Disclaimer:I don't own Glee

A/N: Whoa wait - another update so soon? And almost 7k words? WHAT
(tbh idek man just roll with it I guess)
I'm getting my laptop checked out before I move back to college at the end of the month so I'm not too sure when the next update will be - but I have big plans. Big, big plans.
Again: sorry for any typos. I'm beta-less. And tired.
Oh – and PLEASE feel free to leave a comment either here or at my tumblr at whatwordsmiss. I really want this story to be the best it can be but I need your words to help me. Feedback is so important to me. Thank you so much!
Enjoy! X

Sophomore Year Part 3

.

There are many things that you don't know.

You don't know when you fell asleep. You don't know what – or even if – your mom replied to your text with. You don't know what your father is doing or if your sister smiled today. You don't know every president's name or how to parallel park in one go. You don't know the meaning of life or if there is a sliver of truth in fortune cookies.

You don't know what you're going to do about your baby. You don't know where you're going to be in five or ten years. You don't know how to get to point b from point a without getting lost along the way. You don't know why you had to live without color for so long and you don't know how you would ever live without it again.

You don't know how Rachel is so beautiful. You don't know how she is so soft and caring and you don't know how, in a world that is so mean to her, she never wavers. You don't know how someone couldn't love her. You don't know how her voice sounds like fairy lights twinkling at dusk on a warm summer night. You don't know how she stole your heart so quickly and you don't know how you could ever ask for it back.

But you do know that you never want to.

You know that your heart wasn't even ever yours to begin with. You know that it always had Rachel's name signed on it like a love letter ready to be sent to a pair of soft hands and brown eyes. You know that Rachel will always be your person through life and she will know you better than you will ever know yourself. You know that she will always be there with a soft blanket and a place for you to feel safe from a world that wants nothing more than for you to fail.

You know that you can't ignore her anymore. You know you haven't completely fallen (though you know you could if you allowed yourself) and you won't be shouting anything from the rooftops (at least, not yet), but you know that the quiet moments will be reserved just for her. You know that – even though she shouldn't – she still picked you. You know that, somehow, she will always pick you.

You know that you will always pick her.

But, most importantly, you know that she loves you. You don't know how or even why, but she loves you. She loves you even though you hate yourself. She loves you even though the world is shouting at her not to do it. To not jump because it isn't worth it. You aren't worth it.

But she loves you.

And it's enough for you to wake up.

.

Which you're kind of confused when you do. Because you're almost positive that you passed out on Rachel's sofa (on top of her).

And this is most definitely not her sofa.

Nope.

You're in her room.

What you're lying on is her bed.

Rachel's bed.

Her big, super comfy bed.

"Oh my god I'm in Rachel's bed." You feel yourself go pink but it's a different shade and you can't think about the obvious reason why – because you're in Rachel's bed.

How did you get here? Obviously it wasn't Rachel (you can't help but snort at the image of Rachel carrying you up the stairs to her room), so maybe it was her dad? You gave a harsh sigh and rub the heel of your hands into your eyes.

You're frustrated. That pretty much goes without saying. This day has been an absolute shit show and you have so many messes you need to clean up and you just don't know where to start. But you have to start somewhere, and so you decide that you should start with the one thing that could actually maybe one day make you happy.

Rachel.

So you push yourself up and out of her bed (which was incredibly hard because my god that bed is so comfortable) and slowly walk around her room, taking stock of everything you find and locking it away in the back of your gray heart.

Her walls are a light yellow and you think it's perfectly fitting because Rachel is practically the definition of yellow. There are numerous awards from singing and dancing and even some acting competitions that leave you feeling lilac inside. You smile softly when you see the tripod in the corner of the room where Rachel records her MySpace videos. You spy a few stuffed animals that makes Lucy giggle.

But your favorite thing by far in Rachel's room are the photos that line her walls. There are many of her at various competitions and even more of Rachel with her two dads throughout the years. Her other father, the one you have yet to meet, is a larger black man, and even though you can still see the colors in his eyes clear as day, there is also an underlining seriousness to him. You're anxious to meet him, because if anyone from Rachel's life would give you the hard time you deserve, you feel like it would be him.

