Quinn didn't sit in the car for fifteen minutes again when she arrived at Santana's. It was more like five minutes. She brought everything to get ready for the dance: everything but the will to go.

As the week had worn on, the idea of the dance had loomed larger and more sinister day by day. Quinn Fabray? A dance? What had see been thinking? She wasn't the kind of person who went to dances. She'd made sure of that. No boy had asked her to a dance since the first dance her freshman year, when a few brave souls had attempted and gotten a shoulder so cold the poor things hadn't thawed out 'til well into sophomore year.

Of course, it hadn't been a boy who'd done the asking this time. It had been a girl.

It had been Rachel.

Quinn never could have predicted that.

What would her freshman year self think of her now? Most probably the same unkind thoughts she'd thought of herself then, plus a few more choice words. Quinn had never been kind, least of all to herself.

When she finally got out of the car she had calmed down enough that she wasn't pale and sickly looking. Mami Maribel still pinched her cheeks and made a fuss, insisting Quinn eat before she even thought about getting ready. Quinn tried to explain that she'd already had dinner with her father. At his insistence, they'd had dinner together so he could tell her that he wanted pictures of her in her dress and that if she was an immoral harlot he'd know. He hadn't said it in those specific words, there had been a lot of insinuation, but Quinn knew Russell-speak well enough to know where he was going with all that "those handsy boys" talk. But he was excited for her, Quinn could tell, and that had added a whole new level to her desire to give the dance a miss.

Brittany was, of course, already there, but to Quinn's surprise Rachel hadn't yet arrived. When Rachel did arrive, apologizing profusely for her tardiness, Quinn was sitting at the kitchen table picking at a plate of leftovers that Maribel had put in front of her after ignoring Quinn completely.

"The morons in the counsel started decorating half an hour ago, they called me in a panic and I had to run over and give them all strict orders or they were going to fall apart at the seams. I swear! Can you believe that once I wanted to be part of every club and have my finger in every pie?"

"Very much so, yes."

Rachel stopped in her tracks, turning to look at Quinn with shock. She only relaxed again when she noticed the crinkle of amusement around Quinn's eyes. Rachel let out a self-depreciating chuckle. "Yes, well… I guess that is believable. I don't want that anymore, though. Not to that degree anyway. I have a lot of responsibilities on my plate, and I have found that having a social life outside of clubs and teams is something I'd always been missing." Rachel smiled a little regretfully. "I'm not saying I lost much by keeping busy but- I'm glad that I'm making time for friends now that I have them."

They seemed so different on the outside that it was always a shock for Quinn to remember that they were similar in that once upon a time they'd been two lonely little girls with no friends. They had other similarities, too, but that one was huge. It informed a lot of who they were as people now.

"Are you even eating that?" Rachel asked, pointing towards the food in front of Quinn.

Quinn shrugged, taking a small nibble. "Mami put it down."

Rachel joined Quinn at the table and took a bite herself. "But did you want it? You don't seem very interested."

Quinn shrugged again. "Not really. But I'm not going to be rude and not eat it. Parents always do this stuff."

"What stuff?" Rachel asked, trying not to seem too eager about the opening.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, chewing. "You know. Not really listening to us."

Rachel chewed somberly. It wasn't much of an answer, and didn't tell her anything she didn't already know, but it still filled her with a dreadful sadness when Quinn said things like that. Rachel was used to her dads making sure she ate, but she'd never say that her dads didn't listen to her. That thought wouldn't even occur to her. Even Santana probably wouldn't say it with such finality, and Mami Maribel was the exact kind of parent who would say something like "mom knows best".

"You don't have to eat it, I'll put it away. I'll tell Mami we need to go get ready."

Quinn looked doubtful but she nodded. It was surprising to see Quinn look so apprehensive. She usually kept her face blank. Quinn had been a struggle to learn how to read. Rachel had only figured out her minute tells after studying her near obsessively. Now Quinn's small sign of unease was like a glaring beacon on her face to Rachel. "Hey, don't worry, Mami won't be mad."

