sticks!"

Quinn snapped her mouth shut to halt the laughter that had bubbled up in her throat. She went with a neutral tone when she was finally able to speak again. "That's gonna look…awkward on stage."

Rachel sat up and tossed the sheet off her body. "So, now, on top of rehearsing, recording, and filming…we have to go through extensive pogo stick training beginning next week!"

Quinn reached for Rachel, endeavored to get her back to a prone position. "Keep the bright side in mind, Rachel, because all that practice will make your thighs even more fuck worthy."

Rachel snaked out of her grip. "Forget fucking, I'll barely be able to walk when this tour is over!"

Quinn sniggered. "I've seen you unable to walk. Hell, I've made you that way. They really ought to market that look."

Rachel stood up violently and stalked across the room. "You're being insufferable! I'm sleeping on the couch!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Rachel's retreating form. Covering her face with the comforter to mask her laughter, Quinn tried her hardest to picture Rachel Berry on a pogo stick. In front of thousands of people. Singing Van Halen's Jump. But it was much too absurd for her imagination to conjure…so she fell asleep instead.

(5)

"Jenchel?"

Quinn stretched and tossed her book aside. It was awards season, which meant Quinn had many Rachel-free evenings at her disposal. She'd started a couple of books. Couldn't sustain much interest in them. Tried her hand at baking. Gave up after one half-hearted attempt. Strangely, she always found herself back on the couch, watching red carpet footage in anticipation of catching a glimpse of the girl now waiting on her to respond. Quinn sighed. "I'm the first to confess that Jenchel doesn't flow from the tongue as nicely as Faberry, but shipper names are such strange beasts."

Rachel plopped down beside her with a frantic expression covering her face. "Great. Really, really top rate. People shipping me with Jenna. All because of that stupid Billy Bush!"

Quinn risked a glance at Rachel's iPad and the site that was so captivating Rachel's attention. "Admit it, Rachel, that was an oddly intimate display of affection. And not getting to the interview on time? What was with that?"

Rachel narrowed her gaze at Quinn. "We saw Claire Danes in the ladies room! We were giddy and star struck, so we ended up a few minutes late to the interview. Why, why, why should that have been such a problem?" Rachel's look was a pleading one. It was as if she believed that Quinn alone possessed all the answers.

Quinn eyed Rachel curiously. "Um…maybe because you were all over each other backstage? Even I thought there was something more to it. She leered at your breasts like they were seriously the only things in the room. Like they were a fucking set of spotlights that had totally blindsided her." Quinn leaned further back on the couch. "If I were still in high school and making bets with Puck, I totally would've put money on you and Jenna having sex later that night."

Rachel hiccupped with laughter. "People are just so crazy the way that they spin things. It's so funny!"

Quinn shrugged. "You should be thrilled they're associating you with someone other than me. That's what I'm taking out of it."

"Not when it's with another girl, fuckface!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Rachel. "Where did you pick up that little term of endearment?"

"Jenna!"

Quinn smacked a hand down on her thigh. "Well, there you have it! You're already adopting her pet phrases. I won't lie to you, Rachel, I'm starting to ship Jenchel, too."

Rachel pounded on Quinn's chest with her feet. "You're being entirely unhelpful!"

Quinn endured the kicking. "I'm in no position to help you. Follow Ryan's party line: You both had been 'celebrating' and were 'really excited' by the 'enormity of the moment,' which I think is a fancy way of saying you were drunk." Quinn rubbed the length of Rachel's calf muscle. "You've been drinking a lot lately, I've noticed. You're about to go overboard with it."

Rachel hit at Quinn one more time. She reached for her drink. "If you had my life, you'd understand the necessity of alcohol. Trust me."

Quinn trusted her all right. Trusted her enough to have Rachel mix them both another cocktail. And a third one after that.

(6)

"Chord wanted to have a baby with me."

"I've no doubt," Quinn commented dryly.

Rachel was drunk again. Second night in a row that very week. Quinn was bored of how obnoxious and needy Rachel became when she was in this state. The first few times were fun for Quinn because drunk Rachel liked to get off hard and fast. Redundancy had set in quicker than Quinn had expected. But there was no getting rid of Rachel tonight.

Rachel pushed her phone so far in Quinn's face that she couldn't make out what Rachel was trying to show her. "No, no…not like that!" Rachel paused, swayed while standing stock still. "But, anyway, I told him that the only person I'd even conceive of having a child with was you." Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck.