(You pray he is as forgiving as his daughter.)

But in each photo the Berry's are smiling megawatt smiles or pulling a funny face, and Rachel is always in the middle of her fathers. It makes your heart feel a little brighter knowing that Rachel was able to grow up with a family that could give her every color of the sky. She was – and is – very well loved.

(You allow yourself to hope – if only for a moment – that maybe… just maybe… you would be able to make her smile like that.)

You spy a lone photo tucked into the corner of Rachel's mirror and you walk over to investigate. (You try hard to ignore your reflection because you really don't want to know how wrecked you look right now. But either way, your eyes still flick over your smudged make up and bloodshot eyes and the mess you call hair. You try to repair the damage but deem it futile and look back at the photograph.)

It's a photo of the New York City skyline as the sun rises behind the buildings. The photo is so bright and colorful and beautiful it leaves you absolutely breathless.

The corners are slightly bent and you assume that it's from Rachel constantly looking at it. You don't blame her. If you had something this beautiful, you would always be looking at it too.

And as if the universe wanted to remind you that you do have that something, you hear a soft knock and turn to see Rachel standing in the doorway.

She's holding a tray of food and you ignore the soft growling in your stomach because, my god, how could you have been so cruel to this beautiful girl? You're staring at her and she's staring at you and you think you're both looking at each other with new eyes.

The moment is quiet, and it's a different kind of quiet than you two have ever experienced. It's a quiet that has Rachel's yellow walls slowly turning seafoam. It's a quiet that doesn't have your heart trying to break itself out of your chest, but instead it thuds steadily.

(Because why would it ever want to leave when it finally figured out where it's meant to be?)

It's a quiet where, if you could, you would freeze time and bury yourself in this moment because it's a quiet in which you don't need anything else.

But then Rachel finally speaks and you realize that you will always need her. You will always need more of her.

(You feel your heart turn blue and pump the color throughout your entire being as you imagine always having Rachel by your side.)

"I took that photo last December," her voice is low and soft as she slowly walks over. She puts the tray down on her desk and then she's right next to you. She's staring at the photo on the mirror but you can't look away from her. Because, my god, she is just so goddamn beautiful. (You feel yourself burn with embarrassment when you remember how atrocious you're currently looking.)

She takes a deep breath and bites her bottom lip and you are completely mesmerized.

"After seeing you in the mall and thus immediately also seeing color for the first time, my dads surprised me with a trip to the city that weekend. Since it's such a long drive we stopped for the night a little more than halfway. We were on the road early enough the next morning for me to take that photo." You look back at the photo and your mind drifts back to being at the lake with your mom and you completely understand the whimsical tone Rachel's voice has taken on. "It was one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen."

You look back at Rachel to see her staring at you.

You don't move an inch because if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from kissing her. And even though you realize you want nothing more than to do just that, Rachel deserves better.

So you don't even breathe as you stand there drinking her up like it's the first time you're seeing colors. Because who knows what will happen tomorrow? All you know now is that you're standing with Rachel in her room and, for the first time in a very long time, you feel hope blooming inside of you, coloring your bones with every pastel shade you could ever feel.

"Hi."

And if your smile breaks the moment, you just can't find it in you to care at all because Rachel softly smiles back at you.

"Hello."

"Would it even be worth it if I inquired how you are faring?" You raise your eyebrow and Rachel huffs a laugh. "Right, that's what I assumed." You quirk your lips in a smile that is more like a grimace and you look down and away from Rachel's stare. "Well, I brought you up some food because I wasn't sure when the last time you ate and I have no doubt that you are feeling somewhat hungry. After all, today was rather … Eventful."

"You can say that again," you mumble.

"After all, today was rather eventful."

You flick your gaze back up to Rachel and you see her struggling not to smile so you roll your eyes and shake your head and try not to smile as well.

"Funny, Berry."

"Yes, most people aren't aware of the humor I possess. A shame, if you ask me. But, either way – their loss."

"I'd say so." Rachel smiles at you and you look over her shoulder to the tray on her desk. "Thank you… For the food. And, well, everything else. It um… You didn't have to… help me, Rachel. I um…" you take a deep breath and try to get your head on straight (isn't that the problem though) because Rachel is looking at you so unabashedly it's making your thoughts spin in a blur of color. But what you have to say is important and you need her to understand.