"I know that," Quinn said. She sounded almost defensive, and very much like she didn't know that. "I just don't want to give her a reason to not want me around her daughter again."

"Quinn, that's silly. She loves you."

Quinn didn't seem to have heard Rachel. She was chewing on the side of her thumb and looking at the plate.

"Come on, let's go get ready."

It took a little more coaxing, but Quinn finally relented. She didn't like disobeying Mami Maribel. "Sit, eat," was a pretty clear instruction. Quinn had always done everything in her power to be as polite and well behaved as she could be with the Lopezes and the Pierces. Her dad would be furious if he heard that Quinn wasn't listening to her friends's parents, even if he hated the Lopez family. Obeying your elders was something that had been engrained in Quinn, but as the years had gone by she'd let her obedience to teachers fall to the wayside. As it turned out, her dad didn't care a whole lot about that unless it somehow came back to ruin the Fabray name. Teachers, in Russell Fabray's eyes, were low on the respect totem pole. They made no money and came in too many shapes and sizes for Russell Fabray's tastes.

Parents were a different matter all together. Children obeyed parents. That was their job. So Quinn had always tried to be perfect for Brittany and Santana's parents. Besides the occasional childhood tomfoolery that she'd been coerced into by the other two girls, Quinn was the model guest. Cleaned her plate, took it to the sink, always was careful with her sleeping bag, back when sleeping bags had been a thing that she'd brought over to their houses and before the general dog piles had begun. She always said "please", always tried to be good.

Santana had teased her for that, calling Quinn a kiss ass because of it. Quinn had ignored her. All the parents seemed to love it, which only told Quinn she was doing the right thing. The only guardian she'd never been able to win over was Abuela Alma, who had apparently seen through Quinn's very carefully constructed façade to the girl underneath. That had spooked her something awful when Quinn had realized Santana's abuela had seen right through her. She had very little experience with grandparents and had no idea if all of them were so perceptive. Grandmother and Grandfather Fabray lived in Florida and they weren't anything but a distant 4-year-old Quinn's memories and the nearly pathologically on time holiday card. Judy's parents were both deceased by the time Quinn was born. Quinn's entire experience with grandparents boiled down to Abuela Alma's hatred of her.

Parents were to be listened to, and it filled Quinn with an embarrassing amount of anxiety to be leaving the kitchen without sitting and eating the whole plate.

If Rachel said it was okay, maybe it was. Rachel somehow had a more normal relationship to her two parents than Quinn did even though her family was supposedly an abomination. That was a very confusing thought. For some reason Quinn had never thought of it in those terms before and it was really fucking with her as they ascended the stairs to Santana's room.

"What took you losers so long?" Santana demanded as Quinn and Rachel crossed the threshold. Santana was only wearing her underwear and her red dress was thrown haphazardly on the bed. Brittany bounced out of the bathroom, equally underdressed, and Quinn had to wonder what they'd been doing up here for the last fifteen minutes if they hadn't even started getting ready. Santana saw her watching them and rolled her eyes before lifting both hands and wiggling her fingers to show off her freshly painted fingernails. "Nails, Quinn! Get your head outta the gutter, ya perv."

Quinn managed not to twitch at Santana calling her a pervert. "And you have to be nude for that?"

"If I don't want Brittany getting excited and spilling nail polish over my expensive dress, yeah," Santana replied.

"That was not a fun dance, you looked like you'd just come from murdering someone."

"I actually kind of liked the fear in everyone's eyes."

"But no one would dance with me," Brittany whined. "They were all afraid you'd murder them next!"

"Stop listing all the reasons that dance was awesome!" Santana demanded with a laugh.

"Are they always this ridiculous getting ready for a dance?" Quinn asked Rachel.

"I don't actually see how this is different from normal," Rachel said back, grinning wickedly.

