.
You make me invisible
.
It isn't until April arrives that Kurt even remembers that McKinley has a Spring Break.
And then, he can't remember exactly when it is. He's been so busy with his own stuff, this sort of thing slipped his mind, and he finds he'd never put it on his calendar on his phone.
He texts Blaine asking when Spring Break is, and then goes on Facebook to try to scope it out himself (McKinley's website still listed Spring Break dates from last year).
He realizes it's the second week in April because Artie had posted asking who was going to be around because he was thinking about having a few play rehearsals that week, since the play was going on at the end of April.
He also learns it is to be cut short; McKinley had a few snow days over the winter, and so the Monday and Tuesday of Spring Break were now school days. That shortened the break, for sure, but not so much that it wouldn't be worth it for Blaine to come out and see him!
On Artie's post, he sees responses that Tina will be around because her parents weren't letting her go visit Mike, Brittany is going to go down to West Virginia for a day or two (for what reason, Kurt can't even fathom) but would otherwise be around, Sam will be around but will be picking up some extra work hours, but that Blaine is planning to be gone the whole time.
He feels a flush of joy and pride. Blaine hadn't forgotten! Though, now he has to make sure he has some time off that week so he can actually spend some time with his boyfriend. He's done okay, working two jobs for the past couple months. He's a little more comfortable financially, partly because he doesn't have the time off to go spend his money, and partly because he is making a little more, averaging six work days a week. Getting a free meal during his restaurant work shifts helps, too.
He's starting to examine his schedule, try to figure out who might be able to take a few of his shifts for him, when Blaine texts back.
Blaine "Prince" Anderson: 16th-
20th…why do you ask?
Kurt chuckles, and wonders if Blaine was trying to surprise him.
Sir Kurt Hummel: Wondering when you
were coming to see me, silly!
He shakes his head. Blaine is such a puppy sometimes. Sweet and endearing but utterly ridiculous.
Blaine "Prince" Anderson: Call me
Kurt calls him right away. "Hey, gorgeous," he greets cheerfully. It's hard to not be cheerful when he has his boyfriend visiting in about a week.
"Hey," Blaine says cautiously, "Did I…say I was visiting?"
Kurt frowns, and thinks, "Well, we talked about it over Christmas, I'm pretty sure. Plus, I just figured…" he trails off.
"But we haven't talked about it since?" Blaine asks.
"Not until now, no, I guess not."
Blaine sighs into the phone, "I really, really hate to say this, but…I don't think I can make it up to see you."
Even though the conversation has been leading to this point so clearly, Kurt still feels it like swallowing an ice cube and feeling it drop right into his stomach. "I…why not?"
"My dad is taking me down south with him. On a business trip."
"Oh, but…come on, do you have to go?" Kurt asks, "You spend a lot of time with your dad, can't you blow it off?"
"No, it's kind of important," Blaine says reluctantly, "I'm really sorry. I guess I thought it wasn't going to be a big deal, because you were so busy, and we'd never really nailed down me coming to see you…"
"Fine," Kurt answers, trying not to sound sulky. "It's fine. I get it."
"Do you?" Blaine sounds worried, "I know I've upset you. I'm really, really sorry. I'll make it up to you," he rambles, "Come to Prom with me. I'll buy your airfare home."
Kurt almost laughs. Prom? But then, it could be fun, and he really doesn't want to miss the chance to escort his handsome boyfriend. "Yeah, okay. Let's do Prom," he agrees.
"You'd have come to Prom with me anyway," Blaine teases.
"Probably. But now I don't have to pay for it," Kurt teases back.
They hang up not long after, having at least ended the conversation on a cheerful note. But inside, Kurt is fuming. Not at Blaine, really. At his father, at circumstance, and at his own heart, for feeling so betrayed.
He throws himself down on the couch next to Santana. "What do you do when you feel like your long distance lover doesn't care anymore?"
Santana flinches, "Uh…break up, I guess."
Kurt glares at her, "Not going to happen."
"Well, I didn't want it to happen either," she grumbles, looking back at the screen.
Kurt sulks for awhile until her words finally catch up with him. "Wait…" he begins.
"Yeah. It happened. It's temporary. Don't want to talk about it," she growls.
"She…dumped you? Oh my god."
Santana glares, "Yeah. She did. But she is still coming to New York and we will get back together, so calm the fuck down. Next year is still going to be like we planned."
Which just reminds Kurt, they should probably start looking for another apartment. A three bedroom suitable for five of them. Probably one and a half baths, since they probably won't find two…preferably walkable to a train (he hates buses). Maybe they can manage a slightly less sketchy neighborhood…
Oddly enough, that cheers him up a little. He may not have Blaine coming up for his Spring Break, but he'll be up here soon enough, to stay.
He reaches over to hug Santana. She tolerates it for a few seconds before squirming away. "You're so gay," she tells him.
"So are you, sweetie," he smiles, and gets up to make her a cup of coffee and himself some tea. She clearly needs it.
.
I'mma try to swim from something bigger than me
.
Life goes on.
He wishes he'd never let the potheads of Lima come pick up product at his house. Sometimes they drop by when he's not home and make his mother or sister suspicious. He's worried, now, that some of them might be dangerous, that some of them might not be above breaking in to try to take his money and his goods. Why wasn't he thinking more clearly about this? The last thing he wants is to put his family in danger. Hell, that's kind of the whole reason he's doing this, so he can maybe leave Lima someday without hurting his family financially.
Now, he even does like Malcolm does, and sometimes makes deals out behind the restaurant. Not when Malcolm is working, obviously, because most of these guys know Malcolm and would rather deal with him. But in the mornings, when he's here by himself or with Billy, Puck will.
