A/N: So again, thank you everybody for the kind reviews. Updates may experience a small hiccup as Spring quarter is starting up for me. First half of this chapter is maybe a touch awkward-there are a lot of things the show writers seem to like to light on fire in Quinn's character development and then only occasionally do a drive-by with the squirt gun to put it out. So the first part is a super meager attempt to square up Quinn's character for me and then the second half is the beginning of Faberry madness. Enjoy guys. :)
Sunday church services had taken on a different meaning for Quinn since the events of the previous year. Religion had always been a constant presence for her growing up, but after the pregnancy, even the most solidified things in her life seemed to dissolve. For a while, she felt like every relationship she had was ruined—including her relationship with God.
Living with Mercedes turned out to be a saving grace on so many levels. She was able to more fully remove herself from the stress surrounding Finn and Puck. It gave her time and space for introspection, to help her understand what kind of person she was, who she wanted to become. It also gave her an insight into a faith community that found tremendous joy, instead of tremendous guilt, in religion. When she moved back in with her mother, she had tentatively suggested trying out a different church. Judy had been more than willing to oblige, both wanting to make her daughter happy and glad to avoid the possibility of running into her estranged, soon to be ex-husband.
There wasn't exactly a plethora of churches to choose from in Lima, but the pair of them made the rounds for a few weeks and eventually settled. And it was there, in that small but welcoming building, that Quinn was currently trying to keep her facial muscles under control while she listened to the man currently speaking.
"... and because of that, friends and neighbors, we have made the decision to embrace every walk of life. We are proud to say our church is now open and affirming to all couples."
Whoa.
Quinn glanced over at her mother, who was making a quizzical face, before quickly resettling her gaze up front. The services moved on, discussion of some passages from the Bible and a few morality anecdotes were told—the usual. At the end, there was a little more hubbub in the crowd, but nothing else. Her mother chatted politely with a few other families before they cleared out, heading home. The car ride was silent, with Quinn deep in thought.
The timing of that is just...incredibly weird. Does God know my plan for prom queen? Her eyes glanced toward the sky and then back down. Okay, that's ridiculous, I know. But come on. Our church starts rooting for same-sex couples the day after I decide to date a girl? Wow.
Her thoughts are interrupted when they pull up to the driveway—Sam's truck is parked on the street in front of their house. Quinn felt a tremor of panic course through her.
Why is he here? I wanted time to plan a break up speech, this is horrible. Damn, damn, damn it.
Judy smiled and waved to Sam as she stepped out of the car. Seeing the ladies arrive home, he had hopped out of his vehicle and trotted over. He wasn't quite in time to get Quinn's door and instead was almost hit by it when she kicked it open herself.
Jumping back a little, but grinning, he said, "Hey, Quinn." She smiled despite her frustrated inner monologue. "I know it's a little cold, but it was so sunny out—thought maybe you'd like to go on a walk? Grab some hot cocoa and hit the park?"
No, no, no, no... .
"Sure, just let me change first."
"Cool," Sam followed them inside. He waited in the kitchen, chatting with Judy, while Quinn was upstairs flinging herself around her bedroom in angst.
What am I going to tell him? It can't wait—we have to break up—I have to start working on Berry right away tomorrow. Her popularity is going to be through the roof and I can't let anyone get their foot in the door before me. She flung a shirt over her shoulder from the closet onto her bed and started digging around in her pile of shoes. Of course, it's not like I can waltz right up to Rachel and ask her on a date. She probably …. oh. Quinn straightened, a deep frown creasing her face. What if she doesn't want to date me? We're not even really friends and what if she doesn't, I mean her dads yeah, but if.. . For the first time, she begins to question the feasibility of her plan. A knock at her door brings her out of her thoughts.
"Quinnie, I'm going to run to the store—take your keys with you when you leave."
"Okay, Mom. Tell Sam just another minute." Quinn looked down; she was holding two different shoes.
