.
Making love with his ego
.

A/V Club meets after school on days that there isn't Glee; when Glee meets, whether before or after school and occasionally during, changes to match sports practices as well as it can, but it's just impossible to make it match all the other clubs. It hadn't been easy when Artie had been in Glee, Brainiacs and football for him to make A/V club, but, probably because Annette was in it, he'd managed. Football season was long over, of course, and he missed it, but he'd also been happier to have more free time since. He wasn't used in too many plays during games, but it had still been a lot of fun to just throw and catch with the guys, and even weight training practices had made him feel good. And right now, as the semester starts back up just after New Years, there's a balance to his life and he can make all of his activities.

He rolls toward the school's one elevator to head to the basement; the A/V Club often meets in the Visual Communications classroom, unless they're setting up elsewhere on campus. He notices Mr. Schue is approaching, with a smile and a, "Hey, Artie."

"Hey, Mr. Schue," he nods. He likes the man, despite his tendency to oscillate wildly between being completely neglectful of his duties as the New Directions' advisor and being kind of inappropriately involved in his students' personal lives. But he's usually well-meaning and kind, and Artie really can't hate the man after he'd pushed the club, in Artie's freshman year, to earn the money so he could ride with them to Sectionals. That had touched him, and he has felt indebted to his teacher since.

All the same, he kind of wants to get down there. He's promised himself he's going to have a conversation with Annette. He's not entirely sure he's going to manage to have a conversation about his feelings with her, but he's promised they'll have a one-on-one conversation that lasts at least two minutes. They've managed to have a few of them, so far. So it's with some reluctance that he reads the social cues and wheels up to him in order to stop in front of him to chat.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you about the school musical, maybe," Mr. Schue says.

Artie frowns, "Well, when no one said anything this fall, I assumed maybe there wasn't enough funding or something. I didn't want to push because I was pretty busy, but…"

Mr. Schue grimaces, "Well, I mean…there's actually funding for two productions. Mr. Figgins said the school board intended there to be a fall play and a spring musical." At Artie's surprised and slightly miffed stare, he continues, "I didn't say anything because…I knew Emma would want to help out again, and with the wedding coming up, she had enough on her plate already, and then we had to get settled down at our new place, and…" he sighs and shrugs, "But I mean, if you wanted, you could direct again this year. I'm sure Emma and Shannon would be happy to help as well."

It's weird for Artie to hear staff members referred to by their first names. He wonders if it's because it's still so weird for Mr. Schue to say "Mrs. Schuester." It's still hella weird for Artie and just about every other student he's heard mention it. For the first time, Artie has a flash of understanding for why some women didn't change their names after marriage; he's having trouble getting used to Ms. Pillsbury's—dammit, or, Mrs. Schuester's—new name after only knowing her for three years. She's had the same name for what, thirty-some years (Artie realizes he has no idea how old she is)?

But then he's kinda pissed, actually. He would have loved to do two productions, he would have found time for it, but Mr. Schue had taken the opportunity away from him for the sake of attempting to make sure his fiancé wouldn't be too distracted to focus on the wedding and the new marriage.

He tries to swallow his anger, but he's not very good at that, honestly, "So, what exactly are you telling me here? Because of you, we can only do one show?"

Mr. Schue looks taken aback, and says, "I just didn't want you to get overwhelmed, Artie. You or Emma."

"Right," Artie says, tone clipped, "Well, I'm late for A/V Club. I'll talk to Ms. Pillsbury—sorry, Mrs. Schuester—and Coach Beiste next week."

"Artie, wait," Mr. Schue protests, and Artie finds, once again, that it's hard to roll away from someone. They can almost always get in front of you to intercept you. "Look, I'm sorry that we're down to one show, but it was for the best. For everyone's sanity."

Artie smiles, hoping it looks as twisted as it feels, "When did I ever say I wasn't going to do both productions, Mr. Schue?"