Billy has been watching him suspiciously since he started this, but they still work fairly well together, and he'd still rather have Billy in the kitchen beside him than Malcolm any day. He figures, Billy probably sees what's going on, and just doesn't want to get caught up in it. Puck wishes there was a way to tell him that he would make sure he was never framed for this shit, but he really can't.
Of course, then he has no idea what to do the one evening he goes back into Georgie's office to find Georgie, Billy, Malcolm, and Joey all getting high as fuck together. They offer him some, but he only takes one hit. It's the slow hour, between shifts, but there are still some meal tickets he needs to complete, so he goes back out there, shaking his head.
Georgie always makes fun of his "girls" out front for all being borderline alcoholics (and Puck is pretty sure he's right about at least one of them, who never seems to show up without a hangover). It seems even shittier, though, given his actions. Especially since Malcolm claims Georgie buys cocaine from him sometimes, too.
The fact that the whole place is kind of fucked up doesn't make Puck feel any better about what he's doing, though.
And then, one afternoon, they're having a slow hour. Malcolm has just arrived and he and Puck are cooking the few orders that have come back, and Billy is finishing up a few things to help prep for dinner. At some point, Billy waves a knife at Puck, "Hey, man. Someone at the window wants to say hi."
Puck shoots him a puzzled look and moves away from the burger he's squirted more water on and covered. Billy moves aside and Puck sticks his head into the window.
Becky is there, grinning at him, "Hi, Puckerman, I thought that was you back there!" she greets.
"Hey!" he grins widely. "How are you? You look great!"
She preens a little, twisting her hips to show her outfit—though, due to the window's height, he really can't see much. "You like it? I'm glad! And I'm good. In school, living away from my parents, working." She points behind her, "I'm here with my housemates, so make it extra good, okay?"
"Of course!" Puck grins. Her housemates still have menus, and Malcolm has taken over on the grill, so he doesn't walk away quite yet. "I'm glad to hear you're good. Sorry we kinda lost touch."
"It's okay," she shrugs, "I lost touch with most people, I guess. Coach was really my best friend at school, anyway."
"Yeah," Puck nods, thinking again about Finn. Wondering how he is, and worrying that he hasn't heard anything in a few days. But he's fine. He has to be.
"What are you up to?" Becky asks, "Ohio State?"
Puck snorts and shakes his head, "Nah. I'm not college material." Her brow furrows, and he continues, "I'm just working. You know. Helping out my family."
"Here and your pool cleaning? You must keep busy."
Puck frowns, because he'd almost forgotten about his business. It's still more than a month until Memorial Day, when people really started opening their pools, but he usually tried to start drumming up business now, setting up appointments to help people get their pools up and running in time for the holiday. He hasn't done that at all.
"Really just here," he says lamely.
Becky is frowning again, but one of her friends calls to her across the restaurant, and she looks back at Puck. "I've gotta go pick what to order. Talk to you later!"
He waves back, and feels a little numb as he goes back to see if Malcolm needs help finishing the order. He really doesn't, but Malcolm shoves the plate with the burger on it at Puck anyway and says, "Lettuce and onion," so Puck turns to the salad station to dress the burger for him, while Malcolm watches.
"What did that sped want?" Malcolm asks.
Puck's face burns, "What did you say?"
"Special ed, duh," Malcolm rolls his eyes, "What did the sped want?" he repeats, slower this time.
"Just to say hi. We were friends in high school." Puck knows he's exaggerating a little, but they did bond on Prom night. Besides which, he feels the need to protect her from Malcolm's cruelty.
"You were friends with that? Man, I thought you were cool," Malcolm breezes.
"Like I give a fuck what you think," Puck spits, pushing the burger up onto the window so hard it almost falls off the other end. Billy looks between them uncertainly, but doesn't intervene.
Malcolm doesn't say anything for awhile, just smirks while he watches Puck try to cool off, but Puck is just getting madder.
Finally, Malcolm says, "Oh, go out and sit with your retard girlfriend, I can handle it back here."
"Fuck you," Puck snarls, but he leaves the kitchen, to get away from Malcolm. He doesn't want to go out and sit with Becky while he's still clearly fuming, so he steps outside instead, and, after trying deep breaths for several moments, lights a cigarette to calm down instead. He curses himself as he does so. He can't understand why he ever picked up this habit.
But after a few minutes, he decides he'd better go back in and cook, because he's afraid Malcolm will screw up the food on purpose. So he storms in, tells Malcolm to take a break, and grabs the ticket as the waitress passes it back. Malcolm just watches him with malevolent eyes for awhile, but eventually steps out back. Billy is finished with his side work and should clock out and go home, but stays there with Puck to help him fill the order, which is on the large side, as it's for seven people.
"Shouldn't let Malcolm get to you," Billy mutters, "He gets off on this shit."
"I know," Puck growls.
"If she's your friend, I'll cover for you so you can go hang out after we cook."
"She is, but don't worry about it," Puck says, "You're here late, head on home."
Billy shrugs, but doesn't push it, and once they've served the food, he asks Puck if he's sure he's okay, and at Puck's assurance, he leaves.
Malcolm comes back in, and Puck ignores him completely, which is hard, because there really isn't anything to do. Puck goes over and starts washing some dishes, since Joey won't be in until a little later. Malcolm just stands around and plays with his phone. Puck avoids standing near the window, but when he notices that Becky's table is leaving, he steps over enough to wave.
Becky waves back, but then gestures for him to come out. Puck shrugs helplessly, and she simply gestures again so, without even looking at Malcolm, Puck steps out of the kitchen and into the dining room.
"Come outside," Becky commands, grabbing his wrist. Puck lets her lead him out the front door and onto the sidewalk. A lady is helping Becky's housemates up into a van parked out front, while Becky stands with her hands on her hips and looks at Puck.