Okay, this needs to stop. Nothing should make me this anxious. I just need to make a plan. She swapped out one of the shoes for the correct match and walked over to her bed. Step one, break up with Sam. Do I really have to have a reason? Not really. I'm not going to give him the it's-not-you-it's-me, but something like it will be fine. Changing out of her formal clothes, she continued her plotting. Step two...step two needs a little adjustment. Step two, part A—make Rachel my friend. I can do that. She has offered up her friendship in the past. More than once. A tightness briefly overtakes her chest, but she pushes on.
I know how to be charming, to be friendly. And, let's face it, she doesn't have a lot of friends. It won't be hard. Then, step two, part B—we start dating. I may have to ask her, I'm not sure I can play the long game and hope for her to ask me in time for us to start campaigning for prom royalty. Two girls for prom king and queen? I bet a little nudge from me would send Rachel right into Figgins' office demanding equal opportunity prom voting. She smiles while pulling on her shoes, imagining Rachel threatening ACLU-related actions against the school. Crossing the room once more, she examines her reflection in the mirror.
"You can do this, Fabray."
The two of them have been sitting on the swings in silence for a few minutes. It really was quite cold, colder than expected. Quinn picked uncomfortably at the paper sleeve around her hot chocolate, Sam had his cup-free hand wrapped around the chain of his swing.
"So... " Sam had tried and failed a few times to make small talk, each conversation dying out after a few exchanges. He was racking his brain, hoping to come up with something his girlfriend would be interested in talking about.
Quinn tamped down her nerves as best she could and drew in a breath, "Sam, can I—we just... I need to... I-I have something I need to say."
The blond boy looked over, "Okay?"
"I don't think this is working," she couldn't even make eye-contact with him.
"What? What's not working?"
She sighed. "Us."
Sam immediately set aside his cup and dropped out of his swing, kneeling in front of Quinn. "What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?"
Finally daring to look at the stricken boy, she said hurriedly said, "No! No, Sam. You're—you're great, really. And some girl is going to be so lucky to have you. I just. You and I, it doesn't feel right. For me."
He wrapped his hands around hers, still around her cup. "Is there something I'm not doing? Please, Quinn? I don't get this."
The guilt welled up inside of her, tears pricking her eyes. "It's not...it's not... ."
"Is this about Finn?" his expression shifted, darkened.
Choking out a laugh, "No, this is definitely not about Finn." She slipped one of her hands free and cupped his cheek. "You have been nothing but sweet and patient with me, and I am so grateful for that. But our relationship, it doesn't feel real to me." She bit her lip, unsure of where her words were coming from, but she felt like she was on to something. "I care about you and I don't want to see you hurt. If I'm honest with myself, with you, I just... . There's nothing romantic about my feelings for you. When you first approached me, I... ." She hesitated, settling on the truth, "I wasn't even sure then if I was attracted to you, but I took your offer because I knew how it would look. A Cheerio and a football player."
Sam looked crushed and made to pull away.
"Please, Sam. I'm not finished." His shoulders sagged, but he stayed. "The longer we were together, the more I liked you. You can be a complete doofus," she smiled sadly, "but it's kind of endearing. What I've realized though, being with you, I care about you like a friend. I want good things for you, for you to be happy, but I can't pretend any longer that I think I'm the girl to give you those things. I don't want to be that girl." Quinn had never vocalized any of this, to herself or otherwise, before now. It was oddly freeing to think it and then say it aloud. "I love you, Sam, but I can't be your girlfriend."
He was quiet for a moment, processing everything. "Are you sure?" It was barely above a whisper.
"I'm so sorry, Sam. But, yes, I'm sure."
Sam rocked back a little, not letting go of her other hand. His eyes were shining, he was clearly struggling—trying not to cry. "Thank you for telling me the truth." All Quinn could do was nod. He nodded back and slowly released his grip, then slouched back into the swing. "I guess I'm not as surprised as I could have been."
Quinn wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, "Why is that?" I was surprised by what I said.
He shrugged, dejectedly. "I always felt like you had a lot on your mind, but that it was never about me."