He's pleased to see Mr. Schue looks surprised, and steps aside when Artie continues to roll toward the elevator.

Artie loves directing. And the more experience he has, the better prepared he'll be if he decides to study film in college.

He'll start them both as soon as possible.

.
I add another stone to the walls I built around you
.

Visiting her friends and seeing Rachel's play is the official reason she gives everyone for going to New York that weekend, but it's just as much an excuse to get out of New Haven as anything else.

Not to diminish her friendships with Rachel, Santana and even Kurt, but it's gotten pretty unbearable to be in her room. She's avoided it as much as possible—studying in the library, or going over to Lulu's house, or increasing the frequency of her runs, or making excuses for wanting to go see some things on campus—like the botanical garden, despite the fact that it's winter—and making Sean come with her.

Sean and Lulu don't ask any questions, but she can tell they've both noticed the awkwardness. In some kind of mutual, unspoken pact, Quinn and Stephanie continue to eat meals and spend time with the same circle of friends. The heavy silence that suffocates their dorm room is lifted at meals, but they rarely speak to each other, except to make vaguely passive-aggressive comments. Quinn feels like she's slipping back into her high school self when she does things like raise an accusatory eyebrow at Stephanie if she brings cake back to the table (Stephanie isn't exactly thin, after all, her flesh is soft and Quinn can remember how it felt to grasp it and—). Weight hadn't even been something Quinn would directly attack in high school, it's like she's devolving, but…Stephanie is just making her so angry.

Stephanie had acted patient the first few days after things happened, like she thought maybe Quinn was having some kind of gay panic (which, maybe she was, Quinn reflects, because all she knows is she was just not ready to feel a woman shuddering and moaning on top of her, and everything snapped into moral focus after that). But once Quinn had made it clear that she did not want to resume making out, Stephanie seemed to take it as a personal affront. And while Quinn can understand a little (the other girl did make herself rather emotionally vulnerable by having an orgasm in Quinn's presence), she also doesn't understand why Stephanie can't respect that it feels wrong, because of what they did to Steve (who, why the hell is he so understanding about this?).

However, Stephanie does petty bitch better than even Santana, and Quinn finds herself burning with rage every time. Whether it's stupid little things like Stephanie snarking about bottle blondes when she sees one of those girls in sweatpants and Uggs, her eyes flashing mockingly toward Quinn, or even just snidely commenting that she doesn't understand how men could be attracted to flat-chested women, it's exactly the kind of petty backbiting that gets to Quinn. Because she's spent years of her life trying to accept that other people see her as pretty (something she thinks she can see objectively, even if her feeling never matches), that anything cutting into her appearance she takes like a knife in the heart.

But one of the most ridiculous things is when Stephanie decides to flaunt a boy in Quinn's face.

It happens after another of their shared English classes—this one scheduled together purposely back when they first started really getting along. And who else should be in this class but that annoying ass-kisser Quinn is sure she's seen quite enough of last semester?

Quinn doesn't know what it is about this guy that drives her insane. She understands wanting to be engaged in class—she herself tends to power through her own shyness to answer and ask questions in class. But this guy just…his questions are generally a way for him to show that he knows something a bit above and beyond about a topic, or are just completely off-topic to begin with. Quinn always glares at him for derailing class discussion, but the professors love him.

He's charming, that's part of the problem. He's good looking with an easy laugh and exudes charisma with ease. And the charm seems to work on everyone except Quinn. She remembers complaining to Stephanie last semester, in late October when they were starting to really become friends.

"I hate that Lucas guy," she'd griped as they walked together out of their history class that they shared with him.

"Lucas Lehman?" Stephanie had queried in surprise, using his full name like he was some kind of celebrity, which just irked Quinn further, "What? Why?"

"He's such a show-offy ass kisser. I don't care that he happens to have a lot of trivial knowledge about Hindu history. It's not even relevant to class discussion."