"What?" Puck asks, immediately feeling guilty that he sounds defensive. Malcolm made him defensive, and he hates that he's taking it out on Becky.
She just looks at him for a moment more, then says, "You have a big heart, but you're an idiot."
"What?" Puck repeats, bewildered this time.
"You're a good guy. I know this, because you were nice to me."
"I was nice to you because I like you," Puck retorts, "I mean, it's hard not to like somebody who can beat the pants off you in poker, literally."
Becky chuckles, "I know, but you never rematched me." Puck shrugs helplessly, not having a good answer for that, and Becky continues, "I can tell you're not happy. Just looking at you, I can tell."
Puck looks away. He doesn't have a response.
So Becky hugs him. "You're a good person. Don't get trapped here. It makes people bitter. Like Coach."
Puck hugs back awkwardly, trying to think of some kind of defense. But mostly he is just shocked that Becky cares enough to even tell him this. She was really never known for having a big heart, herself.
"If I can make things better, so can you," Becky calls, getting into the van. "You're probably almost as brave as me."
Puck watches as the van drives away, then wanders back into the kitchen, where Malcolm has disappeared. Puck doesn't really care where he's gone. Becky thinks he's sweet, and brave. It's been awhile since anyone told him that.
It doesn't magically destroy his melancholy, but it is a turning point. It feels good to stand up to someone. It feels good for someone to believe in him.
For the first time in awhile, Puck feels good.
.
I won't crucify the things you do
.
Maybe it's mostly guilt for not going back to Lima during Spring Break or Easter, but Quinn agrees to go home for her mother's birthday two weeks after Easter.
And, okay, maybe there's some guilt, too, because her Reading Period starts about two weeks after this, and she's planning to spend it with Rachel. But considering they've been too busy to visit for the past several weeks, she thinks it's entirely reasonable.
Still, she talks to some professors, lets them know she'll be missing classes on Friday and Monday, agrees to write a short essay in lieu of a quiz (something that will at least give her an excuse to not hang out with her mother for the entire weekend), and allows her mother to buy her plane tickets home. It's not a convenient time, but then, it never really is, this late in the semester.
As she heads home, she reflects that some of her reticence is almost certainly related to her new relationship with Rachel. It's something she's not ready to share with her mother, and it's something she doesn't want to have to work to hide. It's already awkward enough to leave her dorm room to find a student lounge or stairwell to sit in when she wants to have a private conversation with Rachel—and not even a risqué one, just personal. She doesn't want to be sneaking around her house in Lima, trying to have a conversation her mother can't eavesdrop on.
Because her mother might. Not out of suspicion or spite, just curiosity and concern. She's become more of that type of mother after Quinn's accident.
Her mother picks her up at the airport, and they hug in greeting. Quinn only feels a little weird doing so, but she smiles and tells her mother she's happy to see her. That part is true, at least. And when she comes home to find her mom has put fresh sheets on her bed and is making her dinner, it makes her smile. It's nice to be taken care of.
Conversation over dinner is a little stilted, but they manage to keep it flowing so it isn't too awkward. Judy is keeping busy with work, church and book club. She's happy that her crocuses are blooming. Quinn is able to talk a little about the things she's learning about history and English and theater, but doesn't discuss the class that's probably most interesting right now, her Feminism Seminar. She's not sure that conversation would be very constructive, although her mother was always a little more open-minded than her father.
That night, she waits until she's pretty sure her mother is asleep before she calls Rachel, and even then, she keeps the conversation short. She feels terrible, because she can't even bring herself to say she misses Rachel over the phone, and instead responds with, "Me, too." She's just overly conscious of everything she says. She doesn't want her mother to possibly overhear anything that could indicate she's seeing somebody, because then there might be questions. She does not want questions, because she's sure she'll end up giving in and inventing a boyfriend. And she doesn't want to describe someone too different from Rachel, but also isn't able to describe a male Rachel. It would be too transparent. And weird, if such a male Rachel is equally as obsessed with musical theater. Then her mom could be sure he was a beard. Was that the right term for lesbians? It should be purse, Quinn decides. Purse made sense.
The next day is her mom's birthday, and Quinn actually enjoys herself. Her mom doesn't want to do anything special, so Quinn works on her essay for school in the early afternoon, and then they watch some movies together. Then, Quinn insists that they go out to dinner—and though she tells her mom she could pick anywhere, her mom chooses Breadstix. Which is fine, Quinn can afford that, but she'd been prepared to afford more. Still, they enjoy their meal, and Quinn gives her mom a present at the table. It isn't much, just something she picked up at the school store. But her mom acts very excited about the beach towel with the Yale emblem, and says she will enjoy using it by the pool this summer.
On Sunday, they go to church together. Which is alright. Quinn doesn't really feel like she'd gone to this church long enough to have a strong sense of community, but her mother clearly has friends here, and gushes with pride about how her daughter is about to finish her first year at Yale. Quinn smiles and shakes hands with several people. And the service is okay. She keeps thinking her conversation with Mercedes, though, and realizes all the more that this group experience isn't what she's really craving religiously right now. It doesn't make her feel very connected to God, but she appreciates that her mom is clearly getting a lot out of it. During the group prayers, she prays to herself in her head. Mostly for strength, and clarity of mind, and kindness.
When they go home, she works on her essay for a little while, but Quinn keeps thinking about her parents. She thinks about what her mom would think if she found out about Rachel, she thinks about what her father might say if he found out Quinn was gay and wasn't attending church. But then she remembers, again, the way Steve's face grew grave whenever he looked at his mother, struggling to speak, struggling to walk.
And finally, over dinner, Quinn asks, "Are you…still in touch with my father?"
It feels so weird to refer to him that way, especially to her mother.
Judy looks surprised. "Why do you ask?"
