Author's Note: In honor of Faberry winning their round in the poll, here's the newest chapter just for you guys. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, check out my Tumblr to see the posts about it. You don't have to follow me (it'd be cool if you did!), but if you like Faberry you should definitely vote for them. Final Four starts tomorrow (August 7), I believe. You can vote every hour if you're interested. If you're not, ignore this whole paragraph.
As always, thanks for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. Even this far into the story, I'm still completely humbled by the fact that people enjoy it.
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Enjoy!
Quinn awoke because of a camera flash. At some point Rachel must have gotten up because Quinn was laying on her stomach on the floor in front of Rachel's bed where she'd last been holding the girl. There was a weight in the very center of her back. Something warm and- ow! Okay, something with sharp claws. Stupid freaking kitten.
"Rachel?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth, not wanting to move but feeling the kitten's claws digging into her back through her long t-shirt. "Is Babs on my back?"
"Yes," Rachel said, and she could hear the smile in her voice. Apparently whatever the cat was doing, kneading its tiny razor sharp claws into her back for some reason, must have made the brunette smile. Quinn hated to disturb her, but this was actually kind of painful.
"Can you move her please?" Quinn asked. "Before I fling her across the room?"
Rachel rushed over and plucked Babs from Quinn's back, pulling her t-shirt along with her until she moved the kitten to the crook of her arm and released its claws from the fabric. "Sorry," she mumbled, as Quinn brought the t-shirt back down to cover her back. "And don't you listen to her," Rachel said, now talking to the kitten in the overly adoring voice someone would have normally used around a baby. God, what had Quinn wrought in giving her this kitten? "Mommy would never do anything like that to you, my precious little snubbly-bump."
Quinn sat up from her prone position, wanting to gag at the name before something else registered. Before she could stop herself, she asked it aloud. "Mommy?"
"What?" Rachel asked. She'd been pretending to eat the kitten's ear, making "nom, nom, nom" sounds before Quinn had looked up. Realizing what Quinn had asked, what she had said, Rachel blushed. "What, no, I just meant- it was something Brittany said, and I guess- nothing. It's stupid. Forget it."
"Quid pro quo, Berry," Quinn said, smiling up at Rachel to try and get her to relax. She wasn't upset. Merely curious. "What did Brittany say?"
Rachel bit her lip, looking thoughtful, then said, "If we're still playing, then I think it's my turn. You asked last."
"Fair enough." Quinn bent forward and patted the floor in front of her before leaning back. Rachel seemed reluctant, looked back to her laptop where there was an open word document, then back down at Quinn. With a sigh, she sat down across from her, letting Babs down between them.
Quinn, looking around, spotted one of Babs's toys and snatched it off the carpet. It was the ball they had been playing with Christmas morning. Quinn sent it rolling towards Rachel, but before it got there, Babs jumped on it and attacked it, flipping onto her back and grasping it with her forepaws while kicking at it with her back legs. "Look who's no longer afraid of the ball!" Quinn said, giggling at the kitten.
"They grow up so fast," Rachel said, mockingly holding a hand to her heart and miming wiping away a tear. They both laughed at the kitten until Rachel reached out and took the ball from Babs. This time, she sent it rolling a little to the left, and the kitten rushed to jump on it. They were still laughing lightly at the kitten when Rachel asked, "Did you ever love Finn?"
Quinn's laughter suddenly dried up, and she looked over at the curious brunette who was staring down at the carpet. It was obvious she didn't want to meet Quinn's eyes, just in case she'd made her mad. Quinn couldn't be mad, though. Not really. She did say she'd answer anything. And this wasn't about her sexuality, not really, so she didn't have to lie to Rachel. Thank God. Lying to Rachel had hurt Quinn, but it wasn't like she could have told the girl that she was actually thinking about kissing her. There was just too much to lose.
Twisting her lips, Quinn really thought about it. Finn was a decent guy, and sweet when he remembered to be. But, "No," Quinn said. "I never really loved him. Not in the way I should have, at least. Not in the way you do. It was just what I was supposed to do, I think. I was the head cheerleader, he was the quarterback of the football team. It was… inevitable, I guess."
"And, that's not a knock on Finn," Quinn was quick to add. "I mean, there are plenty of things to make fun of him about, but…" She sighed. She hated talking about herself, her feelings. She was a Fabray. She wasn't supposed to get emotional so she kept them on lockdown. And yet, here she was, voluntarily opening up to Rachel Berry. The things she'd do for this girl… "Finn and I just weren't right together."
"Do you think we were?" Rachel asked, wanting Quinn's opinion for… whatever reason.
"That's a second question, Berry," Quinn said. "My turn. What did Brittany say about Babs and me?"
Rachel blushed at the memory. "Just that, like her and Santana are to Lord Tubbington, you and I are like Babs's mom and mommy. I just thought it was… sweet. I mean, if you think it's stupid or if you don't want to be I'd completely understand. You and I are just friends and nothing like Santana and Brittany, who, honestly, have the most confusing relationship I've ever seen, especially when you consider Artie in the whole equation. And I can assure you that I'd never make it public about you being Babs's mommy because I can understand how humiliating that could be to be even associated me in the first place, much less in a pseudo-lesbian feline motherhood relationship with a kitten as the primary dependent between us. The people at school can be-"
"Rachel!" Quinn yelled, stopping her mid-ramble. The surprised look on her face plus the fact that she'd given that much thought to the entire thing was more than Quinn could take, and she wound up laughing in Rachel's face. Rachel crossed her arms angrily over her torso and just looked away. After Quinn was done laughing at her, she finally said, "I was going to just let you go and see how long you could talk, but when you said 'pseudo-lesbian feline motherhood', I had to stop you. Just out of curiosity, though, how long would you have talked just then before you gave out?"