Stephanie smiled a little, "Oh, I dunno. I don't mind. He keeps things interesting, plus, he's cute."

Quinn had rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, "Yeah, okay. That changes everything."

Stephanie at that point had just laughed at Quinn and the subject had dropped. Quinn had seethed silently at Lucas's antics after that, but it's now apparent that Stephanie hasn't forgotten about their conversation.

Because they sit next to each other in English class—still keeping up appearances, Quinn supposes. However, when the professor asks them to break off into groups to discuss a passage of poetry, Stephanie immediately waves Lucas over.

He grins and sidles over to slide into a seat next to Stephanie, "Hey, Stephanie," he greets with a grin, and then gives Quinn a slightly wider one, "Hey, Quinn."

"Lucas," Quinn greets briefly, keeping her face blank.

"Lucas Lehman," Stephanie gushes, and his eyes actually flash happily at her use of his full name, "Would you do us the honor of working with us?"

"Sure!"

It's not completely out of the blue, Quinn supposes. She knows Stephanie had another class with him last semester, and since this semester started, they've been chatting a bit before class starts. But now, here's Stephanie, giggling and flirting over this guy that Quinn hates, just to piss her off.

As she gathers her things to leave class, she hears Stephanie and Lucas chatting amiably over by her desk. She doesn't wait for Stephanie and just leaves, and by the time the other girl catches up, she's glowing.

"I'll be hanging out with Lucas this weekend," she reports with a smug grin.

"That's great," Quinn grits, "I'll be out of town."

"Oh, Quinn," Stephanie murmurs with false sincerity, "You don't have to leave town just so you won't box-block me."

Quinn would probably snort at this if not for one aspect: Steve. Because even though Stephanie is doing this to try to hurt her, Stephanie's intention is the only thing that's hurting Quinn directly. Otherwise, she's upset on Steve's behalf. How is it going to look and feel to him to see Stephanie talking blithely about cheating on him with a girl that she then wants to continue getting physical with and then, two weeks later, all over some new guy?

So she just elects to ignore Stephanie and they walk in irksome silence back to their dorm room, where Quinn gets dressed to take a run in the freezing cold to clear her mind.

So Quinn can't help but have that in the back of her mind as she takes the train out of New Haven.

In spite of all that frustration and anxiety, though, she is pretty eager to see Rachel in her play, and at the prospect of spending time with her friends is forefront in her mind. She makes it into the city in the early afternoon. Rachel is there to meet her, looking…yeah, rough is probably the best word.

Quinn's about to inquire whether Rachel is alright when her friend moves in for what Quinn expects to be one of their almost perfunctory hugs—the hugs that ignore the holes in their friendship. But she melts into Rachel in an entirely genuine way, a reaction to Rachel's appearance, perhaps, and she's surprised when Rachel buries her face in Quinn's shoulder and holds on for longer than usual—and they do usually hug for long moments.

"Are you okay?" Quinn murmurs somewhere in the vicinity of Rachel's ear.

Rachel nods against her and murmurs back, "It's just really good to see you."

Quinn smiles unconsciously, "You, too," she responds genuinely.

Rachel finally disengages from the hug and smiles, turning quickly so that they'll be walking side by side. She's not as casually chatty as she usually is, so Quinn keeps finding excuses to look at her, glancing to take in her profile with the furrowed brow, dark circles under her eyes, messy hair and mildly pouty lips. Something is on her mind, and if Quinn didn't know Rachel so well, she'd assume stage fright. But there's no way.

But just in case, she asks how the previous night's show went, and as she suspects, Rachel just full on grins and tells her it went really, really well, before returning to her preoccupied, troubled expression.

They take Quinn's bags back to the apartment and then have time to run out for a quick early dinner before Rachel has to be at the theater to get ready for the night's performance; Quinn will be hanging out in the lobby doing homework until the play begins. At dinner, Rachel is slightly more talkative, but still preoccupied.