"Fair point."

"No nails for me, thanks," Rachel said as she started unpacking her dress and shoes from the bag she'd brought them in. "I did them earlier, you guys always take forever so I thought I'd just get it done."

"Yeah, I don't need my nails done," Quinn added, mimicking Rachel's movements and getting her own dress out. Brittany saw what Quinn was doing and squealed, rushing over.

"Let me see, let me see, let me see!" Brittany said, grabbing at Quinn's dress. Quinn moved it away like a matador waving a cape away from a raging bull.

"Slow down. Are your fingers done?"

Brittany nodded, still bouncing, as she held out her hands for inspection. Quinn delicately touched a nail and found it dry. "Okay then. Here." She held out her dress so Brittany could see it. Brittany grabbed it, examining it thoroughly.

"Kind of boring," she finally declared. Santana snorted.

"Hey! I like it," Quinn protested, snatching her dress back.

"Well, yeah. Because you don't want people to notice you," Brittany said. "Black and white can be pretty, but in the sea of colors that will be at a dance it gets lost. And that's probably what you liked about it." Quinn was about to argue when Brittany put a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I hate to tell ya this, Q, but you aren't gonna fade into the background no matter what you do. You're going to look amazing no matter what, and people will notice you."

Quinn closed her mouth. People were going to notice her? She didn't want that. She really didn't want that. As weird as it sounded, her bright pink hair had been a camouflage in a sense. She'd realized it right after her first impulsive dye job. Nobody wanted to know and didn't care what the resident Skank was doing, their eyes slid off her like water off a duck. When people did notice her, the pink was a very "danger, danger, do not approach" sign, but people worked not to notice her before they got to that stage.

She suddenly felt very claustrophobic. People at a dance were going to look at her and see her. This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake.

"Quinn?"

Rachel was looking at her now and Rachel was seeing her. No, bad, bad thing, not meant to happen. Quinn's fingers clenched her dress and she tried to calm down.

"Breathe, Quinn."

A small hand rested on Quinn's arm and she looked at it. Rachel was being very careful how she moved. When Quinn didn't move away from Rachel, the smaller girl started to move her hand up and down Quinn's arm soothingly. "People will be busy dancing. They aren't going to be watching you, Quinn."

It was such a stupid thing for Rachel to have to assure her. But hearing Rachel say it helped, a little.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," Brittany said, looking truly remorseful. "I didn't even think."

Santana looked completely out of the loop. "What the fuck? What's happening?"

"Quinn doesn't like people noticing her," Brittany explained, making Quinn really want to shove Brittany or something to get her to stop figuring this stuff out about her.

"Girl had bright pink hair. What are you even talking about?"

"That's different," Brittany said with a shrug, but she didn't elaborate for Santana and Santana grumbled annoyance. Rachel didn't offer any explanation, either, just kept petting Quinn's arm.

"Whatever. I'm getting dressed. You bitches better start, too, I'm the one drivin' so I get to say when we go."

Quinn wanted to bail, she really did, but one look at Rachel's gentle face, realizing that Rachel would just let her bail without any question and without any pressure, and Quinn was heading toward the bathroom. There was a handprint bruise on her thigh that she'd covered up with concealer, but better safe than sorry. It was high enough that it would be covered by her dress. Her friends took her retreat into the bathroom as modesty instead of for what it really was, and Quinn didn't mind the mistake.

She changed into her dress and exited the bathroom barefoot and without her jewelry on yet. Rachel was just as efficient with her time and was already in her beautiful pink dress. Pink… to match Quinn? Quinn didn't want to ask, but it was the same pale pink as the ribbons in the shoes she was carrying. Rachel beamed as she came out, and even Santana and Brittany stopped what they were doing and smiled when they saw her.

"You clean up good, Q."

"Thanks, I think."

Quinn sat on the bed to lace up her shoes and after a few moments of struggling with the clasp she finally asked Rachel to help her put on the necklace.