Quinn shrugs, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't have a burning desire to talk to him, not really, but…a friend of mine, his mother is very sick. And seeing her made me worry for the first time about how I might feel if Dad were dying." It feels equally weird to call him Dad, as if he is still a part of her life when he isn't, hasn't been for years.
Judy looks concerned, "Well, no, I'm not in direct contact with him."
"Okay," Quinn says quickly, ready to let the matter drop.
"But I would know if he were ill," she continues. Quinn looks at her raising an eyebrow.
Her mother shrugs, "That's the nature of our particular divorce. The money that's still somewhat entangled, the legal battles. Even though we've both mostly moved on and aren't really pressing matters with regard to money, our lawyers are still in contact, and so we are, indirectly." Her head tilts, "Besides, Frannie would tell me."
Quinn hadn't thought of that. In her experience, Frannie tried to make a point to not tell anything about Russell to Judy, and probably the other way around, too.
Her mom watches her eat for a bit. "Do you miss him?" she finally asks.
"Not really," Quinn answers, finding as she says it that it's pretty true. "Do you?"
She looks nostalgic for a moment, then says, "Not really."
They both smile.
"I guess it just sucks a little, that he doesn't care about me anymore." Quinn says bitterly.
"I don't think it's that he doesn't care," Judy says slowly, "I think it's that your father is a very stubborn man, and also, his wife."
"That…tattooed freak?" Quinn smirks.
Her mother chuckles, recalling the words. "Yes. Her. From what Frannie tells me, she's very threatened by my existence. Russell is forbidden, by her, from talking to me. And you."
"But why me, and not Frannie?" Quinn scowls.
"Because to his wife, you're connected to me too closely. You're part of the reason I kicked him out instead of trying to make things work after his infidelity. You'd think that would make her like you. It means she has him all to herself now, but…I suppose in her mind, if you were so important that it could split apart a marriage, you might be important enough to take him away from her."
Quinn snorts bitterly. "Yeah, right."
"It's not rational. Love never is."
Quinn meets her mother's eye at those words, feeling abruptly exposed.
But Judy just continues. "Your father is a man who will probably never change. He may be too stubborn to admit he misses you for the rest of his life. Or maybe not. He's also not built for fidelity. Maybe when his current marriage inevitably fails…maybe then, he'll have the humility to ask for our forgiveness."
"Would you?" Quinn asks, feeling horrified. "Would you take him back?"
"No," her mother says calmly. "I'm not in love with him anymore. But he and I have a family together, and I wish, for the sake of you and Frannie, that we could be civil. I wish that you could talk to him if you wanted. But for now, it's probably better he's out of your life."
"You think so?" Quinn asks warily.
"Yes. You're still young, and you're freer away from him than with him. I can't control what he does, but if he ever contacts you again, I hope you're an adult, and secure, and sure of yourself."
Quinn digests that, and then says lightly, "So you think that'll happen when the tattooed freak to divorces him, huh?"
"It's ironic, you using that term," Judy raises an eyebrow at her. "I seem to remember a point in time you looked a bit like her."
Quinn laughs nervously, humorlessly. "Well. I might've been inspired."
"I always thought that phase had something to do with your father," her mom sounds a bit forlorn. "I wish I'd been able to help you more, when you were struggling with missing him."
"I…it wasn't really about that," Quinn confesses.
"No?" Judy is surprised. "What was it about?"
"…Beth, mostly." Even now, it's hard to say her name in front of her mother. Her mom just smiles wistfully, so Quinn continues, "And…just trying to figure out who I was."
"And who are you?"
It's a kind of terrifying question, but Quinn plays it off humorously. "Well, not a tattooed freak, apparently." She gestures at her rather pretty dress, smiling.
"Ah. Well, I can't figure out why you were dressing like that, if it isn't you."
Quinn sobers and stares at her plate for a few moments. She's basically done, so she puts down her fork, and looks up at her mother. "I was trying to push you away," she admits.
Her mom looks like she's had an epiphany. "Ahh," she says, "You were looking like her, to make me angry."
"Yeah," Quinn nods.
"Why?"
Quinn is silent for a long while. Everything is running through her mind, how she was struggling with realizing she was attracted to women at that time, even though she wasn't nearly ready to admit to being gay. The struggle was there. The feelings were there. The aching, gaping hole in her chest that was Beth was there. Her father was gone, her mother could reject her if she ever found out Quinn might be…whatever she was. Whatever she was afraid she was becoming.
It felt easier, at the time, to push her mother out of her life than to risk them getting closer, to risk them having a real relationship to break if it turned out Quinn would lose her, too. It had hurt enough to lose her Daddy. If it hurt that much to lose her mother, too, on top of everything else…Quinn was sure she'd die.
It's funny, then, how she realizes just how long she knew in the back of her mind that she was gay. Even if back then she was clouding the terms, pretending she could be something else, but she knew. God, she knew, and it terrified her.
Which is why it's almost funny to her, now, that she retaliated by dressing so gay.
Finally, Quinn gives the safest answer she can. "I was afraid of losing you, too."
Her mother just watches her compassionately. "I know I didn't deserve it then, and still don't deserve it now, but I wish I you could trust me, that I would never let that happen to you again."
"It wasn't that," Quinn says quickly, tears springing to her eyes. "It wasn't you." She falls silent.
Slowly, Judy nods. Quinn can't see her expression through her tear-blurred vision. "Tell me, dear."
Quinn inhales a sobbing breath. "I was terrified you'd reject me because I'm gay," she spills out in a rush, squeezing her eyes shut.
"I know," her mother responds.
Quinn's world seems to freeze and collapse all at once. The tears in her eyes are streaming out now, and she holds her breath for so long at the confession that it takes a racking sob to restart her breathing. She nearly hyperventilates, and Judy begins to stand, concerned, but Quinn holds up her hands. She needs space. She needs…
"How," she finally manages, voice thick.