You shut your eyes, lick your lips, and try again.

Fix this mess.

"Rachel… I have been so…" you chuckle darkly and you have to look away, "terrible to you. Just because what? I was scared. Well… I still am scared – terrified even. And I know that it's no excuse, but Rachel… I didn't grow up like you." You gesture to the photos on her walls. "My family, we never just let go and … goofed off and had fun. From the moment I could remember, we Fabray's always had a role and a part to play. And god forbid you ever strayed from that role…"

Your hands are starting to tingle so you wrangle them in front of you and pray you can get through this impromptu speech. Luckily Rachel seems okay with waiting for you so you struggle with your breathing and focus on Rachel's yellow walls and push down the red and purple that's crawling up your spine.

"What I'm trying to say… is that I'm sorry." You look back to Rachel and she's staring at you like she's been waiting a long time to hear you say those words. And you suppose that she has been.

You're pretty sure your heart is pounding so hard it's going to break your ribs.

But you have to keep going.

"And I know that doesn't fix anything or justify my actions, but… But from now on I'm going to be trying. Just please… please be patient with me because I have a very strong feeling these next few months are not going to be easy. Like, at all. But, Rachel, I – I don't want to… cause any more pain. Because honestly I'm just so tired of it all. So please just know that… I'm going to be trying my best… whatever that means…"

How very eloquent, Fabray.

You rub your face with your hands and take a deep breath because even though you feel so exposed and vulnerable and scared… you also feel so purple inside because you feel Lucy smiling at you and you know she's proud of you (even if it did sound like you just learned the English language yesterday). But you haven't felt this kind of pride in a long time and it's nice. You feel like spinning but Rachel has yet to say anything so you open your eyes to look back at her.

You pray that Rachel understands and that she knows that this whole share your real feelings thing is one of the hardest things for you to do. Because it's easy to ignore and be mean and throw insults and slushies. But to let your walls turn to dust and give Rachel the opportunity to humiliate and destroy you…?

You look at Rachel and you feel like a fool for even ever thinking she would do that to you. Because there are tears filling her eyes and she's looking at you like you're a goddamn hero and you feel the dust inside of you begin to blow away on a warm wind.

"That's all I'll ever need, Quinn. As long as you're trying, we're going to be okay." And her voice is quiet and gentle you feel yourself crying again. But for the first time today they're tears of relief. And then Rachel's crying as well and she's holding her arms out and when she whispers, "can I hug you now," all you can do is nod your head and wrap your arms around her waist.

Later you'll totally blame all of this on the pregnancy hormones despite the fact that right now you're not even really that pregnant but whatever.

But right now you are more than content with the feeling of being wrapped up in a hug from Rachel. It's different than the hug in the bathroom earlier today; that one was filled with gray and red and complete panic. But this one? This one has you feeling coral and wishing you could spend the rest of your days holding Rachel. This one feels like you're finally able to get air into your lungs and calm down. Because the two of you fit so perfectly together.

You feel Rachel play with the hairs at the base of your neck so you nuzzle your face into hers.

If you pushed forward ever so slightly, you would be kissing her neck.

And you want to. My god, you want to.

But that's for a whole nother conversation on a completely different day because even though Rachel is making you feel brave right now, you're just not … ready.

And then your stomach is grumbling and you kind of hope Rachel didn't hear it to save you some face, but she's giggling in your ear and the sound alone is worth your slight embarrassment.

"Maybe I should take advantage of that food," you breathe against her skin and Rachel's giggles hitch and you're confused as to why until you pull away from the hug and see a light blush on her face.

"M-maybe." You can't help but smirk.

"I'm anxious to see if your cooking skills are on par with your wit, Berry," you tease her and she rolls her eyes and you swear you see her blush darken just slightly.

"Well I'll save you from the suspense and inform you that my daddy cooked the pasta. Unless it's my infamous vegan sugar cookies, me cooking you food is the last thing you should ever wish for. It is truly horrific." You look back at Rachel and expect to see her eyes lit up with mirth, but instead she has a faraway look in her eyes until she shudders and looks back to you.