"Wanky."

"SANTANA!"

Quinn had to laugh as she watched Rachel chase Santana around her room, looking surprisingly furious. Brittany was mostly done, her dress just as she'd said: bright green with red trim. In the minutes it had taken Quinn to get her own dress on, somehow Brittany's hair had become a wreck and would have to be redone.

As Santana fixed Brittany's hair and Quinn finished messing with hers, Rachel vanished for a second only to come back with a little plastic box. Rachel's face was dusky with a huge blush and she held out the box towards Quinn with shaky fingers. Quinn took it, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a little bouquet of white flowers. "I-it's not prom, I know. And corsages aren't really…- but- but was thinking about it and I ordered one from this little floral shop downtown, they know me and I make out-of-season requests all the time and-" Rachel took a breath, curbing her babble. "I just thought it would look good on you."

"A corsage?" Quinn asked, still trying to catch up. She opened the box and Rachel pulled out the flower for her.

"I can tie it on your wrist, if you'd like. You don't have to take it if you don't want to."

Quinn looked at Rachel wordlessly before holding out her arm.

Rachel's entire face lit up and she tied the little flowers gently around Quinn's wrist. "It's carnation. The ribbon doesn't really match your dress but I ordered it to match your eyes. See?"

The ribbon was a pale green. Quinn looked at it. "This… matches my eyes?"

"Yes. Don't you think?"

Quinn had never given the color of her eyes much thought before. She'd glared at herself in the mirror often enough when she was little, cursing her nose and her lips and her eyes and everything about herself. And then she'd started avoiding long looks in mirrors. Her eyes… her eyes were…

"Hazel, like a brown-green," Rachel said.

Quinn looked up at Rachel's own eyes, a steady, warm brown. That was easy. Rachel's eyes were brown.

"It's a beautiful corsage. Thank you. I didn't get you one."

"I didn't expect you to, it's not even prom!"

Quinn smiled. It was small, but it was genuine. She didn't know what else to say, but Rachel's gift meant more than Quinn could possibly describe.

There had been plenty of bumps, but in the end Brittany's prediction had been right. Getting ready at Santana's had been the best.

It was the dance that Quinn was dreading now.

.

"Rachel! It's a disaster, a disaster!"

Quinn watched as the little junior counsel member jumped up and down in front of Rachel. They'd barely stepped in the door, Santana and Brittany were still stuck behind Rachel and Quinn as they waited for their friends to keep moving into the building. Rachel got a furious look on her face and grabbed the boy's arm, dragging him off to the side as Quinn stepped in all the way, followed closely by Santana and Brittany. It certainly didn't look like a disaster to Quinn. There were tables set up a few hundred feet ahead with student ticket takers seated behind them, and there was a steady stream of kids handing over their ticket or buying one and heading into the gymnasium. The sound from inside the gym was intense, already drowning out the whispers between Santana and Brittany, who were right beside her, and definitely drowning out Rachel, who was about ten feet away and actively screaming at the boy who had accosted her. She laughed a little seeing Rachel so angry. Rachel was at least a foot smaller than the boy and he was cowering.

"We can head inside, this might take a while," Santana said a little louder than normal so that Quinn could hear her. It wasn't at the point where Santana had to yell to be heard, but Quinn guessed it would be that way soon. Quinn desperately wanted to wait for Rachel, but at that moment Rachel looked over and saw her three friends and gave them a sheepish smile, waving them onward to indicate that it was okay to go in without her. Quinn didn't want to seem hopeless, so when Brittany took her hand she let her friend lead her into the gym, a horrible rush of dread filling her gut.