From what she can see, Judy's expression is a little pained. "From your accident."
"What?" it makes no sense. None. How did her car accident expose her as gay?
"When you were on painkillers. You were barely conscious, but you talked to me. We talked a lot that night. And I asked you, where were you going? How did this happen? And all you could tell me was that you had to get to the wedding. I didn't know what wedding you were talking about, so I asked whose, and you told me Rachel and Finn's."
Quinn is listening with rapt attention. She had no idea this conversation ever took place. Obviously, since she was out of her mind of painkillers.
"I knew who Finn was, of course, but not Rachel, until you described her. And then you told me you were so sad they were getting married, but you wanted to be there for it. You had to watch it happen. I asked if you were sad because Finn was getting married, and you scoffed at me, and told me, no, you didn't care about him at all."
Quinn smiles at this. She can almost hear herself.
"So I asked, then why are you so sad? And you told me, because Rachel is far too special for him." Her mother pauses. "At that moment, I was a little scared. I asked you to tell me more about Rachel, and the more you talked, the more obvious it was to me that…that she mattered more to you than any of your boyfriends ever did. That you loved her."
Quinn swallows, and nods shakily.
Her mother looks away. "I must admit, I didn't react well to this. I told you I didn't want to hear about Rachel anymore, and you went quiet. And then, I had to worry about you surviving. I was irrationally angry with Rachel, for putting you in the position that got you into the car accident. That's part of why I didn't let you have any visitors, because I didn't want to see her, but also because, I was afraid of what you'd say. You see, I didn't want anybody to know what you'd just told me."
She feels like her heart is shattering, and her body floods with adrenaline. Her mother isn't accepting this. Her mother hates this.
"It took me time," her mother finally says. "Because first I had to ensure you would live. And then I had to ensure you would be comfortable, at home, in your wheelchair. And I had to take care of you, and make sure you would walk again. And all that did for me was solidify the fact that I loved you so much." She sighs in a shaky breath. "But it was hard. Back when you told me Santana was gay, I suppose a part of me was afraid you might be, too, and I purposely told you something I hoped would keep you from telling me about this part of your life. I hoped, somewhere in the darkest part of my heart, that I could shame you into marrying a nice young man someday, and that you would be better. I wish I could take it back now, because it hurt so much to know I hurt you. I could see it on your face. And once you told me, once I knew for sure, I struggled, but I've learned, since then. I've done reading. I got some books from PFLAG. I watched For the Bible Tells Me So and Lead with Love. I've learned that all the objections I had were wrong, and dangerous, and damaging. I just didn't know how to tell you, because everything I read told me I should wait for you to come out to me. So all I could do was try to tell you I love you just the way you are, and that I am so proud of you."
They're both crying freely now, even though Quinn wants to laugh because her mother pronounces every letter of the PFLAG acronym, but she gets up on shaky legs to go and give her mother a real and hard hug. Her mother hugs back just as strong. And it's surreal, and scary, and exhilarating that they've finally made themselves so vulnerable to each other. In ways that haven't happened since Quinn was in a wheelchair, literally forced to be vulnerable for her mother. But this time, she isn't resentful. And this time, Judy is honest about her own feelings in return.
After a few moments, Quinn murmurs into her mother's shoulder, "Mom? Do you still wish I could meet that nice young man?"
Judy chuckles tearfully. "Oh, Quinn, a tiny part of me will always wish for you to have the easiest life. But most of me just wishes for you to have the happiest life, and knows that truly, the easiest life will come from you being happy and true to yourself. So no. Not truly."
It's a tiny pinprick of hurt, but Quinn understands what her mother was trying to say. She can accept that it's difficult for her mother to fully understand. She can accept that her mother is trying.
Most importantly, she can accept that her mother loves her.
"About Rachel…" she finally says slowly, after she's sat back down.
Judy raises an eyebrow.
"She's my girlfriend," Quinn confesses, unable to stop a little smile.
Judy exhales a long breath. "Then everything worked out for the best."
.
All the gold and the guns in the world
.
She has to admit, having a fuckbuddy has worked out a lot better than she could've anticipated.
It's easy. They might send friendly texts sometimes, or links to things they think the other will like, but most of their conversations revolve around when they're going to have sex again.
They don't even necessarily preface sex with dinner or anything first anymore, although, they do enjoy each other's company, so dinner or coffee is fine when they want it. Angela mostly pays still, and Santana mostly lets her. Still, their schedules are so opposite that it's hard sometimes to find the time to hang out without the context of just having sex.
So sometimes, she just heads right over to Angela's apartment, is let in, and they go straight to the bedroom. Sometimes it's basically right after she wakes up, and she has to leave shortly after the sex to get ready for work. Sometimes, if she has the night off, it's a little later, but Angela is such an early riser because of her schedule that it's never too late. Besides, Santana is never thrilled about the idea of taking public transportation alone late at night, especially when there's no guarantee that Kurt or Rachel are around to meet her.
She's starting to see a little more what Angela means about foreplay, though. Because sometimes she'll tease with explicit texts all day (or at least, from the moment Santana wakes up), so that they're both kind of already really turned on by the time they meet up. Sometimes, on the bus on the way over, Santana is just biting her lip to cover a smirk as she sends filthy texts the whole way there. She just really never knew to consider that a kind of foreplay, and not just teasing.
One other plus was that Angela had convinced Santana to go get tested. They both went, shared their results, and since then, oral sex has been on the menu, so to speak. Which is amazing, because, of course, Santana loves eating pussy, and also because it turns out, Angela is really good at it.
She's had a lot of practice, she explains. And there's an awkward moment in which Santana is sure that if Angela were her girlfriend, she'd be bothered by how many people she may have slept with. But since she's not, all she is is grateful.
