Hi guys, sorry this isn't a new chapter, just a re-upload to hopefully fix the mistakes in the previous upload. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Birds of a feather

The best thing about fourth period on a Thursday was that she had Physics and the teacher always let them out five minutes early because he trained for his badminton tournaments at lunch and now so she was perfectly positioned - after running halfway across the school - to follow Rachel on her lunch date.

Unethical, yes, but this was her boyfriend and her . . . friend; that were constantly making puppy dog eyes at each other. A little scrutiny was only sensible.

She tailed a twitchy-looking Rachel all the way to the auditorium doors and then ducked behind a passing linebacker when the other girl spun on her heel to surreptitiously (or not) check out the corridor behind her before she slipped through to the darkness beyond.

Hmm, well, as clandestine meeting places went it was better than the alcove behind the gym. Quinn wasn't sure how she would have explained herself if she'd been caught loitering outside of there, eavesdropping on her nemisis allegedly giving her boyfriend oral sex. That would take some fast thinking, even for her.

This was easy though. Knowing she'd be spotted coming in through the main doors, she took the stairs to the sub-level and walked around to the back door that gave direct access to the stage wings. And once there . . . she loitered.

It had taken her over five minutes to make her way down and around, giving Rachel and Finn plenty of time to get started without her and Quinn gasped quietly at the scene.

They'd certainly made themselves comfortable!

Sitting on a blanket in the middle of the stage, they were having a picnic for crying out loud. It was far too cosy for her tastes, although she had to admit Finn was keeping a respectful distance, sitting on the opposite side of the blanket, the tubs of food a barrier between them. She certainly wouldn't be sitting so far away if she was in his place, especially not when he had the fact that they were reading from the same booklet as an excuse to be as close to Rachel as possible, maybe even brace his hand behind her butt so that he could lean in, his chin hovering above her shoulder . . .

Okay, projecting her fantasies onto Finn probably wasn't very healthy.

"So how big is three and a half inches?" she heard Finn ask.

"About . . ." Rachel stretched her finger and thumb apart.

"Wow, she's still really tiny, huh?" he looked a little awed. "Is that why Quinn's still so, you know? 'Cause, like, I thought pregnant chicks were supposed to get really fat, but Quinn's really not, right?"

Quinn beamed in the wings. Whoever said eavesdroppers only heard stuff they didn't really want to hear had been wrong., because she could listen to this all day.

"Well, Quinn has only just started to show, but from this point on the baby grows very rapidly so . . ."

"She's going to blimp out any day?"

Okay, forget that, eavesdropping was a bad idea. She rubbed her barely swelling stomach and imagined, not for the first time, 'blimping out'. She'd worked so hard to lose her excess weight in the first place that it was horrifying to think about putting it all back on, and then some. Even if she knew the weight would be the baby's and not technically her's, what if she couldn't lose it again afterwards?

She saw women around Lima all the time, the ones that had gotten married and then pregnant straight out of high school. Some of them had been cheerleaders like her, rail-slim and beautiful one minute and then they'd popped out one kid and bam, it was like they'd never had a figure in the first place. What if that happened to her?

"Finn!" Rachel was admonishing. "She's having your baby; the changes to her body will be perfectly natural and beautiful."

"No, I know! I don't mind if she gets the size of a Buick, honestly. It's just . . . she's going to hate it."

"All the more reason for you to reassure her that you are supportive of her necessary weight gain."

"Yeah. Okay. What's next?"

Quinn missed what was next because she was still thinking of all that necessary weight gain. Finn could be as supportive as he liked, it still wasn't going to make it okay. And like he really meant what he said anyway. She was going to double and then triple in size over the coming months and it was already all he could do to keep his eyes from straying to Rachel every five minutes.

Would Rachel still like her when she was fat?

Knowing her, she probably would find Quinn's burgeoning baby bump natural and beautiful, but would she still think Quinn was . . . hot? Would she still want to kiss her and have conversations about getting into her pants or . . . or under her skirt?

Rachel's rich laughter drifted into the wings, pulling Quinn back to the dialogue on stage.

"No, it can't talk yet, Finn! Not even babies that have been born can talk for months."

"Then what do you mean?"

"That the vocal cords are forming—" Quinn smiled indulgently, trust Rachel to zero-in on that little development. "—and a lot of her internal organs, the pancreas and liver for example, are moving to where they should be and starting to function in the ways they'll need to when she comes out."

"Sounds kinda gross."

"No, it's natural and beautiful," Rachel said again.