Rachel glared at her while pouting, something only Rachel Berry seemed able to do, but only said, "You're evil, Quinn Fabray."
"I know," Quinn said to the frowning girl. "But you're just too easy." When Rachel still wouldn't look at her, Quinn got up on her knees and knee-walked across the carpet to where Rachel was sitting. She sat down beside the brunette and said, "Come on, you're not really mad." Nothing. "Don't pout." Still nothing. Reaching over, Quinn wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled Rachel in closer to her side. "I'm sorry, mom," she said, emphasizing he word. "But come on. You said 'pseudo-lesbian feline motherhood'. That's at least a little funny. Right?"
Rachel huffed and said, "I suppose", and Quinn knew she had her. She squeezed her a little tighter, letting her head rest on the brunette's shoulder. It was so comfortable right there beside her. Fucking sigh…
Releasing Rachel, she knee-walked back to where she'd been siting, scooping up Babs along the way. "But I agree with you. It'd probably be best to keep our shared 'child'," she laughed again at the idea of it, "a secret from the general school population. I don't think they're particularly fond of 'pseudo-lesbian' relationships."
"No one seems to have a problem with Brittany and Santana," Rachel said.
"That's because A) Santana scares people," Quinn said, "and B) no one would dare say anything to hurt Brittany because she's the nicest person ever. And if they ever did, Santana would hear about it, and then we're back to A." She looked over at Rachel who seemed to be thinking about that. "Have you ever noticed that everyone in Glee Club has been slusheed except for Brittany?" Rachel shook her head. "Even Santana's been slusheed. But no one at school messes with Brittany. Not since freshman year."
"What happened?"
"Jeffrey Mahler. Hockey player. He was a junior when we were freshmen," Quinn said. "He graduated last year. Apparently he was trying to hook up with Brittany behind his girlfriend's back, but Britts said no because she was friends with her on the Cheerios. Jeff called her stupid. Retarded. Sent her crying. Next thing we knew, he came to school with his arm in a cast. Broken in three places. He never would say what happened, but he apologized to Britt after he came back."
"And that was Santana?"
"She never said it was her," Quinn said. "But you should have seen her that day. When Brittany came into the locker room crying, it was all I could do to keep her from going after him then and getting expelled. Santana, you might think she doesn't care about people, but you should have seen her. I've never seen someone so… enraged. But damned if she didn't bottle it up to take care of Brittany"
They both sat with that a minute before Quinn finally said, "Your turn again."
"Oh!" Rachel looked over at Quinn like she'd forgotten they were still playing. "I just kind of thought that since you got the answer you wanted about what Brittany said that you wouldn't want to play anymore."
"We don't have to," Quinn said. "We can do something else. I just…" She bit her lip, suddenly feeling shy, which was stupid. She was Quinn fucking Fabray. She didn't get shy. Still, she couldn't help the quiet way she added, "I like talking to you, I guess."
Rachel was quiet for a moment, digesting this, before she asked, "I asked about Finn already. What about Noah? Did you ever care about him?"
"God, Berry, you sure are curious about my love life," Quinn said, following with a laugh that sounded far too fake. She tried to make it a joke, but it was clear to both of them that there was no humor there. To Quinn, she was just concerned where the line of questioning was going. Was she trying to figure out if she liked the guys she dated? If she loved them? If she was sexually attracted to them? Because the answers to those, if Quinn really, really wanted to admit the truth to herself were, in order: mostly, no, and no. "I was hoping for something like favorite color, or favorite movie. Something less drama-filled." Again, she tried for a laugh, and, again, it sounded fake in her own ears.
"Sorry," Rachel said, suddenly sheepish. "What's your favorite color?"
"Green," Quinn answered, but quickly added, "but that's not what you wanted to know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… whatever I just did. I just generally hate talking about me, and your questions aren't the superficial crap that most people would ask. You're too freaking genuine to ask questions I'd be comfortable answering, I guess. Not everyone's an open book like you are, Berry."
"I'm not," Rachel said quickly. "You- and Dr. Richards- are the only ones I've told this stuff to."
"But that's not your natural… state?" Quinn said, then paused, because it sounded weird even to her. "Your natural condition. Usually you're 'put everything out there', 'sing about my feelings' girl. It's only been in the last- what? Month or two?- that you've been all secretive and shy, right?"
"I guess," Rachel said resentfully, folding her arms again and looking away again.
"No, stop that, Berry," Quinn said. "Look at me. I'm not saying that to irritate you or anything. I'm going to answer your question because that's the rules of the game. And I'm not even saying to change your questions because that's not who you are, and they're good questions. I'm just letting you know now why I'm going to be all pissed off that I'm answering them. Okay?"
"Okay," Rachel finally said after a long silent moment. God, this girl and drama. She seemed to bring it out of Quinn.
"Okay," Quinn said. "To answer your question… No, I guess I never really loved Puck either, though I do care about him. You can't help but go through what we did together and not care about someone. He tried, in his own stupid way. He gave me a place to live for a while and went to all the doctor's appointments after the truth came out. He even stopped dating other girls. Well, except for that fling he had with Mercedes. I think we'll probably always have this connection, but there's no relationship there. There never has been."
"Even the second half of sophomore year?" Rachel asked. "I thought you two were dating?"
"Is that a question?" Quinn joked, this time genuinely smiling.
Rachel didn't even pause. "No, it's a request for clarification of your answer." Damn this girl was good.