It seems stupid, but she can't quite work through why it would matter.
One night, she and Angela have each gotten the other really worked up through texts that afternoon. When Santana gets there, Angela is still trying to start slow, with kisses, and pressing their bodies together, but finally Santana just gasps that she doesn't have the patience for foreplay.
Angela laughs, low, and begins to take off Santana's clothes. Santana opens her legs once her underpants are off, her heart already hammering, and Angela just stares reverently between them for a moment, stroking the wetness with her fingers briefly, which just makes Santana shiver.
But then she's adjusting herself on the mattress, leaning over, and connecting her lips with Santana's pussy.
It really doesn't take too long. Angela has learned, more from Santana's reactions than her words, how Santana likes to be licked. Santana opens hazy eyes to watch a blonde head moving between her thighs, looking down Angela's body to notice the way she's grinding into the mattress.
Honestly, she isn't aware of much when she comes, but she does notice the muffled moan Angela makes, head still between Santana's legs, at around the moment Santana comes.
When she blinks open her eyes, Angela is staring dazedly, wiping off her chin. "Fuck. I just came a little watching you."
Santana feels a warm rush all over her body at the words, and in that moment, she's never felt sexier. "Yeah?" she asks breathlessly.
"Yeah. Holy shit."
"Can you come again?" Santana asks.
"I think so," Angela nods.
"Why don't you…" Santana settles back against some pillows and gestures at her head.
"You want me to sit on your face?" Angela asks, humor in her voice.
"Well, yeah," Santana scowls.
Angela just grins, shakes her head, and begins climbing up Santana's body. She settles her shins on either side of Santana's head and lowers herself so that she's hovering just above Santana's mouth.
Santana pushes her face up to touch.
It's funny. It's something Brittany loved, but Santana had always felt funny about. So it wasn't often that Brittany was in the position she'd invited Angela to be in. But she likes it, she realizes. She likes looking up the length of Angela's body, looking at her breasts, and between them to catch her eyes, half-closed in pleasure. She liked that she can wrap an arm around a strong thigh, or lift it to grasp a breast.
But she also has learned what Angela prefers, and knows she likes to be fingered. So she slides a hand around to rest below her chin, sliding fingers up and inside. Angela moans. Santana watches intently, and it really doesn't take long for her to get Angela off after that.
This is when she finds out that Angela can come, a lot. Like many times in a row.
Not like how she could come a little from watching Santana and still be ready to come more a few minutes later. That was fairly normal as far as Santana knew. She and Brittany used to have sex for hours back when they first started, the rare times they knew they wouldn't be interrupted. They'd give each other just enough of a rest and then going right back at it. They had kind of settled down by the time they were actually dating, and though sometimes it was fun to go for a few rounds of sex at a time, mostly they were fine with both coming once, and then cuddling.
But this isn't that kind of multiple orgasm. This is…
This is Angela, shaking against her mouth, trembling around her fingers, then coming, hard. Due to the angle, Santana doesn't really try to stop as she comes down from the orgasm, and a split second later, she's coming again. So Santana doesn't even really stop, and she rapidly loses count of how many orgasms happen until Angela is just gripping the headboard and forcing herself to rise off Santana's face and collapse next to her in bed.
"Holy shit," Santana finally utters.
"I think that's my line," Angela murmurs weakly, still a boneless heap.
"That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," Santana admits.
Angela smiles a little, eyes still closed, "Never seen that before, huh?"
"Was that multiple orgasms or just like one long crazy one?"
Angela manages a shrug. "Who can tell? All I know is it happens sometimes. And it's really, really good when it does."
"Damn," Santana laughs. "I wish I could do that."
"Maybe you can," Angela says thoughtfully, "I mean, I'm not Cosmo, I don't go around telling women they're capable of every crazy orgasm fad that crops up, but…" she shrugs, "The more you explore, the more you might find."
Santana doubts it. She feels like Brittany would have discovered how to make it happen if it were possible for her.
But she has to admit, she doesn't know. Because there are things going on here, with her sex with Angela, that make her feel different than any sex with Brittany. That flush of satisfaction she felt, knowing Angela cam just from going down on her. That pride she felt just now, watching Angela come again and again above her…
For the first time, she realizes that maybe she's not just learning things she can bring back to the bedroom with Brittany.
Maybe there are things she simply can't just transfer onto another woman in bed.
Maybe it's Angela herself who is making this sex so incredible.
.
The shot won't kill me it still bruises skin
.
Two days after the conversation with her mother that night, now back in New Haven, Quinn calls Rachel. At first, Rachel is worried, because Quinn sounds shaken, a little. But as soon as Quinn is able to really verbalize, Rachel recognizes the elation in her voice.
Quinn had come out to her mother. As far as she's concerned, the scariest part of being out is behind her. As far as she is concerned, she doesn't care who knows.
While Rachel is glad for her, and proud of her, still being uncertain with how to handle her own coming out makes her worried about Quinn just telling anyone. But they talk, and Rachel agrees that she really doesn't mind if any of their high school friends know. Quinn is ready to put "In a Relationship with Rachel Berry" on her Facebook profile, and Rachel is ready to accept that. She can control who can see it, so that no one from NYADA will, but Quinn is considering showing it to all her friends except a few cousins she was friended to.
She wonders, if anyone she isn't prepared for saw it, if she could play it off that they were just best friends playing around, pretending to be girlfriends for the laughs. Maybe not, if Quinn is also planning to label herself as gay on her profile. Did girls still do that? Rachel didn't think she'd be able to play herself off as that kind of girl.