"Everything still starting out well this semester?" Quinn asks over slices of pizza at a little table tucked into the corner of the tiny pizza shop.

Rachel smiles, "So far, still good. Musical theory might be a challenge. I mean, I'm familiar with so much of it, but not quite in this depth." She scowls a little, thoughtfully, "I really wish McKinley had a good music program. You know, some high schools offer musical theory. And though we did have exceptional band instructor, he was not a teacher. I wish he had been."

Quinn nods and waits for Rachel to ask about her own semester, feeling the desire to unload a little about the drama, but Rachel is uncharacteristically impolite, and merely lapses into thoughtful silence once more, and God this is frustrating.

"My semester's a little weird," Quinn tries, and when Rachel just nods absently, not making eye contact, she puffs out a frustrated breath and asks, a bit sharply, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Rachel winces slightly, probably at Quinn's tone, which just makes Quinn feel worse. Rachel stares at her slice of pizza for a moment before saying quietly, "Yes, I'm sorry. I just had a long night. Too much cast partying."

Quinn just stares hard a moment, knowing that the explanation doesn't make sense, before nodding and letting her expression soften. "I get it. I'm sorry for getting frustrated."

Rachel exhales slowly in relief and gives her a little grin, "It's okay. I'm sorry I'm so exhausted today."

"You should be saving your energy for the stage anyway," Quinn tells her lightly, hiding her disappointment as she drops the subject entirely.

.
I saw a falling star burn up
.

Rachel's play is fascinating. Quinn's actually a little surprised she's involved in it because it's not a musical, but she thinks perhaps Rachel was attracted to the plot, the way she is.

She doesn't know the myth of Theseus all that well, just that there is something about a labyrinth and a minotaur. The plot of the play is very loosely based on this idea and seems to mostly involve college students who discover some kind of disturbing biology experiment (the minotaur) in a basement science lab (the labyrinth), and their ethical dilemmas on what to do with it. And there are some elements reminiscent of Frankenstein—how sentient is the minotaur? Is it a person? The main character is conflicted about what should be done, but his girlfriend believes it would be ethical to kill it, and her sister—Rachel's character—believes it deserves to live.

It's not an entirely realistic story. Of course there would be so many issues with the college at large, and ethical bodies overseeing scientific research, but that's mostly glossed over. The crux of the play revolves mostly around that ethical dilemma about what it means to be a person, and that itself is fascinating.

And Rachel…the part is perfect for her, because she would be the person who would fight for the human rights of a botched experiment. She's just…Quinn can barely believe sometimes the depth of her heart. It's not even her vegan principles that express this. Her levels of empathy got clouded sometimes—okay, a lot—in high school when Rachel would act selfishly about her dreams and desires and talents, but Quinn had actually admired that about Rachel. She was driven in Quinn's mind, not selfish. But her heart…the number of times she'd made it clear to everyone in Glee club that she cared about them. And Quinn. Quinn remembers each time vividly, how she would act like an absolute monster to Rachel only to be reciprocated with forgiveness and empathy. Most of the time. When Finn didn't come between them.

And even though it is, perhaps, not the most challenging role for Rachel to slip into, she's absolutely impressive at it. The male lead and his girlfriend have tons of chemistry, but there's even some between him and Rachel. Quinn's pretty sure he isn't supposed to have romantic potential with Rachel's character, but somehow they're expressing an awkward pull toward one another that makes the Theo character's dilemma all the more interesting.

So when Rachel enters the lobby of the theater—alone, this time, not laughing with any of her costars like after the musical—Quinn is prepared to give her a huge, proud hug. And Rachel actually makes a beeline right for Quinn, ignoring the other people trying to get her attention, and eagerly accepts the hug. She slumps into Quinn, clearly exhausted, and holds on for a good, long time.