"Fine," Quinn said. "No, we weren't dating. Puck was as loyal as he could be, which, you know him. It wasn't much. But there were no romantic feelings of any kind. I even felt kind of bad for him. That's one of the reasons I pushed him into dating Mercedes. Plus, I kind of thought they'd be good for each other. It's a shame they didn't work out."
"I guess," Rachel said. "I think Mercedes needs someone that's going to worship her, and throw attention at her, and I don't think Puck is quiet up to that challenge."
"No," Quinn said, laughing. "He's too easily distracted." As an afterthought, she added, "It's a shame Sam isn't dating her instead."
"What?"
"Nothing," Quinn quickly covered her slip of the tongue. Before Rachel could ask anything else about what she'd said, Quinn quickly changed the subject, saying, "My turn." She looked down in thought before a question occurred to her that she'd wanted to ask since Christmas night. "I know. Why'd you lie about telling your dads about Shelby?"
"What?" Rachel exclaimed. "I never lied."
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Quinn said, "but I believe you said, after finding out Shelby was your mom, that you were so messed up over it that your dads moved your therapist into the spare bedroom. But Christmas night, they asked me how you knew about Shelby."
Rachel looked down, embarrassed over being caught in her lie. "They asked you about Shelby?"
"They did," Quinn said. "They said that reading through the letters, they didn't understand why you'd be upset over something you shouldn't even know about."
"Oh." Rachel was silent for a minute before she finally spoke up. "I..." she started, before stopping again, scrunching her eyebrows in thought. "I guess because I have a tendency to… embellish… stories to make them sound more dramatic?"
"So you didn't win your first dance competition when you were three months old?" Quinn asked, mirth clear in her eyes.
"No," Rachel said, embarrassed, but at least she was laughing at herself. "I think I'm just too dramatic for my own good at times. Them moving a therapist in to deal with my crazy full-time sounded better than 'I didn't tell them because I didn't want to hurt their feelings, and now you guys know something not even my parents, who I tell everything to by the way, know'. I guess maybe I thought that if the Glee Club thought my dads knew then they would never accidentally tell them? I don't know. It sounds stupid now."
"No, I get it," Quinn said. "You're looking at the girl who lied about her baby to her parents by saying she just had a big lunch." Both girls chuckled sadly at that, at themselves, because, fuck it, what else could they do? Sometimes it was either laugh about it or cry about it.
"Your turn, Berry," Quinn said.
She watched as Rachel stuck her tongue out at the kitten, smacking the ball away from her to watch as Babs gamboled after it. Her eyes, though happy for a moment, turned unfocused and thoughtful. Eventually she said, "Why did you sleep with Puck?"
Quinn thought back to that night and immediately knew that she'd have to lie to Rachel. Again. Fuck, this honesty thing was difficult. How do I tell her that it's all her fault? Quinn asked herself. That if I hadn't seen my boyfriend singing with the girl I had a crush on in the auditorium that day, singing 'Don't Stop Believing' like a fucking angel- sorry, Jesus- that I never would have gotten drunk with Puckerman. Wouldn't have had to prove to myself that I wasn't gay. That I wasn't interested in her. And, God, how well did that work out? 'Trust me', he said. Stupid fucking Puck. Stupid fucking gayness. Stupid fucking wine coolers. Quinn stopped that train of thought. No. Stupid fucking me.
What Quinn actually said- yet another lie when promising to be honest to Rachel- was quite a bit different than her thoughts. As everything in her life seemed to be, it was half-truth, half lie. "We had a weigh-in for the Cheerios that day," Quinn said. Truth. "I didn't weigh in at a proper weight for a flyer and got chewed out by Coach Sue." Lie. "I was feeling terrible…" Truth. "…y'know, about being fat." Lie. "I let Puckerman get me drunk on wine coolers." Truth… kind of. She'd let him, but she'd also suggested it. "He told me to trust him, and I did." Truth… again, kind of. He'd said to trust her about the condom. Quinn was trusting him to take all her doubts about herself away. "And you know how that turned out." She wasn't sure if that last statement was for herself or for Rachel.
"Oh," Rachel said. She seemed almost disappointed.
"What's wrong, Berry?" Quinn asked. "Hoping for something more 'fairy tale' for a first time story?"
"No," Rachel said. "Maybe. I don't know. I just… I guess I just wish it had been better for you? Happier? Sorry, that's stupid."
"No," Quinn said, giving her a soft smile. "No, I get it. I wish it was, too. Things just don't work out like fairy tales most of the time, no matter how nice that would be. My family is proof of that." Quinn gave a harsh chuckle that Rachel was hesitant to join in on. "Honestly? I barely even remember it. I mean, I remember getting drunk and making out with Puck, which was kind of nice, I guess. I remember him touching me places I would never let Finn. I remember I never said 'no' like I did with other boys. But to the act itself? All I remember is it hurting a lot and crying into my pillow because it wasn't-" Quinn stopped herself from saying 'you' and instead said, "-it wasn't what I wanted. I thought he'd take away all the doubts, but instead it just made everything worse."
Quinn was back there, in that night, in those fuzzy, drunken memories. Puck's hands on her body, his breath on the back of her neck, her face in the pillows, wishing it was Rachel there with her. Hating Rachel for making her think that. Hating Finn for being there singing, practicing, with Rachel and the rest of those losers. Hating Puck for not being Finn, for not being Rachel, for being a Lima loser. There was just so much hate, and yet something miraculous had come from it. The baby. Beth. Quinn would gladly have gone through all the hate, all the slushees, the pregnancy, everything, if it meant being able to hold Beth again.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said, bringing Quinn back to the present. "I wouldn't have asked if it brought up bad memories. I wasn't thinking. I was just curious."