There are some great reactions to the post that they are dating. A few "?" from some cheerleaders Rachel doesn't really know. A simple "hot" from Puck. A "wow, never saw that coming, congrats ladies!" from Sam. A "Heyooooo" from Artie. Santana just responds with "gross." Kurt counters, "Grossly cute." Rachel is still surprised he seems to be so into the idea of her and Quinn dating.
But there is someone they forgot. Because Finn posts a response that just says, "what the fuck."
Rachel deletes the response, but a few minutes later, she gets a call from Quinn.
"Did you see it?" Quinn asks, without an introduction.
"Yes," Rachel answers, voice thick.
Quinn sighs. "Did you delete it?"
"Yes."
"Fuck," Quinn whispers. "Fuck. I got too excited. Fuck. I need to change who can see this, how do I do that on my phone?"
"I don't know," Rachel answers quietly.
Quinn inhales shakily. Rachel can almost see her rubbing her face anxiously. "Okay. This is okay. He's been the only bad reaction. Who can see it on your page?"
"Pretty much just people we were in Glee with," Rachel answers.
"Okay. I did everyone from college and people from high school I labeled as friends rather than acquaintances. So we have some control over this." She sounds steadier now. "It's mostly people we trust."
They're quiet for a moment, until Rachel says, "Except Finn."
"Yeah. I guess except him. I…honestly didn't think about how he might feel."
"He has no right to feel so hurt," Rachel begins hotly, but then there's a knock on her bedroom door. "Come in!" she calls.
Kurt pushes the door open, eyes wide, phone in his hand. "I just hung up with Finn. He is freaking the hell out. He's furious with you two, and with me for not telling him." He shakes his head. "One of you has to talk to him, he's in enough of a bad place on top of this."
Rachel feels a pang. Finn, on the other side of the world. Using social media and Skype to keep up with people, but ultimately cut off from everyone.
On the one hand, she understands why he would feel hurt to find out something like this the way he did, but on the other hand, she thinks, doesn't he have better things to worry about?
But she tells Kurt. "I'll talk to him."
Kurt nods distractedly. "It's early morning there. He's usually on the computer for a little while around now. You can probably catch him."
Rachel tells Quinn she'll call her back when she smoothes things over with Finn. Quinn agrees to let her go reluctantly.
Rachel logs into her Gmail and right away notices Finn's name is online.
Rachel: Finn?
Finn: what do you want
Rachel: I just wanted to see how you were
Finn: I'm great. I just found out my two exs
are fucking and im great.
Rachel: I'm really sorry we upset you
Finn: how could you do this to me rachel
How
It's fucked up
Rachel: I didn't do anything to you.
Finn: like hell
Rachel: My discovery that I have feelings
for Quinn has absolutely nothing to do with
you.
I'm sorry we hurt you, but you can't have
expected me to be waiting for you once you
finished your deployment!
At that, Finn's name disappears from her list. She tries to contact him again, but he appears to have blocked her. She frowns, and calls Quinn back.
"That was fast," Quinn answers. "Did you soothe the savage beast?"
"I…don't think so," Rachel answers quietly. "I think I made him more mad."
"What did you say to him?" Quinn asks, shocked.
Rachel bites her lip, "I told him this had nothing to do with him."
Quinn sighs. "Oh, geez…"
"What?"
"It's Finn. He thinks everything has something to do with him. That wasn't going to calm him down."
"But it's true!"
"You and I both know that! We have to approach this from his side. Figure out why he's so upset." There's a pause, and Rachel tries to think, but she honestly doesn't know why he might be acting like such an asshole if a part of him wasn't hoping she would be waiting for him when he got back. "I'm going to talk to him," Quinn finally says.
"And say what?" Rachel asks incredulously.
"I don't know yet. But I get why he didn't want to talk to you. He wanted to hear it from you, because you were his ex."
"You're his ex, too!" Rachel protests.
"But you're the ex he almost married. He thought he deserved better, when clearly, we've both forgotten him," she sounds guilty now. "Give me to Kurt."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
.
It's always the old to lead us to the war, it's always the young to fall
.
From Kurt, Quinn discovers that Finn doesn't exactly have a phone number there, but he uses Skype to phone people. He sometimes video chats with his mom, apparently, but mostly sticks to using Gchat, Facebook messages and the occasional Skype voice call to talk to people.
So Quinn gets out her computer and logs onto Skype, thankful that she has the dorm room to herself why Stephanie is in class. She's surprised to note that she actually has his name added there. She must've added it back when they were dating or something, although she can't remember why, because she doesn't think she's ever used it. She starts out by sending him a message.
Quinn: Hey.
Finn: what do you want
Quinn: To talk to you.
Finn: well if your going to be a bitch like
your gf don't bother
Quinn: I'm sorry about her. She was wrong.
We both owe you an apology. We both
owed it to you to tell you about us so that
you wouldn't have to find out from
Facebook.
There's silence for a bit, and Quinn wonders if she's succeeded in placating him some. If maybe she realized part of what it was that was making him so angry.
Quinn: Would you video chat with me? I'd
like to apologize to your face, if you'd let
me.
There's another short stretch of silence, and then a sound notification, and Finn Hudson is calling her.
At first, their connection seems bad. She can hear some scrambled sounds in the background. She makes sure her camera is on, though, and sits calmly and waits, until finally, his camera comes on, too.
He's sitting somewhere fairly dark, with plain walls, and he looks different, a little, from when she saw him around Thanksgiving. His short hair has grown out a little bit, messily. His face looks a little gaunter. His eyes look tired, face sparsely stubbled, although that might just be because he's in shadow. He looks older than she is.
"Hi," she says, smiling just a little, because it is weirdly good to see him.
He smiles weakly back, "Hi."
It's something. It's progress. It's harder to be mad at him now that she can see him, and maybe the same is true for him.
"I'm really sorry," she says again. "We should've told you."