Quinn rests her cheek against Rachel's head for several long moments, her eyes closed, She opens them after a moment to notice the two leads of the play—the guy who played Theo and the girl who played his girlfriend Ari—are both observing her and Rachel. The guy's forehead is wrinkled thoughtfully and the girl has both eyebrows raised in interest. Quinn closes her eyes again.

Rachel murmurs, "Can you take me home?"

"Of course," Quinn whispers, "You okay?"

"Exhausted," Rachel explains again. Quinn believes her. She had been animated and heartfelt onstage and that kind of activity had to take a lot out of her.

"Let's go," Quinn speaks quietly, "Do you have everything?"

"Let me grab my bag."

Rachel weaves her way back through the crowd. Her she gives big smiles to those who stop her to congratulate her, but manages to disengage from conversation quickly. The lead female has found something else to engage her attention, but the male manages to watch Rachel while communicating with audience members trying to talk to him.

They head back to the apartment, with Rachel resting her head against Quinn's shoulder the whole time they ride the train. Once back, Rachel basically stumbles around to get ready for bed as quickly as possible and collapses into bed. Quinn, though she doesn't feel tired at all, lays with her. It's either that or sit with Kurt in the living room, and she's still not sure about hanging out with him one on one. Besides which, he looks grumpy and exhausted himself.

Quinn can't sleep. Rachel curls up tightly and Quinn ends up spooning her out of necessity for space. She can hear Rachel's deep, slow breaths, and if she sits up a little, she can see the way her lips are parted and the way her eyelashes look so long on her cheeks, even with the mascara washed off.

Quinn's thoughts race and sleep doesn't seem to be imminent. Her body is just so alert and alive, like Rachel has stolen its desire to sleep. She feels full of knowledge and secrets and fears and doubts and wants to talk. A part of her wants to wake up Rachel, but she can't look at that sleeping face and keep the urge to disturb her. Besides, Rachel hasn't shifted once since falling asleep. She's clearly out and she clearly needs the sleep.

So at around 2:00am, Quinn gets up, slowly, quietly and carefully. Rachel does finally stir when Quinn moves, but subsides into sleep again. Quinn moves slowly and cautiously over to Santana's bed and slides into the sheets. She inhales the scent of her friend—familiar, fond, and reminiscent of so many high school nights.

It's in Santana's bed that she finally manages to fall asleep.

.
I've told ripples in the brook
.

Work is frustrating. No one has hours, and the employees all whisper together, asking who got how many hours this week, comparing notes. Everyone's have been cut, for those working overnight at least—a few day workers are still get forty hours. Those who have been there long enough know that this is normal and tell the others that hours should pick back up later in the month, but everyone is still stressing. And at the same time, there seems to be too much work for the amount of people they've scheduled. So they're run ragged at the same time as they stress about not making enough.

She gets home bleary-eyed and looking forward to having the day off—especially for going to see Rachel's play. She always likes having plans on her nights off, gets her out of the apartment.

But when she enters the bedroom and peers toward her bed, her heart lurches violently at the head of blonde hair she sees nestled into her pillow. Irrationally, for a moment she believes Brittany has come to see her, but in a moment, she remembers that Quinn is in town, and a glance toward Rachel's bed confirms that this must be Quinn—the shade and length is not right for Brittany at closer inspection. But…what the hell? Why is Quinn in her bed? For another moment she remembers Brittany forbidding her from making out with Quinn, which just produces a few random, dirty images that she quickly becomes disturbed by. She really doesn't think about her straight friend Quinn that way.

So instead, she reaches over to gently shake her awake. Bleary hazel eyes open and Santana hisses, not entirely unkindly, "what the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

Quinn sits up and rubs at her face, murmuring croakily, "I needed to catch you before you went to bed. I need to talk to you."

Santana rolls her eyes, "And It can't wait until I wake up?"

"No," hisses Quinn, clearly annoyed, "It can't. Come get a coffee with me?"

