A/N: I know, what kind of terrible person am I to vanish for months in the middle of a story? Well, probably not the most terrible person ever, but that was still bad form. I'm back with more words on our dear friends R&Q. It's little, but I wanted you to know I didn't die and neither has the story. And TouristSeason totally called me out on not updating a while ago on tumblr, so I had to do something. Again, thanks for the reviews-most efficient guilt-inducing technique to use against a slacking writer.
Rachel Berry is an all-or-nothing kind of girl. When she chooses a goal, she puts all her energy into achieving it. And what constitutes a goal? Anything and everything. Becoming a star performer? You bet. Earning the title of quarterback? Absolutely. Give a hundred and ten percent to ironing skirts? Well, sure, if you want to get mundane about it. This is how Rachel lives her life. So it shouldn't be a surprise that she also uses this technique for interpersonal contingencies.
That is to say, friendships.
Over the weekend following her movie night with Quinn, Rachel did a great deal of thinking. It was clear to her that, intentional or not, she was being allowed a glimpse of the inner-workings of the former Cheerio's thoughts and feelings. Though she had been skeptical of the girl's motives, she felt they were making real progress. And truly, who was Rachel to turn down a friendship? Examining her history with Quinn and contrasting their experiences she arrived at a novel conclusion—Quinn had very few friends. The girl is hit or miss at best with Finn, rarely speaks with Noah, is obviously on the outs with Santana (by extension, is only occasionally seen with Brittany) and had never been particularly close with anyone else except Sam (no explanation needed here) and Mercedes. Her insight, she felt, was both poignant and dismaying. So she set a new goal: Be the most supportive, reliable friend to Quinn Fabray that she could possibly be.
And it was with this mentality that Rachel was sitting up as straight as she could in the cafeteria on Monday afternoon, searching relentlessly for blonde hair while two very dull boys tried to make small talk with her at the overcrowded table favored by popular students.
"So, like, as the QB, you probably work out a lot, right?" An athlete of some type, the boy on her left was leaning in an exaggeratedly casual pose in his chair.
"Mmm," her head was turning every which way, scanning the noisy room.
"That's hot," the second boy offered. "I work out, you know." His name was Ian. Or maybe it was Ethan, she'd already forgotten.
An, "Oh!" escaped Rachel's lips. Ian, or maybe Ethan, smirked. He was about to offer her a ticket to "the gun show" before he realized her exclamation was not, in fact, to do with his comment. "Quinn! Quinn! Over here!" She waved enthusiastically.
Quinn had been lingering in the back, trying to decide where to sit. Mercedes was out sick, leaving her with two options given the current seating situation. She was unsure if it would be more awkward to sit with Sam, so soon after the break up, or be seen with Finn even though he and Rachel were still avoiding each other. Her internal debate ended when she heard her name being called. Rachel's wild waving made the corners of her mouth turn up and when she realized she was being invited to sit, she smiled despite herself.
Who would have thought I'd be happy to sit next to Rachel Berry?
She approached the table slowly, "Hi, Rachel."
"Would you care to join us for lunch?" Quinn looked pointedly at the boys on either side of the tiny quarterback, both stared back coolly. Rachel turned to the boy slouching at her left, "I'm sorry, could you possibly move? My friend wants to sit down." Sullen, he shrugged and pushed himself out of the chair. Rachel gave him a toothy smile and a "thank you" before turning back to Quinn and gesturing with her hand.
Quinn stepped around the boy, who was still standing beside the table awkwardly, and dropped into the seat. She was fighting a cocky grin when she murmured, "Thanks, Rachel." Oh the power of popularity, how I've missed you.
"Of course!" The ousted boy finally took the hint and walked off, but the table still held half a dozen silent students, trying to make sense of this new dynamic. After all, they had just adjusted to fawning all over a female quarterback, bringing the disgraced, teen-mom and former cheerleader to the table was a disorienting move. Rachel, however, was impervious to their discomfort, "I trust you had a good weekend, Quinn?"
"Um, yeah. Pretty good. How was yours?"