"Don't be sorry, Berry," Quinn said. "A lot of terrible things came out of that night, but also the best thing I've ever done. I wouldn't trade anything in the world for being able to carry my daughter and give her to someone that I think will take care of her. So don't be sorry. I'm not."
A look came over Rachel's face, but, 'Rachel-whisperer' that she was, Quinn couldn't make it out, couldn't tell what emotion was there. Maybe it was too many to be defined. "Why did you give her to Shelby?"
"Nope, sorry," Quinn said. "My turn." Rachel looked put out at having to play the game rather than being able to just ask the questions she wanted, but Quinn wasn't an open book, damn it. If she was going to have to bare her soul- God, that was dramatic. Maybe I'm spending too much time around Rachel- to this girl, she was going to get something in return. Quinn looked around the room, looking for a question, when her eyes landed on Rachel's laptop. "What are you writing?" she asked, motioning to the darkened screen where the open word document had been. Of course vegan Rachel Berry would be using some power-save mode in some effort to save the planet.
"What?" Rachel asked, following Quinn's line of sight to the laptop. "Oh, that. It's nothing. Really. I was just writing some notes."
"Nothing?" Quinn asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the last 'notes' you wrote were goodbye letters, so call me skeptical, but I'm thinking they're not nothing. Spill, Berry."
"They're not goodbye letters, if that's what you're worried about," Rachel said. "I mean, not really. I guess they kind of are, but not the way you're thinking." Quinn arched an eyebrow but kept the rest of her face stoic, waiting for the explanation.
Rachel sighed and said, "They're letters of resignation from the various clubs I'm in. With my therapy sessions twice a week and physical therapy after the brace comes off… if there's anything worth getting physical therapy for," she added with an angry mumble, "I thought it would be wise to drop out of all the clubs I'm in so that I have more time for more important things. I only joined them to get some practical experience at having my picture taken."
"Okay," Quinn said, relieved. "Well that's not so bad. I don't know why you tried to hide that. What, did you think I'd be mad or disappointed in you or something? You're kind of an overachiever, Berry. I was surprised you had time for all of them anyway." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "This will give you more time to focus on Glee and getting better."
Rachel's face dropped at that, and Quinn's first thought was that she'd said something wrong. They'd already talked about Rachel getting better, though, so she couldn't possibly get mad at that. Wasn't that what she'd basically said? That she wanted to get out of those other clubs to focus on getting better? Quinn replayed what Rachel had just said in her head. '…drop out of all the clubs…'
"Oh," Quinn said, realization sinking in. "All the clubs. Glee included." Rachel didn't respond verbally, only giving a half-hearted nod. "This is about you having time to get better?" Another nod. "And it has nothing to do with hearing people sing, possibly to you, and you hating them? Nothing to do with you not wanting people to stare at you?" Rachel shook her head, staring down at the floor. "Because you know they're going to do that anyway, right? Stare. Like they did when I was eight months pregnant and waddling around the school. That's what they do. They stare and make fun of what's different. What they don't understand."
"I know," Rachel said quietly. "They… you've been doing it to me for years."
"They have," Quinn said, hurting at the dig Rachel slipped in. She let her have it, though, knowing the brunette was just angry. "I have. But are you going to be a Kurt Hummel and let them beat you? Let them make you leave? Or are you going to be stronger than that and not let them destroy who you are? I didn't. You don't have to either. You have it in you, Rachel. You've showed it to me plenty of times. That ability to stand up and say 'I know I'm better than you'. To say 'I'm going to make it out of this town'. To say 'I'm going to be a star'."
"I don't think I know how to anymore," Rachel said, reaching up to wipe a trailing tear. "I'm just… I'm tired. Tired of trying and failing. I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't think I can be that person anymore. Everything they've said to me… it takes a toll. I just don't want to have to deal with it anymore."
"And you don't have to," Quinn said, scooting across the floor right in front of Rachel. She wiped a falling tear away and tucked a strand of hair back behind the brunette's ear. "Not alone, anyway. You have me now. And Brittany. And, God help you, Santana." Rachel chuckled at that, but still didn't look up at Quinn. "You're not alone anymore. Not at school. And if we have to kick some ass to help people get the message, so be it. I'm sure Santana will enjoy doing it."
"I can't ask you to do that," Rachel said. "What if it brings down your reputation, too? Finn always said how damaging I was to his status at school. I don't want to do the same to you."
"Rachel," Quinn said, cupping her chin, lifting her face to gain her eyes. "First of all, I'm going to beat Finn silly for even suggesting that. He's an ass." Rachel started to say something, but a finger over the brunette's lips silenced her. "Second, if Brittany and Santana's unofficial relationship can't touch them, if a baby and homelessness can't bring me down permanently, I don't see how being friends with you could possibly hurt us. We're the three meanest, most popular girls in the school. If anyone says anything about you from now on, Glee club included, we will destroy them. Okay? No worries."
And yet again, Quinn found herself within kissing distance of Rachel. God, how did she keep getting herself into these situations? She dropped her hands from Rachel's face and reached forward, giving the smaller girl a tight hug before letting her go. Had she mentioned fucking sigh? Because, yeah.
"Thank you," Rachel said, pulling away from Quinn to look into her eyes. "But I'm still leaving Glee Club. I don't feel like singing anymore. It's just not there inside me. And listening to everyone else do what I can't or won't… it hurts too much."
"I get it," Quinn said. Rachel looked skeptical, but Quinn just shook her head. "No, really, I do. I felt the same way after I was kicked off the Cheerios. Santana and Brittany kept inviting me to watch their practices, but I just couldn't. I wanted to be out there so bad. It killed me. I hated it. I hated them a little for being able to do something I couldn't. Something that I loved. So, yeah. I get it."