Thankfully, it wasn't like Cinderella entering the ball, where all heads turned to look as Quinn entered. She didn't get away scot free, there were some whispers and queries she heard as she entered the dance with two of McKinley's It Girls, but they faded quickly as Brittany and Santana pulled her through the throng, expertly navigating the small sea of bodies. Quinn wondered where they were even going when they stopped and choruses of hellos greeted the three girls. The glee club had taken up choice space on the dance floor. Quinn noticed that a few of them weren't there: Artie and Puck and Tina weren't anywhere in sight. Upon further looking Quinn saw Artie and Tina against the wall, Tina sitting in Artie's lap as they giggled and flirted away from the dancing. Puck she still couldn't see anywhere, but she didn't feel like asking. She suddenly felt like an intruder, someone who shouldn't have been their with this group of friends. She didn't belong with them, no matter how friendly the waves she got from Mercedes and Mike.

"Oh, hey Quinn!"

Quinn turned to find Finn standing at her shoulder, a hand behind his head as he stooped a little to get his mouth closer to her ear so she could hear him. "I'm glad you came!"

"Yeah."

"Did you come with anybody?"

"Rachel."

"Oh. Oh! That's great! So would you maybe want to dance with me?" Finn smiled goofily down at her and extended a hand. Involuntarily Quinn stepped back. Finn's smile faded and he put his hand back at his side. "Sorry! Kurt and Rachel are always telling me I have to respect people's space more. I didn't mean to freak you out!"

"Um. You didn't," Quinn tried to reassure Finn. His smile grew back.

"I'd love to dance with you, if that's alright! This is your first dance, right? I don't want you to not be invited to dance! You deserve to have a good time!"

Quinn felt compelled to smile back. Finn was alright, as guys went. Sure, he was kind of a doofus and sure he seemed to need constant correction from his friends, but he appeared to be trying. "It's not even a slow song," she said.

"What?"

"I said, it's not even a slow song!" Quinn said louder, pointing upward as if to indicate the noise around them.

Finn looked up and seemed to gather what she was saying. "Oh! That's okay, we can wait! Or we can dance to this!" Finn started to swivel his hips and move his arms up and down.

Quinn laughed. "Your dancing is terrible!"

"I know! They keep trying to fix me but I think I'm doomed!"

Both of them laughed. Quinn looked around to see Santana and Brittany giving her odd looks. She didn't know what for.

Suddenly the music changed and a slow song started. Some people started to migrate off the dance floor, leaving room for the couples. Quinn looked back at Finn, who was giving her a goddawful puppy dog look. Quinn rolled her eyes. "Fine! One dance! Just one."

"Yes!" Finn fist pumped the air and put his hands on Quinn's hips. Quinn had only ever slow-danced once, at an ice cream social at church when she was 12. It had been arm-width apart, hands on shoulders and hands on hips. She figured it was the same concept. She put her hands on Finn's shoulders and he bent to make it easier with the height difference. He pulled her a little closer, but Quinn didn't let him pull her far and he didn't try to pull her all the way against him. He let her choose the distance, and suddenly Quinn felt very fond of the big oaf. He had a lot of potential, and with his friends keeping him in line he could go far.

They swayed back and forth for a while. Quinn got bored quickly, but then Finn started to talk, asking her about how her classes were going and what she'd been up to. Quinn replied and asked him similar questions, not really caring about the answers but caring enough for Finn's feelings to seem like she did. His answers were predictable, his interests nothing that interested Quinn, but as one of the only nice guys at McKinley she had to cut him some slack. Well, she didn't technically have to, but she wanted to. Finn was Rachel's friend and, somehow, might actually be hers, too. Almost. As much a friend as Quinn could manage. So Quinn would be nice to him, as nice as she could be.

They swayed so that Quinn could see Santana and Brittany's faces again and they were still wearing weird looks. Quinn had no idea why and it was starting to throw her off. What was their deal? Was she dancing wrong? Did she look stupid?

Quinn and Finn slowly rotated around again and suddenly Quinn saw Rachel, who was standing off to the side, looking completely stricken. Quinn's face fell in confusion.

Why did she look like that?

For your continued patience a treat. Another update in the same week!