Nodding, "Splendid," she munched away on a celery stick. A small murmur of conversation began to trickle from the other students and Ian-possibly-Ethan decided to resume his efforts.
"You're in orchestra or something, right?"
Rachel turned to address the boy, but Quinn was already firing off her own answer. "Glee. She's in Glee."
The boy ignored her and kept addressing Rachel, "Whatever. You like music? My friend's band is playing Saturday. I'll take you with me. Sound good, Berries?"
Rachel's mouth was opening to reply, but once again, Quinn's voice was first out of the gate. "What did you just call her?"
His eyes turned on Quinn, "Wasn't talking to you, baby bump. I'm talking to her," he tilted his head toward Rachel. The girl in question was watching, mouth agape, her eyes bouncing back and forth throughout the exchange.
"Baby bump? Really clever—when it was being said last year. While I'm sure your friend's crappy garage band is fantastic, Rachel is out of your league. So why don't you drop it and save yourself the embarrassment?"
"Who the Hell asked you?"
"No need to ask—it was just some free advice, jerk. She's got plans, anyway."
"Look, bitch-"
"Stop it!" Both of them turned to look at Rachel. Stupid guy, Rachel is totally furious right now. Look at her.
"Quinn," Wait, why I am getting the lecture-face? "I appreciate your...assistance, however, I can handle this." Am I in trouble? That guy was being a – "Now," Rachel turned to face the boy, "Ethan, I-"
"Ian. My name is Ian."
"Right, that's what I meant. Ian, thank you for the invitation, but I will have to decline. I do, in fact, have plans." Quinn felt a twist in her chest. She really does have plans? Who does she have plans with? "I'm going to have to ask you to apologize to Quinn."
"You serious?"
The whole table was quiet and staring again. "I assure you, I am serious." Quinn smirked at Ian and clasped her hands in her lap. "And Quinn, please apologize to Ian."
"What? But he was the one who called m-"
The smaller girl held up her hands for quiet, "You both ventured out of line, and I only eat lunch with civilized people."
I can't believe this. I was defending her and now I have to apologize? This guy—I am totally getting him back for this. She was considering refusing when Rachel slid her hand under the table, reached over and squeezed her wrist. The contact snapped her out of her inner tirade. The touch signaled acknowledgment and the expression on her face confirmed it. Oh. I'm not the one in trouble, Rachel is just being diplomatic. I can handle that, I suppose.
"Fine." She fixed her eyes on the boy dully and said, "I apologize." She was rewarded with a smile from Rachel, who then turned to Ian.
He snorted, "Whatever, I've got better things to do." Shoving his chair back loudly, he tossed one more withering gaze at Quinn before stalking off.
Rachel shook her head slowly, "So disrespectful." After a pause, she let her gaze travel over the other girls and guys at the table, "Don't you think?"
Quinn watched, astounded, as all the students erupted with concurring comments. "Rude!" "Totally!" "Who does he think he is?" Rachel looked back over at Quinn and smiled, finally releasing the other girl's wrist. She smiled back, a little dazed.
She's actually good at being popular. Everybody at this table is completely enamored with her and follows her lead. Quinn started working on her lunch, occasionally marking the other girl interact with her admirers. Amazing.
Later that day, Quinn and Rachel were walking together to Glee. Quinn had been trying to come up with a casual way to find out about Rachel's plans for Saturday night. Nothing had presented itself.
"What are you doing Saturday night?" she grimaced. It sounds so desperate. Ugh.
"Hmm?" Rachel's thoughts had apparently been elsewhere.
"Saturday? You told that," she scowled, "guy you had other plans. What are they?" She quickly added, "Just curious."
A soft chuckle, "Oh, that! I don't actually have any plans."
"But... ."
"I was afraid he was going to ask me on some kind of date—when you provided the excuse of a prior engagement, I jumped on it. After dating Finn and my brief tryst with Noah, I've decided I need to raise my standards in suitors. Not that Finn and Noah aren't good guys, although Noah really doesn't make good choices with respect to the legal system-" Quinn gently cleared her throat, which put her back on topic. "Anyway, I've decided I will only consider persons with both integrity and intelligence. I find it highly unlikely that Ian boy possesses copious amounts of either."