They sat, just partially holding each other for a minute or two in their own thoughts before Quinn pulled away to go sit back in her spot by the foot of the bed. On her way, she again picked up Babs's ball and rolled it towards Rachel, watching the kitten go bounding off for it. It was kind of adorable, tiny claws and all.
"Your turn, Rachel," Quinn said, pulling the brunette out of her thoughts.
"Oh." Rachel shook her head. "Umm… I'm going to stick with my last question. Why'd you give the baby to Shelby?"
Quinn closed her eyes and sighed. "God, you really are just asking the toughest possible questions, aren't you?" Rachel started to apologize, but Quinn stopped her. "Don't. I'm just saying, one night we're going to have to play where it's just pointless questions. All this drama can't be good for the soul. Or at least mine. I'm sure you're used to it."
"Are you calling me dramatic?" Rachel asked, though Quinn couldn't tell whether the offense was real or if she was just playing. She hoped the girl was just playing, but she'd never really played with Rachel before, and… okay, that definitely sounded dirty in her head.
"No," Quinn said. "I would say you're way past dramatic." Rachel scoffed indignantly. "Is there anything past overly dramatic? Ridiculously dramatic? No, that doesn't sound right. Exceedingly dramatic? Emphatically dramatic? Exceptionally dramatic?"
"I'll agree with that one," Rachel said, "but only since you're saying I'm exceptional."
"Which you definitely are, Berry," Quinn said, winking and smirking. Rachel blushed slightly, and, God, was she actually flirting with Rachel Berry? Because it kind of felt… awesome. And damn you, nerdy little Lucy Fabray for describing flirting with Rachel freaking Berry as 'awesome'. Still, Quinn couldn't remove the happy little smile from her face.
"Be that as it may," Rachel said, clearing her throat, "you still haven't answered the question, Miss Fabray. Quid pro quo, remember?"
"Right, right," Quinn said. The question. Why had she given the baby to Shelby? What was it Puck was saying just the other day on the phone? "Well, to be honest, everything is kind of hazy over that period of time. I was kind of an emotional wreck: giving birth, finding out my parents were separated, mom asking me to move back in. Puck reminded me recently, though, that I said something to the effect of…" Quinn paused, taking and deep breath and just knowing, even in her head, how this was going to sound. "Apparently I told him that if Shelby has her shit together as much as Rachel Berry does, then she'd be the perfect person to give up the baby to."
Rachel's eyes fell to the floor, her head tilted sideways, and her face did that thing where her lips and eyebrows both kind of screwed up. Like she couldn't decide how to take that, as either insult or compliment. After a minute, she finally looked up at Quinn and said, "I think that might be the nicest compliment you've ever given me."
Quinn shrugged, but Rachel wasn't going to let the comment be brushed off. "No, please don't do that. Don't act like it's not important. You basically said that you would trust me with Beth. Well, a more grown up version of me, I suppose. That's important. Or, I mean, it is to me, at least."
Quinn was silent for a couple of moments before she said, "It's important to me, too."
They were again silent, both lost in contemplation before Rachel looked over at Quinn. Once she had the girl's gaze on her, she smiled and said, "Now, can we do something that's not so emotional?"
"Yes, please, God!"
And for the next few hours they continued to color pictures and kept the conversation to a lighter, no-drama-allowed level. There were things they still needed to talk about. Secrets they were keeping from each other, or, at least, things Quinn still kept from Rachel, but those could wait. She'd been opening up to the girl… truthfully, they'd been opening up to each other… but she felt like she was being kind of a crappy friend. So for the rest of the night Quinn promised herself to do whatever she could to make Rachel laugh or smile. They told each other random stories, stupid jokes, bad puns. They played with Babs until the kitten was worn down and passed out on Rachel's pillow.
Rachel, putting the kitten onto the bed, picked up a pillow and smacked Quinn in the back of the head with it, leading to a pillow fight so loud that Leroy had to come upstairs and make sure the girls were okay. By that point, though, the pillow fight had devolved into a wrestling match that saw Quinn pinning Rachel to the floor and tickling her sides, the brunette laughing so much she was turning purple.
"Quinn," Leroy said with a grin from the door, startling the girls. "Mind letting my daughter up so she doesn't pass out from lack of oxygen?"
"Sorry," Quinn said, blushing, out of breath, and sweaty, hot from the exertion and from being so close to Rachel. She stopped tickling the laughing girl under her, moving her hands away from Rachel's ribs and sliding to get off of her.
With the momentum, Rachel pushed Quinn down onto her back and started one-handed tickling her, straddling her stomach. The blonde could have forced her way out from under the brunette but didn't, instead choosing to lay there laughing as Rachel assaulted her sides with her fingers.
"And Rachel turns the tide of war!" Rachel shouted, commentating on their wrestling match in the third person. "Will Quinn 'the… umm… oh! Will Quinn 'the cheer-loser' Fabray give in to the all-powerful tickling might of Rachel 'the… uh… Rachel 'the Blue' Berry?"
"The… the blue?" Quinn managed to say between squeals of laughter. "You fight… dirty… Blueberry!"
"It's not fighting dirty," Rachel yelled, laughing nearly as much as Quinn was. "It's fighting… fighting strategically!"
"Strategic this!" Quinn yelled, reaching up and pinning Rachel's arms to her side and rolling until she was on top of Rachel. The brunette's legs immediately wrapped around Quinn's stomach, locking behind her, and she heard Rachel give a gasp as Quinn moved against her. She only hoped that gasp didn't have too much to do with the thinness of Rachel's sweatpants and certain places rubbing up against Quinn's midsection. Her father was still in the room, and… and they were just friends, right?