Quinn wrestled against Rachel. The girl was clinging too tightly to her. "I don't like it when you come home drunk."

"Please get closer to me, Quinn, and let me take your picture," Rachel wailed. "There's this iPhone app I want us to try!"

Rachel held out her phone to Quinn once more. Quinn squinted at the display. "Build a Baby? What would be the point in this, Rachel?"

Rachel all but squealed, "So we can see how adorable and amazing our kid would look!"

Quinn scrolled through the app. "Will I be playing the role of mom or dad in this sorry-ass production that you're so intent…"

Rachel snatched the phone and snapped Quinn's picture before she could finish her sentence. "Dad, silly, as if I'd ever be anything other than a mother. Get real, Quinn." Rachel flipped her phone around and mugged for the camera.

Quinn was hypnotized by Rachel's drunken efforts at spawning their hypothetical Internet love child. Rachel snorted with laughter. Fell to the floor in hysterics. Pointed for Quinn to pick up her phone. "Ah, God, look at that thing, Quinn!"

Quinn bent down for Rachel's phone, but she stopped mid-way. "Wow! That looks all kinds of crazy. I thought it would turn out better than that." She was mildly offended.

Rachel was struggling to catch her breath as she fumbled for the phone. "I'm gonna send this hot mess to Chord…show him how real men make a baby."

Quinn had no desire to decipher that statement. Frankly, she was annoyed and achy with fatigue. Drunk Rachel also enjoyed staying up late in to the night. Quinn wasn't ready for another such unpleasant experience. She was definitely going to need a pill. Or three. She was in the kitchen when Rachel came bouncing up beside her.

"Oh, shit! Oh, damn! Oh, fuck me until Hanukkah!" Rachel was in absolute flustered mode. "I forgot to uncheck the box! I didn't uncheck the box!"

Quinn placed her hands firmly on Rachel's shoulders. "Calmly – do not yell! – explain to me what you mean about a box."

Rachel shifted from one foot to the other in a weird, manic dance. "The box! The box! You uncheck it if you don't want the results sent to your Twitter feed!"

Realization dawned like a beautiful sunrise in Quinn's mind. She'd have to angle this one very, very carefully. "Delete it and maybe no one will notice. Delete it, Rachel!" Quinn aimed to mimic Rachel's panic…but she knew she was probably falling painfully short.

"It's too late," Rachel said mournfully. She placed her phone in Quinn's hand. Pretending reluctance, Quinn ran her eyes across Rachel's Twitter feed.

Let's congratulate msrachelberry and QuinnFabray on their new bundle of joy!

They had a Fababy! OMG! LOL! Just kill me now!

PROVES THAT QUINNFABRAY IS A TOP!

Can you just confirm that you are having QuinnFabray's baby?

And a particular gem from one LimaLopez: Funny…I just had a nightmare about the same thing.

Tossing the phone on the counter, Quinn faced a quickly sobering Rachel. "Who's the fuckface now?"

(7)

"How do you spell that guy's last name again?"

Rachel enunciated slowly. "P-e-t-t-y-f-e-r."

Quinn did a fast Google search. She furrowed her brow at the results. "Let me right out of the gate say that I'm glad it's you and not me."

Rachel shut her eyes and downed a second Vicodin. The aftermath of the Golden Globes had been nothing compared to Ryan's wrath after the Build a Baby debacle. He'd decided: It was time for Rachel to get a boyfriend. Quinn wasn't sure she should choose this exact point in time to address Rachel's increasing dependency on Vicodin for her frequent headaches. But…

"Rachel, ease it with the Vicodin. It's not meant for minor aches and pains."

Rachel nodded. "Uh-huh, right, I'm on it. Hey, Quinn, did you know that our baby has its own Tumblr tag?"

Quinn did not know that. But, okay, sure…that made total sense.

Rachel sat up and smiled broadly at Quinn. "I've been doing some planning. And I think I have an excellent way around this baby stuff. I already sense that you will find my solution both brilliant and inspired. Best part: We'll be able to stay together even if I am dating Alex!"

Quinn's heart stalled out on her.

Rachel tapped her fingers on Quinn's knee in excitement. "I've even cleared it with Ryan. He adores the idea. It pretty much encapsulates the whole premise of our show: First love, high school romance, never giving up on the person you want."

Quinn was lost. She absentmindedly groped for the bottle of pills on the coffee table. "What are you even talking about, Rachel?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you getting back together with Finn Hudson!"