You take her word for it.

You sit down at Rachel's desk and pull the tray closer to you and then you're basically drooling because oh my god this smells absolutely delicious. You twirl the spaghetti on your fork and take a bite and you can't help but moan because oh my god it tastes even better!

"Holy crap, Rach, I need to shake your father's hand because this is so good," and your mouth is still full and you don't even care about manners because you need to be best friends with Rachel's dad. Like, right now. You take another huge bite and release another huge moan and why isn't Rachel saying anything? You look over your shoulder to see Rachel standing in a daze staring at you. And – is that a little bit of drool? Why does she look… hungry? She can have some of your spaghetti if she wants –

Oh.

You look forward again and try not to choke on the spaghetti because right, of course, this whole … attraction… thing works both ways… And you were very vocal about your approval.

Oops.

(Yet you can't stop the purple butterflies in your belly because knowing that Rachel … likes you in that way… kind of makes you feel really good about yourself. Like, even better than when you made head cheerleader and your father told you he was proud of you.)

(The thought of your father has you snapping out of your Rachel haze in the blink of an eye.)

You cough once more to clear your throat and make sure you sound as professional as possible.

"Your father is an excellent chef, Rachel. Your rather large and slightly scary father. Who I am assuming is downstairs."

You glance back at Rachel to see her still standing there looking at you. And when she mumbles, "Dad and daddy left to give us some time… We're home alone…" you swear to god you're going to choke to death on this spaghetti.

Knowing you're home alone with Rachel – especially when she's looking at you like that? Not good news. Not good news at all.

You shake your head and shove more pasta into your mouth because you absolutely refuse to allow your thoughts to drift there. You take a chance and look back to Rachel and almost immediately regret it.

"Hey, Berry," you say after you swallow, "do you mind not staring at me like you're going to violate me?"

It's Rachel's turn to splutter and you feel so embarrassed you swear your face is going to catch on fire.

"Quinn – I – I," you hear Rachel clear her throat until her voice has an extra ounce of professionalism in it that has you rolling your eyes, "Quinn, I am most apologetic for my rather embarrassing gaping that was less than polite and far from being acceptable. You are here as a guest and I will treat you as such from this point forward. I will even maintain a respectful distance if you wish and I sincerely hope you understand just how genuinely sorry I am for again staring at you like you were a piece of meat – which, and while I appreciate metaphors because they are important, that was neither a metaphor nor a good analogy considering I am vegan and meat repulses me and I would most definitely not be staring at it like I was at you. Because eating meat is just cruel and horrific and you on the other hand, Quinn, are anything but with your flawless skin and shiny hair and fantastic –" you have slammed your eyes shut at this point because Rachel wasn't making things any better, and luckily she seemed to have finally realized where her rambles were taking her.

"… So before I dig my grave any deeper, I'm just going to shut my mouth and sit here quietly."

You look over your shoulder to see Rachel sitting on the edge of her bed with her eyes screwed shut and her lips pressed between her teeth. Her face is the reddest you have ever seen and she looks absolutely mortified.

You take a deep breath and move your chair around until you're on the side of her desk allowing you to continue to eat and look at Rachel at the same time.

Okay, Quinn… Rachel made you feel comfortable – which is an amazing feat, honestly, so huge props to her – so now it's your turn. Fix this.

"Hey, Rachel, it's okay. Really. I'm used to people staring at me," you clench your jaw because okay so not the right thing to say. You try again. "I mean… Rachel, it's alright. This… isn't just you… I mean, you're not – you're not alone in your… So I… I, um," you're blushing again and honestly you kind of wish you were back to crying because you haven't blushed this much since the kids dumped their lunch on your head in middle school. "I understand," and you can't look at Rachel and she can't look at you because this is the first time either of you have talked (if loaded stares and strangled sentences even constitutes as talking) about what's going on between the two of you since the auditorium last year.

It feels kind of… nice.

(You block the image of your father's glare in your mind.)

"But, um, could we also maybe… move on? To another topic or something please? Because I think my face is going to be permanently red at this rate. And I really want to win prom queen one day and I don't think that would help my cause."