Quinn lifted, picking the girl up off the carpeted floor and rocked side to side, regaining her balance. "Quinn!" Rachel nearly screamed in her ear. "You… you put me down this instant!"
"That's the plan," Quinn said, trying not to focus on the way Rachel's clearly braless breasts were pressed against Quinn's chest or how her legs were still locked tightly around her midsection. She walked them over to the bed, making a show of stumbling as Leroy laughed on, then raised up and, yelling a loud "Boom!", slammed Rachel down onto the bed. Grabbing her shoulders and pinning the smaller, struggling girl down, Quinn looked over at Leroy and yelled, "Could you give us a count, ref?"
Leroy, getting into the roll, rushed over and dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, slamming his hand down, "One! Two! Three!" At three, Quinn let go of Rachel who popped up and pushed Quinn back a couple of steps.
"Someone's a sore loser," Quinn said, unsure whether the scowl on Rachel's face was real or fake.
"Everyone's ganging up against me," Rachel pouted.
"Don't worry about it Quinn," Leroy said, getting back to his feet. "She gets it from Hiram. I know what'll make her feel better though."
"Not talking about me like I'm not here?" Rachel suggested, turning to look away from them.
"Nope," Leroy said, smirking. "Spicy peanut pad Thai."
"With extra spring rolls?" Rachel asked, turning back to look at Leroy who just nodded like 'of course extra spring rolls'. "Yay!" Rachel said, jumping in the air and clapping her hands. Turning to Quinn, she said, "You have to stay for dinner! The Thai place we're ordering from has the best spring rolls. Have you ever had them? Because, really, if you haven't, they're amazing!" Turning back to Leroy, she asked, "Quinn can stay for dinner can't she? Pleeeeeeease?" And she did this lip-pouting, eyelash-batting move so over the top that only Rachel Berry would do it.
"Of course," Leroy said. To Quinn, he added, "If you'd like. Do you need to call your mother, or…?"
Quinn's expression grew somber as she responded, "Yeah, I'll just do that now, if you don't mind." It wasn't her mother's response she was thinking of so much as Sam's, though. Sure, her mother might be a little upset since Quinn was hanging out with Rachel yet again, but she just needed to get to know Rachel, and that was happening Thursday, so she wasn't worried about that. It was Sam that she was worried about.
"Quinn?" Rachel asked, concerned and the new tension hanging in the air.
"No, it's fine. I just need to make a phone call."
"Okay, but you need to decide what you want from the Thai place," Leroy said.
"I've never had Thai food before, so I don't care," Quinn said. "Nothing too spicy, but other than that, I'm good. No allergies or anything."
"I know just the perfect thing," Rachel said, starting to follow Leroy out the door to go and look over the menu.
"No vegan food!" Quinn shouted as they were walking away, causing Rachel to huff and turn, marching back into the room.
"And what's wrong with vegan food?"
"Nothing's wrong with it," Quinn said, smirking, "as long as you're a rabbit or some other prey animal. But I'm a person. We didn't work our way to the top of the food chain just to eat salads. That's not food. That's what food eats."
"Quinn!" Rachel squealed, smacking Quinn's bicep harder than necessary. "That's the most… close-minded… arrogant… self-absorbed… I can't even believe… ugh! Why are we friends again?"
Quinn's entire smirking expression softened at that because, for the first time since everything started, she actually did feel like she was being Rachel's friend. And not just new, broken-Rachel but old-Rachel as well. She was actually friends with annoying, awkward, bossy, beautiful, funny, sweet, amazing diva Rachel Berry. It was kind of the best feeling ever. "No idea," Quinn said sweetly. She could see it in Rachel's expression too that she knew whatever the moment was had changed from argumentative banter to something… more… with that declaration of friendship.
Quickly Rachel threw her arms around Quinn and pulled her in close, squeezing her and letting her go almost before the hug registered. "I'll go pick something good out for you," Rachel said, almost shyly, and turned to leave the room. God, that girl…
Quinn stood there for a minute, just looking at the doorway Rachel had just walked through before remembering that they had left her there for a reason. Going to Quinn's purse still laying on top of Rachel's desk, she sifted through it and plucked her phone from its depths.
Twenty-three text messages and four missed calls. Most from Sam, a couple from her mom. Jesus, Sam, she though. It's not like I went missing. Though, okay, she did kind of miss their date.
Dialing her mom first, Quinn explained about Rachel needing her, about the brunette's hand and why she was freaking out, and okay, that was kind of a lie, but it was easier to explain it that way than to have to go into the whole 'Quinn had to make her face the truth' explanation that had actually happened. She then told Judy that they'd asked her to stay for dinner and asked if that was okay. Judy, reluctant that she was, said yes, and Quinn thanked her. She really did need to get Rachel and Judy to talk, though, so at least then her mom wouldn't be so concerned about everything. Thursday couldn't come fast enough.
After that, Quinn scrolled down to Sam's contact and stared at the picture again. The one from Sectionals. The one she had cut Rachel out of. Pressing connect, she listened as it rang once, twice, thr- "Hello? Quinn? Where have you been? Are you okay?"
"Sam, calm down," Quinn said, tinging her voice with sleepiness. Lies and manipulation. The Fabray way. "I'm fine, and I'm sorry. I'm over here at Rachel's and fell asleep."
"Rachel's house?" Sam asked, clearly annoyed while whining at the same time because, yeah, that was attractive. "Again?"