He rubs his face, "Fuck, Quinn, I just…" he starts, and lowers his head. He pauses for such a long time that Quinn wonders if the video has frozen, before his head lifts. "I just had no idea. No idea."
She nods. "We were both doing the coming-out thing pretty slowly. I only started telling people I was gay in December. Rachel only just realized she's bisexual a few months ago." It seems important to her, somehow, to let him know their sexualities. To let him know that with her, their good times were good in spite of her being gay, and for Rachel, their good times were good because she actually did love him.
"I get it," he says quickly, "It's up to you who and how you come out, I know that now, but man, it just stung."
"Why?" Quinn asks softly, and when his eyes flash, she continues quickly, "I don't mean why like, why are you hurt, because I understand that somewhat, but more like…what about it hurt so much that you got angry? I want to know, so I can apologize."
There's a long moment, as Finn just studies her, then he admits, "Man, I don't even know. That seems crazy, I guess, for me to go off the handle about something I don't even get, but…I don't know. It hurt to read on Facebook. I thought it was a joke, but then there were other people who didn't sound surprised. I couldn't believe Kurt knew and hadn't told me. I just…felt like the last person on earth to find out, and I don't know. I thought I mattered more than that."
Quinn tries to keep her voice very steady, very calm, "But we really haven't spoken in a long time, and you hurt Rachel last fall."
"I know," he says again, emphatically. "I know we're not best friends, and I know I may have ruined things so that Rachel and I might never be friends again, but you and I…" he trails off, "I thought we respected each other."
Quinn feels defensive. "Okay, are you trying to enact the bro code on me? Because no. You don't get to tell me I can't date your ex."
"I'm over Rachel!" he almost yells. They're quiet, and he sighs heavily. "I think it hurt to realize that, too," he says flatly.
And then, and Quinn isn't sure why at first, he starts typing.
Finn: It just sucks. Im over here doing
something that's supposed to make me a
hero and it feels like everyones forgotten
me. it feels like im the only guy in my unit
without a girl or guy waiting for him at
home
My mom is busy, burt is busy, kurt is busy.
Puck is busy and im still trying to figure out
how to be good friends with him again
Sometimes I catch friends on chat in the
morning or whatever but we dont usually
have a chance to talk long. Ica nt tell my
mom wahts realy going on over here and
every time I start to try to tell a friend theyre
lik shit ive gtg talk to you later. And I know
its rotten timing but rotten timing is all I
have on the other side of the wrold
Im lonely. And tot op it off I fucking hate it
here. Its terrifying. I cant sleep most nights.
Its 4am and im hidden away in a shower
stall with my computer so I can talk to my
ex girlfriend whose dating my other
exgirlfriend and I just want to go home
Im tired of the fear and the anger that is with
me every day. Im tired of not sleeping and
stress dreams and missing everyone close to
me. im tried of being scared of anyone who
isn't american and being terrified im gonna
kill a bunch of my friends if I fuck
something up on aircraft. im tired of seeing
everyday that people have better things to do
than pay attention t te fact that im fuckin
losing my mind over here
I wish I could leave. I wish there was an
easy way for me to be like you know what
im done I cant do it anymore send me home,
but theres not. I can't even claim to be gay
and get dishorably discharged. I have to reall
really fuck up to leave here and then it might
be in a body bag or to military court
And this this happens todauy nd I dunno I
guess I just ran out of patience. I guess I just
got treied of being invisble to you people
And im over rachel. That makes its all te
harder because she was my rock thru boot
camp. I was so sure we'd get back together.
And now I have no rock. I cant even pretend
because you took her from me
And im not mad at you. Shes an amazing
person to love. Im not mad at her. Your
amazing too. There are reasons ive loved
you both
Its just hard to be the guy left behind
whensome days I feel like I have nothing
anyways
Guilt wracks Quinn. Not because she's dating Rachel, but because Finn is obviously spiraling—has been spiraling—and she doesn't know if anyone has noticed it.
He's rubbing at his face after typing all that, and though it's hard to see, Quinn thinks he might be crying.
"I'm so sorry," is all she says at first.
Finn blinks rapidly and shrugs a little. "I just feel stupid," he whispers croakily.
"Don't," she tells him, "Listen, you need to talk to somebody. Anybody. Is there anyone you can talk to?"
He frowns, "The chaplain I guess, but…I dunno. I'm not really very religious."
"You don't have to be," Quinn continues, "You don't have to talk about God or anything. You just need to talk about how you're feeling. He can help you process all these feelings. Help you work through them. Because you're driving yourself nuts right now, and you're going to crash and burn."
He winces. Perhaps it was a poor choice of words. He looks off the side and says quietly, "I did this so that I could bring honor to my dad. But now I'm so afraid I'm going to end up just like him."
"You won't," Quinn assures him, knowing as she says it that it's not something she can promise, and possibly that it's too late, Finn has already been too hurt by the horrible realities of war. Well, not even really war, but being so close to a hostile force. Peacekeeping is a misnomer, really. "There are people here who really care about you. Even though our history is convoluted, I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to talk to somebody, make it through this, and come home to us safely, okay?"
"Then what?" he asks meekly.
"Then? Whatever makes you happy, Finn."
He's silent, as if imagining what that might be. Finally, he sighs heavily and nods. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I'll do what I can," he simply says.
Quinn isn't sure what kind of promise he's making, or what he's going to do.
"You know, if I weren't so gay, I would've loved you an awful lot," she tells him with a smirk.
He chuckles, once, "I know. I loved you, too."
A/N: Chapter titles from Kylie Minogue, "2 Hearts," Frank Ocean, "Swim Good," Lady Gaga, "Bloody Mary," Metric, "Gold Guns Girls," Youth Lagoon, "Cannons," and Phil Ochs, "I Ain't Marching Anymore."