"Of course, Quinn," and you feel yourself sigh with relief. "How about the topic of your pregnancy?" And then you feel yourself freeze up because okay maybe not the best topic of choice. Rachel notices the fork that stopped halfway to your mouth at her question and she begins to backtrack. "Or maybe not that topic either…?" It's asked in a tentative voice and you chew slowly to allow yourself a moment to think and collect yourself.

"No… No. No, I need to talk about this. And with what I put you through today you at least deserve to ask some questions. Just… please remember that this isn't… easy for me." Rachel nods her head, "but I'm trying, Rachel."

"And I don't doubt that, Quinn. I truly do not." She allows you a moment to take another forkful of spaghetti before she can no longer hold her tongue. "So… Do you know what your next course of action will be? Are you going to carry it or are you…?"

You look down at your feet and bite your lip. You look up at Rachel through your lashes and shake your head.

"No, I'm not going to get rid of the baby."

She slowly nods her head and you're thankful she's not judging you.

"Okay, as long as you're sure. And if you wish, I could always do some research for you? Like I said earlier, there is absolutely no judgment here." She's too nice. And also slightly psychic?

"Thank you, but I don't think I'm going to be changing my mind." You take another deep breath and move the pasta around with your fork. "I think I'll be able to hide it for a little while… But once my parents find out…" You drop your fork and wrap your arms around yourself and bow your head. Because you want nothing but to be able to shrink into yourself and vanish. Because it just hit you that you're most likely going to be losing your family because you've made a simple mistake.

(Okay, so maybe it's not completely simple – but up until this moment you have been a practically perfect daughter.)

(Which, great, now you're singing Mary Poppins in your head.)

But then Rachel's in front of you and her hands are on your knees and – really, how could you have ever called them man hands? She's rubbing her thumbs back and forth until you finally peer up at her. She's smiling at you and you feel the gray loosen its hold on you.

"Quinn, I promise you that I will be by your side through all of this, okay? No matter what. Until you tell me to go, I will always be waiting for you. With whatever you need. And I mean that, Quinn. I really do. Because even if we weren't somehow … bound… to each other, I would still be here for you, Quinn. Because you need someone to fight for you and I am more than willing to be that person for you. Do not ever doubt that. Do not ever forget that, okay? I'm on your side. And I know my dads are as well. So, I'm being serious when I say that when the day comes that your parents find out about the baby, we will be here with anything you need."

She takes a deep breath and you have to blink a million times to keep the tears at bay.

"And… And if anything drastic happens like…"

She can't finish the sentence so you do.

"Like them kicking me out and telling me that they never want to see me again in their life? And telling me that I'm dead to them?"

Rachel squeezed your knees and you sigh and try to calm the fire within you.

"If you need a place to stay, the Berry residence will always have the door open for you, Quinn. We even have a guest room so you wouldn't have to worry about not having your own space here, okay?" You look at her for a long moment, taking in the seriousness behind Rachel's eyes.

This girl is a goddamn angel.

And you want nothing more than to lean forward and press your lips against hers.

But there's a storm raging inside of you next to a cluster of cells that won't be just a cluster of cells in a few months and this isn't how you want your first kiss with Rachel to be like.

(You go pink when you realize that you actually want to kiss her and be with her. Because there's one thing in knowing that you're bound to each other like Rachel said, but it's a completely different thing actually feeling it. It makes your heart flutter.)

So instead you say, "thank you," and you hope Rachel knows the weight behind your words and how they are an anchor on your chest, pushing down until the colors are all squished together.

And she smiles and you know she understands.

"And since you're going to keep the baby until full term, you need to get to the doctors as soon as possible. Both to double check that you are in fact pregnant and that everything is okay so far." You feel the color drain from your face because how are you going to manage that? "I know you don't want your parents to find out, so we can either find a clinic we could go to, or pull some strings." You look at her with a raised eyebrow in question. "My daddy is a doctor at the hospital and he has many friends. I'm sure he would be able to swing something for you."

You nod your head and silently add another tally to the "How Many Times The Berry's Have Saved My Ass" list.

It's steadily growing.

