we're going down, down in an earlier round (sugar we're going down swinging)

The next time Matt even thinks about Quinn Fabray, it's weeks after their little slushie-exchange – and all for the all the wrong reasons.

Matt doesn't mind though, and besides, he's too busy to even spare a thought for cold McKinley Ice Queens.

He's caught up in a whirlwind of homework, football practice, and Glee rehearsals.

Oh yes, that's right – Glee.

Even the thought of it makes him groan.

He isn't sure how, or why, but Kurt Hummel's "excellent" (as described by the Coach himself) kicking-technique at football practice had somehow convinced Beiste to send half the football team over to the Glee – brushing up on dance techniques, that would somehow be of use to them on the field.

He damns Kurt Hummels for his excellent skill. And he damns himself for being the sacrificial lamb in the little experiment.

Matt Rutherford didn't train his heart out to get onto the football team, just to then be relegated to the Glee club. He enjoyed the quaint anonymity of being a jock. Not the notoriety of being in Glee. He was used to Coach's yelling tactical instructions, not Santana Lopez telling him that he had two left-feet.

And so, now here he was – sitting in his mother's car, getting dropped off to an early-morning Glee recital.

He's nearly half-asleep, trying to just "rest his eyes" for a moment or two before they arrive.

Matt can feel his mother's gaze on him – he doesn't say anything, he never needs to.

She clears her throat, "You know what, Mattie?" she grins, turning the car into the school parking lot. "I think this Glee-club can do some real good for you."

Matt shrugs, rubbings his eyes – trying to force them awake. "I guess, momma."

She nods, beaming at him. "you always have been such a good dancer growing up – shimmying and swaying about! It'd be nice to get that back into the house!"

Matt smiles, a big goofy smile – he can't help it. There was just something about his mother, and the ease in which she made him happy. "Whatever you say, momma."

She tells him that she loves him, he tells her that he knows – and with that, he opens the car door; making his way to the McKinley High doors.

The school hallways were quaint once more, as he made his way to the music room, readying himself for an early-morning Glee recital.

But when he opens the door, he isn't greeted with the usual sight of a dominating Rachel Berry or an ever-so peppy Mr. Schue.

Rather, he finds the club huddled together – whispering amongst themselves.

Matt is confused for a moment – because today they were going to practice the routine to a Queen song. He ponders over it in his mind – what was the song again?

Bohemian Rhapsody? No. Killer Queen? He doubts it.

His train of thought is rudely broken by a pat on his arm – he looks down and finds Artie Abrams looking up at him gleefully.

"So, is it true, Matt?" he asks, voice lined with apprehension and uncertainty. As if he was hesitant to even ask Matt the question.

A question, which Matt didn't really have an answer for – because he wasn't too sure what he was asking to begin with.

"Is what true?" queries Matt, fiddling with the strap of his backpack.

"That Quinn Fabray is pregnant!" a voice yells from across the room, and Matt isn't sure whose it is – he doesn't care.

He feels a pit form in his stomach, he feels his breakfast threaten to go up his throat and out his mouth.

"R-really?" he asks, his voice squeaks once more – god, he hated that.

Tina nods, making her way over to him. "Yeah, does this mean she won't have to come to Glee?" she replies. Artie raises a brow, causing the young teenager to quickly amend her statement. "I-I mean that, she probably won't be able dance and… er, stuff."

After that, every single one of them – from Mercedes to Brad the Piano guy – start shooting off questions to the young linebacker:

"How did it happen?"

"When did it happen?"

"Is it… like uh, a virgin baby?"

"Does Mr. Schue know? Oh my goodness! Does Sylvester know?"

They're all questions that Matt just doesn't have the answer. And yet, they look at him in awe – or rather, they look at his varsity jacket. And that's when it hits him.

He's still just a jock to them. He's not Matt Rutherford. He's just the linebacker; he's just the dancer. A gateway into the world of high-school royalty and elite.

They look at him – but don't see him. It was the same old story.

Matt finally just shrugs, "I-I don't know."

And just like that, the awe in their eyes is gone. And go back to chattering amongst themselves, leaving the lowly linebacker to process the "potential" news all by himself.

Quinn Fabray was pregnant. And he thinks that he should be happy.

Because isn't this what the cold, Ice Queens deserve? Isn't this the accumulation of all her bad deeds? Every slushie she had thrown, and every nasty comment she had made had come to this.

This was Quinn Fabray's karma, and Matt should've been glad that she was reaping it.

But he just can't find himself to be – and he isn't sure if that makes him a good person or a bad one.

a/n: a bit of a boring chap, but one needed for storybuilding. Next chap should already be up, and is much more quinn-centric!

lyrics: sugar we're going down - fall out boy