The comment momentarily stunned her. It was perceptive, eerily accurate. More so than she could admit to herself. He wasn't psychic, so he couldn't know, but even in that moment, her mind wasn't entirely focused on him. Certainly a good portion of her headspace was devoted to their discussion right now. But the biggest slice of her thoughts? They were about someone else: Rachel Berry.
Sam gave her a hug when he dropped her off. She still felt bad, but it had been the smoothest and possibly the most sincere break-up of her dating life. Quinn was relieved to find her mother was still at the store when she got home, giving her some time to herself to think. She scooped up her hastily discarded clothes and put them in the hamper. Then, she hunkered down on the floor with a notebook and a pen. Across the top of a blank page she scrawled, "Operation Berry Be-Mine" and grinned to herself.
Time to plan the plan.
If looks could kill, three boys would be taking their last agonizing breaths on the floor of McKinley's hallway. Quinn's shoulders were tense, her fingers were crushing dents into her binder. And she was glaring. She had hoped to arrive at school early enough to catch Rachel on her own. Apparently, so had several members of the school population. She looked on, trying to decide what to do, as the young men in question hovered around the singer-turned-quarterback.
I bet they aren't even listening to what she's saying. Laughing, like they get her jokes. Those assho-
"Hey girl," Mercedes strolled up next to her.
"Hey," she said, feebly.
"Something wrong?"
"Kind of," she spared one last glance to Rachel before turning to face her friend, "Sam and I broke up this weekend."
Immediately sympathetic, Mercedes put a hand on her wrist, "Oh my goodness! Dish it, what happened?"
On the walk to class, Quinn gave the short version of her break-up story. As she finished, the other girl nodded sagely, "That makes sense. Not to harsh on ya'll, but it was an awful lot of blonde hair to look at when you were together." Quinn laughed, rolling her eyes, as her friend put up her hands defensively, "Just sayin'."
"Well, it's better this way. I wasn't being fair to him."
"Mmhmm. You got your eye on someone new?"
Oh my goodness, I don't know. Maybe.
"Nobody's lining up," she mugged. She let Mercedes enter the classroom first, looking back down the hall again to where Rachel stood, her fan-following having doubled in the minutes since. "Not yet anyway."
All morning, Quinn tried to catch Rachel in the halls. Every time, the small girl was mobbed by guys and girls alike, all wanting to be seen with the school football hero. At first, Rachel seemed excited about all the attention—a huge grin gracing her face. But by afternoon, Quinn noticed the strained quality to her expression. Still smiling, however, her eyes looked trapped. It was the last passing period of the day when the blonde decided to quit waiting for her turn and simply took the reigns.
Quinn was a few steps away, listening to the conversation taking place. Rachel had just let out a nervous laugh. The sandy-haired boy in front of her grinned stupidly and reached his hand up behind his neck, "So, Rach, I was wondering if maybe you and me could-"
"I'm sorry! Am I interrupting?" Quinn nudged in and smiled broadly at Rachel, not actually deigning to look at the boy she had cut off."
"Quinn!" Rachel looked genuinely relieved, "No, not interrupting at all!" The boy scowled. "In fact, you're just who I was looking for. Could you excuse us?" He looked like he was about to protest his abrupt dismissal when the diva lurched forward, hooking her arm with Quinn and said decisively, "Girl talk." Without another glance, she hauled Quinn away toward a small recess by the water fountains.
Once they were somewhat out of the way, Rachel dropped Quinn's arm. "Sorry about that. It is so tiring being this popular. I simply cannot fathom how you used to do this all the time." She shot a hesitant look out into the hall again before turning back. "I really did want to talk to you, though."
Quinn had bristled slightly at the reference to her former popularity, but softened immediately after hearing Rachel wanted to talk to her. "Me?"
"Yes, you," she was smiling, but it was quickly replaced with a look of deep concern. "It's none of my business, but having gone through the trials of a separation recently myself, I wanted to extend my sincerest empathy for your situation... " Quinn blinked at her, not following. "I heard. About you and Sam."