"I know you haven't met daddy yet, but he's not as intimidating as he seems. He's quiet and likes to stay in the background of things and people perceive that as him being distant and … unapproachable, but he's really kind and gentle when you actually get to know him. He actually reminds me a lot of someone that I know…" And Rachel's smiling at you so softly she has gold flecks in her eyes and you feel yourself bashfully biting the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

"Very smooth, Berry," and you roll your eyes but inside you're grinning like a goddamn fool. Because, really, that was actually kind of smooth. Not that you would ever seriously admit that.

"And, besides, he was the one who carried you up here and he agreed with me when dad said you were cute." Annnnnd the blush is back.

Blushing because Rachel called you cute? That's actually kind of pathetic, Fabray.

(But, oh my god, Rachel thinks you're cute!)

You roll your eyes and try to win back some cool points because right now? You don't have any.

"You act like I don't already know that I'm cute," okay, so not the best you could have come up with, but Rachel is grinning at you and there is laughter in her eyes – and honestly, anyone would have a difficult time coming up with witty remarks when Rachel was looking at them like that.

"I don't doubt that, Quinn," and it's light and happy and you finally cave and grin right back at Rachel, shaking your head all awhile.

"Sorry to switch the mood again, but I still have some questions if you don't mind me asking?"

You already promised her that she could ask whatever, so you nod your head.

"When do you plan on telling Finn?"

Your brows scrunch together because tell Finn what? But then your heart stops and you feel you've been dunked in gray because Rachel thinks this is Finn's baby.

"Quinn – you have to tell him. I know it's probably rather daunting to think about, but this baby is also his and –"

"- It's not Finn's baby" you mumble out.

"… What?" Rachel pushes back from her spot in front of you until she's sitting completely on the floor. "If it's not Finn's, then who's…?"

You gulp down the blackness and look away from Rachel.

"… Puck…"

And then all of a sudden Rachel is standing up and pacing furiously across her room.

"Noah Puckerman? Noah Puckerman? Is the father of your baby? The Noah Puckerman that used to sit next to me at temple? Oh my god I'm going to kill him!"

Even though you know that this is a serious conversation, you have to bite the inside of your lip to keep from bursting out in laughter. Because an enraged – and dare you even say jealous – Rachel? Totally hilarious.

(And slightly hot but that's something else entirely.)

"If it makes you feel better, I was drunk when it happened," you try to placate Rachel. But then she's spinning on her heel to stare at you with what you can only describe as Crazy Eyes and her arms are flailing and now you're slightly concerned for her safety because you're just waiting for her to hit something.

"No it doesn't make me feel better, Quinn! In fact it only makes matters worse! Because your first," Rachel flailed for a word and after a few seconds of struggling settled on, "moment of intimacy," which you cringe at because really Rachel? "was with Noah and you weren't even sober! Which means how could you even have been sure you even – even enjoyed it!" You blush because this is actually slightly mortifying but then Rachel's once again looking at you, Crazy Eyes now slammed shut until they were barley slits. "You didn't enjoy it – did you?"

You're blinking at a rate of a million per second and wow okay so not where I thought this conversation was going.

"Um…" But then Rachel's whipping her head back and forth, her hair flying all over the place.

"NO! Don't answer that! I do not want to know if you enjoyed having – having sex with Noah Puckerman!"

(You're starting to wonder if you should try and calm Rachel down because it's slightly alarming how she went from zero to a million in about two seconds flat. But you're also slightly terrified of what she would do if you did try to calm her. You know Rachel is dramatic so you just let her have her moment.)

"Trust me, Rach, I'm not happy with it either. I mean, I even asked him if he was using protection and he said he was," you immediately regret saying that because you swear to god you see steam coming from Rachel's ears.

"HE LIED ABOUT USING PROTECTION?"And hers eyes are so wide and boring into yours so you just timidly nod your head. And then Rachel gives a scream and is all of a sudden racing for her bedroom door probably about to physically maim Puck. You jump up from the desk chair and barely manage to wrap your arms around her waist before she went storming out of the door.

"Rach! Calm down!" You feel her struggling in your grip.