"Sorry," Quinn said. She gave him a condensed version of the story she'd given her mother about Rachel's hand, about Quinn trying to cheer her up, about falling asleep holding a sobbing Rachel. She begrudgingly made Rachel sound more pathetic and dramatic than she'd actually been. Quinn also lied about the time she fell asleep and woke up, knowing Sam wouldn't be happy with her purposely avoiding their date.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay. Let me make it up to you," Quinn bargained, voice changing from sleepy to flirty. "Dinner tomorrow night, just me and you. And after dinner, maybe we could go park somewhere and… look at the stars…" She let Sam's imagination fill in the rest of that statement.
Over the phone, Quinn heard him gulp and say, "That sounds… um… really good. But, just… no more canceling, okay? I really miss seeing you, Quinn. I want this relationship to work out, but I feel like you've been so distracted lately with Rachel that… it's like I'm not important to you."
"Of course you're important to me," Quinn said. "You're my boyfriend. But Rachel is… she needs me too, okay? I'm not putting her first, but I know you're okay without me." And then the words were pouring out before she could stop them. "With her… I feel like… God, I just feel like I'm the Rachel-whisperer or something. That I'm the only one that can keep her from- from trying what she did… again. And I hate that and it's exhausting, constantly worrying about her. I'm having nightmares about it. What if I don't get there in time next time? What if I do but I can't do anything about it? What if next time it's not even something I can prevent, like… God, I don't even know. Like if she shot herself? If she hung herself? I hate it. I hate it so much but… but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I feel like I'm doing something that has a purpose for once. It's just like the story of the good Samaritan."
"And Rachel's what? Your Jewish traveler?" Sam asked. "Because, if I'm remembering that story correctly, at some point the Samaritan left and said, 'hey, here's some money to take care of this guy'. He didn't stay around and nurse him back to health himself. She has parents, and you said she's going to therapy, right? She's not your responsibility, even if you do feel responsible. You can't take care of her forever."
"It's been nine days," Quinn said. "Not 'forever'. And it's not like Rachel's some stranger. She's my friend and our teammate. I thought you'd be a little more understanding."
She heard Sam sigh through the phone. "I'm trying, Quinn. Really. It's just, you're being so distant ever since you got mad at me for wanting to know more about you, and I know you said you would try to be more open, but… it's like… I feel like you're just using Rachel as an excuse so you don't have to be around me. And if that's the case, that's not cool to do to Rachel or to me."
If someone had been watching, they would have seen her entire demeanor change. This wasn't sweet, apologetic girlfriend Quinn. This was the Ice Quinn, HBIC Quinn Fabray. "I'm not using Rachel," she said, voice icy. "Not as an excuse. Not as anything else. She's genuinely my friend, like Santana and Brittany. Get used to that. Right now. Second, we got back together two days ago. We had lunch yesterday, and we're going out tomorrow. If that's not enough time with you, if you need to be clingier than that, then that's your problem that you need to deal with. I'm not always going to be there for you. I will make time for Rachel. I'm not going to try to divide my time equally between you two. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Sam said quickly, immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm not being clingy, I promise. I just miss you."
Quinn felt bad for having to put him in his place like that, but what else was there to do? Her inner Santana said 'You could always dump his ass and get you some Berry juice', but Quinn countered with, And how is that relationship with Brittany going, bitch? Out and proud? That shut that voice up pretty damned quickly.
Realistically, there was nothing she could do. Quinn just wanted it all. Head Cheerio, Prom Queen, Valedictorian. She already had one of those. The grades she made put her in competition with Mike Chang over another one. All that was left was Prom Queen, and she needed a King to go along with that. Sam was hot, likable, and charming in his own idiotic way. He'd make a perfect King to her Queen. The only better option would be Finn Hudson, but there was no way she could do that to Rachel. Not after everything.
She sighed. "I know," Quinn finally said back to him. "I miss you, too. Tomorrow night, though, okay sweetie? We'll catch up then, and you can ask me whatever you want. I promise."
"Okay," Sam said, and she could once again hear the overly large smile in his voice. "I'm looking forward to it."
After some lovey-dovey goodbyes that she only half participated in, as well as again not saying that she loved him, Quinn turned away from the window towards the doorway, locking eyes with Rachel. They eyed each other for a moment, before Rachel looked away, saying, "So… dinner should be here in maybe…" she looked at the clock. "Twenty minutes?"
"Okay," Quinn said, unable to keep the frostiness out of her voice because that fucking look in her eyes before she turned away told her everything. "How much of that conversation did you listen in on?"
"What? I didn't- I mean, I may have- but I never meant to-"
"How. Much?"
"I'm sorry, Quinn," Rachel said, stepping closer, afraid of the HBIC that stood before her. "I really am. I just… I came up to tell you about the food, and I heard you talking about me, and I know it was wrong, but… but…" Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes, and Quinn wanted nothing more than to wipe them away but she was too irritated with the brunette to do it.
Out of nowhere, the breakdown seemed to hit. "Please don't be mad. I just… I need you, Quinn, and I know you hate it. I'm sorry. I know it's … it's not fair to you, and I'm… I'm trying to be better, but…" The tears that threatened to fall finally started. "It's hard. I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear that. Don't want to be here. To be the… the 'Rachel-whisperer'. I know you're scared, but I'm scared, too. I don't want to… to kill myself, but it's… everything's just so hard, and so… so sharp, and when you're here it's better, really, but it's still… still there. Please don't… don't be mad. I'm sorry. Please don't… don't leave me alone. I need… I need you to not be mad. I can't… I'm sorry, but I just… I…"
Rachel sank down to the floor and Quinn's heart broke for her as she rushed over to wrap her up in her arms. The brunette started sobbing in her arms, still trying to talk, to apologize, but Quinn shushed her and hugged her tighter as she shook and cried. She held her as she cried because that's all Quinn knew to do. She couldn't make her better. Therapy, drugs… those things might, but Quinn was powerless. She knew that. It didn't matter, though. No matter how much she hated it, no matter how tired she might be, no matter how bad the nightmares got, Quinn couldn't leave. She was stuck with this girl.