The six sentence Berry burn, how did that feel, Ian? "Ah, I see. Good call."
"However, there is something I'd like to do... ."
Quinn latched onto the comment, "Oh?"
They had reached the door to choir room and Rachel was hanging back, a little of her shyness resurfacing. "Well, I really enjoyed the other evening. When we watched Marie Antoinette together. I did some research and found other films by the same director and wondered if perhaps you'd like a sequel? I mean, not to the film, of course, that doesn't make sense. But a repeat. Another movie night. If you don't have plans? I mean, only if you want to, of course."
She didn't consider why her face felt warm or why the smile she was wearing was entirely unforced, but she did want to reassure Rachel about spending time with her. For the plan, you know. "I'd love to, what movie did you pick? Or is there a list?"
The shorter girl wrinkled her brow, "Well, Sofia Coppola actually hasn't directed very many films. I saw she used Kirsten Dunst again in The Virgin Suicides, but that sounded ghastly. I mean, dramatic, certainly, but not a fun film for a movie night. But I was thinking, maybe Lost in Translation? It had mixed review-"
"That's one I haven't seen yet. Let's do it."
"Great! Um, my house again? We could order in another pizza, only this time I get to pay."
"We'll see about that," Quinn stepped forward and held open the door for Rachel. "After you, madame."
"Why, thank you!"
Finn watched the two girls disappear into the room from the edge of his locker door. "Weird. That is so weird." He swung the metal panel closed slowly and stared hard into the distance. He was thinking. Or he was trying to, anyway.
From an early age, Finn realized he would never be the smartest boy. But that was okay, he could be the tallest one instead. He tried to do right by his friends and his family, though he occasionally got confused or distracted or both. At this moment, he was confused. Sitting in Glee, he was watching Rachel and Quinn chat and laugh together. It just didn't make sense to him. Quinn had been so upset with Rachel, about her being on the football team. And he thought she was really disappointed in him for getting kicked off said team because of Rachel. So why was this happening?
When the other Gleeks were filing out of the room, Finn bit his lip and made a questionable decision. "Hey, Santana. Wait up." Santana didn't make any effort to slow down or stop, in fact she rolled her eyes, but her back was to Finn so he didn't notice. "Please? I just want to ask you something. It'll only take a second."
Santana slapped her hand on the door frame, "What, Finnessa?" She decided she'd rather have whatever stupid conversation he had planned conducted in private than in the middle of the hallway. Turning around, she gestured impatiently for his delivery.
"Look, is something weird going on between Rachel and Quinn? I mean, I think there is something weird going on, but do you know what it is? They're like all friends and stuff."
She arched an eyebrow and raised her chin slightly, "I've noticed. Go on."
He shrugged and looked around the room, "I dunno. It just feels wrong, you know? Quinn was being super nice to me the other day and was like, mad at Rachel—a little more than she usually is—and now all of a sudden it's the other way around. Mad at me, nice to Rach."
"Super nice to you how, jolly giant?"
"Well, she was trying to help me get back on the team. I think she was, anyway. Telling me what to do and stuff."
Santana's lips had parted slightly in thought and her gaze drifted to the side of the classroom. "Interesting." Refocusing on Finn, she asked, "Did she say anything about Berry when that was going on?"
He scratched the back of his head, "Told me to be nice to her. Get on her good side. Quinn was angriest about me not being the quarterback anymore."
A different kind of glee was filling Santana, but she put on a mask of indifference, "I don't know. Maybe loca is pregnant again and her hormones are making her an idiot."
"Hey, that's mean."
"Is it? Helping a doofy McDumbass like you and befriending butt-ugly Berry? Sounds like Blondie has a screw loose to me. What do you care, anyway? Neither of them is dating your skelo-grow freak show."
"You know what? Never mind." Exasperated, Finn stormed out.
Smiling to herself, "So Quinn is spending all her time with Berry after trying very hard to keep her from becoming quarterback. I knew something was up. Time for a little reconnaissance work."