"Oh! Right, that." Forget your brain, Fabray? Get your head in this game. "We just weren't working out." She sighed, trying her best to look forlorn, hoping to garner more pity.
"That's too bad, but very mature of you to be able to recognize it." It looked like she had more to say, but seemed to think better of it. "Were you... did you have... it looked like you had something to say to me? When you walked up?"
Show time.
Quinn smiled shyly, "Yeah, actually. I wanted to apologize." Warm, brown eyes stared back at her in confusion. "About doubting you. The whole football thing. You were really amazing at the game this weekend and I thought about what you said—girls being able to do anything guys can do. I think it's really admirable, you taking the risk to be on the team. You had every right to be out on that field. So... ."
No retort, Berry? I've rendered her speechless. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am that good.
The blonde kept going, "I'm sorry about what I said." No answer, "Hopefully I did a better job apologizing than Finn."
Though still clearly taken aback, the last comment made her smile. "It would be hard to do worse," Quinn's eyebrows shot up, but Rachel clarified, "I mean, not that what you said wasn't very much appreciated. I'm flattered, Quinn, genuinely. Thank you, I'm sure it wasn't easy to say."
She shrugged, "I can admit when I'm wrong. It just doesn't happen very often." It was Rachel's turn to raise her eyebrows, but Quinn ignored it. "Well, we should get going. Don't wanna miss Glee." The shorter girl nodded her assent. The blonde's eyes unfocused for a moment, but then she snapped back with a curt nod. Rachel was about to ask what was up, when she found herself hooked arm-and-arm again being led out into the traffic of the hallway. The former head Cheerio was walking her to class. In fact, Quinn practically looked smug walking beside her.
Bombarded by her peers, a surprise apology and now this. All things considered, it had been the strangest Monday of Rachel's life.
Mercedes missed Kurt. She still called him all the time and they saw each other for the occasional weekend shopping trip, but high school just wasn't the same without him. Somebody to talk fashion with, compare notes on hot boys, discretely make jokes about their fellow Glee-clubbers. Right about now, she was wishing for him so she could a second opinion on Quinn's sanity. True, the girl had just split with her boyfriend, but it didn't make what was happening in front of her any less mystifying. Quinn had marched into the choir room, arm linked with Rachel Berry.
To be clear, her dismay wasn't about Rachel. Mercedes had worked past her initial annoyance with the other diva and they'd formed a friendship. And, of course, she'd bonded with Quinn the previous year. But Quinn and Rachel together? It was like ice cream and ketchup in her mind. Her befuddlement only deepened when Quinn sat by the smaller girl. Mercedes could tell Rachel was almost as confused as she was by the look on her face. She discretely pulled out her phone and opened a text as Mr. Schuester started the lesson.
"Okay gang, settle down," he smiled at his class. "So, first off, let's hear it for our footballers winning another big game this weekend." The kids clapped—Quinn sat up a little straighter, clapping first toward Rachel and then turned to beam at everyone in the room. Beside her, the brunette was smiling, but she was also eying Quinn dubiously. Mr. Schue spread out his hands, calling for quiet. "The game actually helped spark my idea for this week's assignment," he turned and headed over to the whiteboard.
A few of the students rolled their eyes as he began to write. Mercedes took the opportunity to tap out a message to Kurt.
→Something is up w Q. She and sam broke up.
Capping his pen, Mr. Schue spun in place, tossed a thumb over his shoulder and said the word he had just penned, "Inspiration."
"That's like, when you sweat a lot."
"Not quite, Brittany," the teacher sighed. "I want you guys to pick a song that really inspires you. Something that never fails to motivate you." The Gleeks started to talk amongst themselves. Mercedes looked over at Quinn was talking and grinning maniacally at Rachel when she felt her phone rumble in her pocket.
←Not surprised. I told you that boy and his bleached hair were, as Brit would say, capital G gay.