After a time, Leroy came up to see what they were up to. Quinn calmly and quietly told him to go get one of Rachel's antianxiety pills and a glass of water. He immediately left the room to do so. She guessed Rachel's fathers listening to her and following commands was one of the few perks of her role as Rachel's… what? Lifeline? God, that sounded just fucking ridiculous. Having Quinn Fabray as the person in charge of someone's life? Wasn't that the same reason she gave up the baby? Because she was too fucking young to deal with this kind of responsibility? It wasn't fair. That may have been a childish thing to think, but it was the truth. It wasn't fair. Not to Rachel, not to Leroy and Hiram, certainly not to her.
Leroy came back with the pill bottle and a plastic cup of water. Quinn pulled back from Rachel who clung to her like a koala bear. "Rachel, sweetie," Quinn said, moving her arms around to wipe the tear tracks from her eyes. "It's pill time, sweetie."
"I mess up everything," Rachel said as she buried her head back in Quinn's shoulder. Her voice was stuffy from crying, and her words were muffled. "We were having fun, and I ruined it. I ruin everything."
"No, sweetie, really," Quinn said, again pulling back and keeping Rachel at arm's length this time so the brunette could see her face. "You didn't ruin anything. I did. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you. You didn't mean any harm. You just… you know how I get with personal stuff. Sam said some things that upset me, and I took it out on you. I'm the one that should be apologizing, Rachel, not you. I'm sorry."
"So you're not mad then?" Rachel asked.
"Would I be here if I were mad?"
"Probably," Rachel said, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands. "If you felt guilty enough."
Quinn pried the hands away and cupped her cheeks, wiping at her eyes with the pads of her thumbs. "Sweetie, listen," Quinn said. "I do feel guilty, every day, for how I treated you. But that's not why I'm here. If you were one hundred percent well right now, I'd still be here."
"No, you'd be out with Sam," Rachel said. "I heard you apologizing for blowing off your date tonight. If you hadn't had to take care of me, you could be out there with him."
"Sam's… Sam," Quinn said. "He's my boyfriend, and I do want to spend time with him, but if you had any kind of problem that you needed me for, even if it wasn't something as important as it was today, I'd drop him and help you. He's just a boy. He'll get over it. You, though, Miss Rachel Berry? You're now on a very short list of people that have priority. Learn to love it."
Rachel ducked her head and hugged Quinn again. Behind her back, Quinn motioned Leroy over with the pill and the cup of water. Gently pushing Rachel away, Quinn took the pill and cup and handed them to Rachel who took them without a word. She swallowed the pill, finished the water while they were still wrapped up together, then handed the empty cup back to Quinn who handed it back to Leroy. Leroy, seeing that everything was as okay as it could be, headed back downstairs.
After a quiet minute, Rachel said, "Sam's not just a boy. He's your boyfriend. He deserves time with you, too."
"I know," Quinn said, sighing. "I just… it's been so nice ignoring him this past week that I kind of hate to start dating him again. Is that weird?"
"I don't' know about weird, but it's not very nice," Rachel said, wrapping her arms around Quinn again and pulling herself into the blonde's embrace. She rested her head on Quinn's shoulder and blew out a long breath. "I kind of get it, though, I guess. Finn wasn't always the most fun to be around. All he ever wanted to do was make out or play video games. Whenever I got him to do something I wanted to do, he always made it seem like a chore."
"Oh, I remember," Quinn said. "I used to sit there bored most of the time and watch him play video games with the guys. That's actually how I got to know Puck, and you see where that led."
"I do," Rachel said, chuckling wetly. "Finn never had guys around when I watched him play video games. I guess I know why now." Rachel laughed a little harder at that, and Quinn joined in, squeezing her one more time before pulling back.
"You ready to go see if the food's here?" Quinn asked, untangling herself from Rachel. She stood, then offered her hand to Rachel and helped her up from the floor.
Rachel brushed the back of her sweatpants off with her good hand and Quinn couldn't keep her eyes off the brunette's amazing butt as she did. God, it was like there was a thirteen year old boy living in her head. Even after what had just happened with the anger and the apologies and the crying, all Quinn could think about was how nice of an ass that was, and what she'd like to do to it. 'And how's that trying-not-to-be-gay working out for you?' Inner Santana again. Fuck her.
She liked Rachel. She wanted her. Physically, mentally, emotionally. However she could get her. She wanted her way more than she wanted Sam. More than she wanted anybody, really. Quinn just couldn't have her. Dating Rachel couldn't give her that Prom crown she'd dreamed of since she'd seen Frannie win it as a little girl. Dating Rachel couldn't let her keep her reputation, the same reputation that was going to keep Rachel safe at school. Dating Rachel would mean slushees. For both of them. Dating Rachel would mean-
Rachel looked back at Quinn and took her hand, leading them out of her bedroom down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Rachel's fathers were talking and setting the table, and they looked up at the two of them with genuine smiles as they entered, something she'd never received much of growing up in the Fabray house. They seemed like happy people. Like, truly happy. Not the fake smile her father plastered on for guests.
Quinn had to wonder if she could ever get that same happiness. Because, after everything was said and done, she'd much rather raiser whatever future children she might have in a house like this one than the one she was raised in. Recent problems aside, Quinn could look around and tell that this was a family that had shared so many happy memories together.
And deep down, in a place that Quinn hated to admit even existed, she thought, Maybe that's what dating Rachel would mean. Happiness.