Santana flaps her mouth a moment, "Are you fucking kidding me?" she pitches her voice in a low growl, glancing at Rachel to be sure they're not waking her, "I need to sleep, goddamnit!"

"Sleep later," Quinn commands in a whisper, somehow calling on her Head Cheerio expression despite her obviously exhaustion.

Santana stares at her for a moment before sighing exaggeratedly and grabbing for her coat again, "Fine," she snarls as quietly as she can, stalking out of her bedroom.

The things she does for pretty blondes…

Quinn emerges a few minutes later, dressed and bundled up in a coat. "Where do you want to get coffee?"

"You're serious?" Santana shakes her head, "Ugh. Fine. There's a Starbucks that's probably the closest. Although the Dunkin Donuts probably isn't much further."

"Starbucks," Quinn nods. Santana rolls her eyes hard in response and they leave the apartment together, trekking the several blocks to Starbucks in relative silence. It's still early and cold on a Saturday morning, so the streets aren't particularly busy, which just makes their silence feel thick and potent. Santana glances at Quinn a lot and notes her troubled expression and tries to care about whatever it is that's eating Quinn, but honestly, she just wishes she were in bed.

Once there, they both order coffee—Santana a bit begrudgingly, but she knows it will at least help her mood to have a little caffeine, and Quinn leads them over to a table in the corner, settling down with her hands wrapped around her paper cup, her eyes downcast. Santana sits across from her, trying not to scowl as she sips her latte.

"Alright, so what the fuck is so important that you won't let me go to sleep?" she drawls.

Quinn lets out a slow breath and twists her cup in her hands a few times, before lifting her eyes, dark, and with bags under them, and saying softly, "This isn't easy. You're only the second person I've told."

Santana just stares for a minute and twists her mouth in a mix of anger and sympathy, "Please, god, tell me you're not pregnant, Quinn."

"No," Quinn colors, eyes dropping again. "Not even close." She inhales deeply again and then barely vocalizes, "I'm gay, Santana."

Santana falls back into her chair, "Oh, no fucking way," she groans. Quinn's gaze snaps back up, clearly surprised. Santana shakes her head, "Oh you've got to be kidding me. What the hell, Quinn?"

Quinn scowls, "Okay, thanks so much for your support. What is your problem?"

Santana throws up her hands, "My problem is I've been the sexuality police for you for, like, ever! Defending your supposed heterosexuality! Because, jesus, it's not like you haven't tripped my gaydar a few times, but I always believed you when you said you were straight, because, you know, evidence? You spent damn near all of high school fighting other girls over boyfriends. You had a goddamn baby. I figured if you weren't, you would have told me! You know! Your gay best friend?!"

Quinn presses her mouth together, "I appreciate you defending me, I guess, but when's the last time I even claimed to be straight, Santana?"

"This summer!" Santana growls, "When Brittany was all, oh, your girlfriend Joe!" Quinn raises an eyebrow, and Santana completes the thought, remembering that all Quinn had said was that she wasn't bi. "You clever bitch," she scowls. "Well, whatever. I don't know how you expected me to react. I mean, how did Rachel, ACLU member at age 6, react?"

Quinn's eyes dart away and she licks her lips. "Um," she starts, "I haven't told Rachel yet. I only told Lauren Zizes."

"Zizes," Santana shrieks, causing the barista to stare for a moment, "You told Zizes before me?!" She shakes her head, "and why the fuck haven't you told Rachel yet? She's like, possibly more of your best friend than me at this point, and you know she'd have your back!"

Quinn just keeps looking away, her lips pressed together now, and Santana stares for five full seconds before she finally utters, "Oh, my god." Quinn squeezes her eyes shut.

A/N: Chapter titles from David Bowie, "Ziggy Stardust," The Oh Hellos, "Hello My Old Heart," Joni Mitchell, "This Flight Tonight," and Linda Scott, "I've Told Every Little Star" (I believe it's from Music in the Air originally, though).