Smiling and rolling her eyes, she started to reply when Mr. Schuester called for attention again. "Put some thought into this one, guys. I want you to figure out what about the song touches you. Hey, it's Monday. How about we call that good enough?" He grinned, always trying to be the cool guy with a bunch of teenagers. Everyone vocalized agreement and thanks before bustling toward the door.
Mercedes hung back for a second to finish her text to Kurt. She watched as Rachel left the classroom, looking warily over her shoulder as a smiling Quinn trailed behind her.
→That is NOT why they broke up :p but something else is goin on. Definitely weird.
Her phone vibrated again before she was out the door.
←Oooh, a mystery! Call me tonight, I'm dying to hear about it. ;)
→Totally.
You can do this. Be casual.
After being let out of Glee early, Quinn made a brief stop at her own locker before slipping silently over to Rachel's. The smaller girl was glancing down at her planner to help her remember what books she would need to take home. Bag finally packed, she swung her locker door closed and let out a tiny squeak at discovering the blonde lurking just next to her.
"Sorry!" She wasn't, actually. Keeping Berry off-balance is probably to my advantage. "I was hoping to talk to you before you left." Rachel's expression slid from startled to guarded. "I was wondering if you could-"
"Quinn?" The brunette didn't wait for her objection to be acknowledged, "I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what is going on here?"
Don't panic, you can talk your way through this. Let's start with denial.
"What are you talking about?"
Rachel put a hand on her hip, having sensed the slight hesitation, "Do your apology and sudden niceness have anything to do with my new found popularity?"
Quinn blanched. Oh God, panic. Now panic. "N-no! Of course not. I-"
Wariness changed to reproach, "Be honest, please."
Defiance flared up in the former cheer captain, "Look, Berry, I wanted to ask for help me with my English essay."
The brunette's face fell slightly, "This is about an essay? Since when do you need help with English?"
This is going horribly. Why does she look so sad? It's...it's distracting. Big sad eyes. Damn it.
Quinn felt flustered and was sure that she looked it. She inhaled deeply through her nose and spoke slowly. "I just needed someone to look it over. We both know you're very...verbose. I thought you would probably be a good writer and could proofread it for me." The corners of Rachel's mouth quirked a little and her eyes darted off to the side before coming back, the compliment paired with the talkativeness slight were apparently well-received. "I was going to offer to buy you coffee for helping me."
Unable to stop herself, Rachel interrupted, "I don't drink coffee. Coffee has known negative-"
"Rachel," Quinn's eyes practically rolled out of her head, "I can buy you whatever. Coffee, tea, soy milk, water."
"You don't usually have to purchase water, Quinn."
Her temper was about to get the better of her when she realized the shorter girl was only teasing her. She smiled which triggered a small smile in return from Rachel. "I know the timing is a little suspect, but... ." Quinn wasn't sure what to say. The pause was starting to give her away, which is how she found herself blurting the first thing that came to mind. "You've tried to be my friend. I've mostly paid you back by being a bitch." The other girl nodded mutely, which made her flinch, "I'm done with that."
I'm not sure she's buying it.
Quinn's hands had gone clammy; the silence between them pushing her to keep talking. "I'd like to try being your friend. This is me trying, Rachel."
Please believe me, please believe me.
The little quarterback nodded, "I apologize for calling your motives into question, but I think you can understand my skepticism." Quinn winced. "I accept your offer. When is your essay due?"
The blonde gave a genuine, toothy smile, "Friday."
Rachel dropped her bag on the ground and rummaged, pulling out her planner. "I can meet you Wednesday night at 7. The Lima Bean?"
"Great, that's perfect."
A tiny tongue peaked out of the brunette's mouth as she carefully wrote. Almost to herself, she repeated the note out loud, "Quinn, coffee date, 7pm." Her eyes flashed up briefly, "I mean, not a 'date' date, but. You know. An engagement. A meeting."
Quinn just continued to smile, "Right."
"Well, see you later, then."
"Later, Rachel."
Quinn watched her walk away.
It's so a date.