"I will not calm down, Quinn Fabray! I am going to personally castrate Noah so he won't ever have to worry about wearing protection ever again!" Your eyes widen in fear for the poor boy. A part of you wants to let go of Rachel and just sit back and enjoy the front row seats to the Crazy Eye Show – because really, Puck lying about using protection was so not cool. But you roll your eyes and pick up Rachel like she weighed nothing – because she's close enough to it – and walk her over to her bed.

"Quinn! Quinn put me down this instant! Put me down!" So you do. You toss her on her bed and she lands with flailing limbs and messed up hair.

She looks so cute.

She tosses her hair out of her face and huffs up at you. "Quinn Fabray I cannot believe you just manhandled me! Of all of the absurd things –"

"– Rachel you need to be quiet now and take a deep breath," and she shuts her mouth and looks so offended, you can't help but chuckle. And even though you know that all Rachel is seeing is red, you can't help but see pink everywhere you look. You raise a brow until Rachel rolls her eyes and dramatically takes a deep breath.

"Thank you. Now. While yes what Puck did wasn't okay at all, and while yes it was … nice witnessing you slip very dramatically into the protective role, I think we can both safely say that you kind of… flew off the handle a little bit just then." Rachel goes to say something, but you cut her off with a raised hand. "And I was drunk so honestly the finer details are a bit … blurry. But what I can tell you is that it didn't mean anything, okay? I was angry and feeling fat and unwanted so," you roll your eyes at yourself, "so Puck was there and I fixed my problems. Now had I known a bigger problem would have been the outcome then no I wouldn't have had sex with him." You frown in disgust. "Actually. I wouldn't ever have sex with him even if I was stone cold sober," you shudder.

You look at Rachel to see her calmed down a little– yet still slightly too close to the Crazy Eyes side for your liking – so you keep talking.

"I appreciate your concern and willingness to defend me, Rach. I really do. And believe me, earlier today I would have been right there next to you with a pair of scissors in my hand. But… It's done. It's over. What happened, happened and I'm choosing to move on. I'm trying, remember?"

You're not even ashamed when you pull out the pout to drive in the final nail to Rachel's coffin. You see her roll her eyes and you do an internal victory dance.

"Fine. But I'm not going to admit that I probably did just go a little bit psycho. Even though I fully believe that Puck deserves to be punished for lying to you about protection."

You sit on the edge of the bed by Rachel's feet.

"I mean he is becoming a teen dad, so I think that might be punishment enough. Hell, he might live the rest of his life with a condom on just so this never happens again," and you both share a laugh and you know you'll be okay.

Rachel slowly sits up until she's sitting next to you and you both ignore the way your legs are flushed against each other's (except you know you both could never ignore that feeling even if you tried). Rachel bumps your shoulder with hers and whispers, "I am sorry. For how I acted. For your situation. For… all of this." And without even thinking, you lift your arm and wrap it around her shoulders until she is snuggled into your side. You feel her breathe against your collarbone and wow okay you wish there was a color specifically for this feeling.

(You'll have to think about that one later.)

"It's okay," and you mean it. Because even though this is a mess you never wanted to deal with, you're playing with a strand of Rachel's hair while she's curled up against you and, honestly, anything is okay if it ends like this.

Rachel sighs against you and you both are quiet again; simply enjoying being together. Because while the world is spinning and life is bustling outside of the window, in your world of messy colors that have been drawn outside of the lines, you have your own chaotic beauty.

But then you hear a car beep outside and feel Rachel stiffen against you.

"Hey, Quinn," she breathes out.

"Yeah?"

"Um… Remember how you said you wanted to shake my daddy's hand?"

"… Yes? … Why?"

"Well… You're about to have your chance."

And then you hear the front door open and two male voices float up to you. Dread is cement in your bones when you hear the door close again.

"Rachel! We're home! Tell Quinn to come down – we would love to talk to her!"

Your heart is thundering in your chest and you wonder if Rachel can hear it. And then she's out of your hold and looking at you like you might explode any second – which you actually think you might.

"Hey, Rach?" you breathe out.

"Yeah?"

"Save some room in Puck's coffin for me, would you?" And all she can do is smile sympathetically and squeeze your hand.