Quinn agreed with Finn.

Rachel smiled suddenly, her whole face lighting up. "Her hands are fully formed now. She can wiggle her fingers and make grabbing motions and I'm pretty sure she can wave too."

"Okay, that's cool."

"Yeah," Rachel began wistfully and then abruptly cleared her throat. "Yes, it is. So, um, next question?"

No, what was actually cool was the way they were smiling at each other. It wasn't in an 'I want you now' way, because that wouldn't have been cool, it was just – they were having a moment. A perfectly natural and beautiful moment shared between two friends and it was because of her baby and more than anything she wanted to be in the middle of it. For the first time since entering the wings, or ever actually, she wasn't thinking of how she could get Finn away from Rachel or vice-versa, she was thinking about how happy and comfortable they looked together and the only thing missing from this bonding experience, the one thing that could make it absolute, was herself.

She wondered how they'd react if she just strolled out onto the stage, gave them both a kiss and settled between them like it wasn't the strangest thing in the world for her to be doing.

The look on Finn's face alone would probably be enough to make it worthwhile.

"Here, have a sandwich," he said, before Quinn could do anything stupid like follow through on her idea. "I made us all this food and you've only, like, nibbled on a carrot stick or two." Quinn's eyebrow cocked; Finn had planned and prepared the picnic. She'd assumed it was Rachel. "You don't have to pretend to be like those girls who only order a salad even when they're starving. You can just be yourself with me, Rach, you should know that."

Quinn bristled; sometimes girls only could order a salad even when they were starving; especially if they wanted to stay at the top of the Cheerios.

"I'm not actually that starving." Rachel pulled her head back automatically when Finn shoved the tub of sandwiches under her nose. "Um, okay," she peered into it cautiously. "What kind of sandwiches are they?"

Quinn put a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter when Finn's face screwed up in confusion, "Um, the regular kind?"

"No, I mean, what's in them?"

"Oh," he chuckled and used a finger to lift a top slice of bread, "BLT with mayo, I think."

"Oh, then no thank you," Rachel politely grabbed another carrot stick. "I'll stick to these if you don't mind. And maybe a few chips," she added, indicating a separate tub with the carrot to appease him.

"But why? The bacon's good," he promised. "It's not, like, the cheap, gristly kind or anything."

"Honestly, Finn . . ."

"Seriously, just try one!" He waggled the box under her nose again with an encouraging grin. "I swear you won't regret it."

"Um . . .okay," Quinn could just about make out Rachel's expression, and it was priceless, as she gingerly plucked a triangular sandwich out and stared at it like it was about to eat her. "I suppose one little bite won't hurt."

She was inspecting it now, turning it over in her hands, clearly looking for a corner that would guarantee her more bread and salad than anything else and Finn was watching, totally bemused by her reluctant behavior.

It was too much, and even both hands over her mouth couldn't prevent her laughter from escaping.

Ooh, busted!

Rachel's head shot up and Finn turned the rest of the way around to see where the noise had come from and Quinn had to pick her opponent quickly. She stepped the rest of the way out from behind the curtain and locked in on a staring match with her boyfriend.

She had two choices now, blow up at them and be a bitch, to Rachel especially, or . . . or she could have some fun and some bacon at the same time.

"H-How long have you been there?" Finn eventually stammered, which, really, if she hadn't seen how innocent this all was would have made her really freaking suspicious.

She walked slowly towards them, each step ringing out like a warning on the stage boards. "Long enough to hear you whine about me getting fat and then bitch about how I only eat salads," she admitted casually and smirked when he muttered,

"Oh shit," under his breath.

"And for the record, Finn; Rachel's Jewish. And a vegetarian." Bending just enough to reach for Rachel's hand, she subtly stroked her fingertips against her quivering palm before violently snatching the sandwich away. "So, bacon? Really?"

"Oh, crap, I forgot totally that Jews were vegetarians!"

Quinn rolled her eyes while Rachel bit her lip against a smile. "You don't have to be a vegetarian to be Jewish, Finn," she explained with much more patience than Quinn ever afforded his moments of stupidity. "But bacon isn't kosher and I made a personal choice not to eat the meat of any animal because it's an unnecessary dietary requirement and why should an innocent pig be slaughtered just for my taste buds?"

"Here, here," Quinn toasted her with the abducted sandwich and then took a giant bite out of it. "Mmm, innocent pig tastes so much more delicious than guilty pig, though."

Finn chuckled uncomfortably, probably expecting things to devolve into a cat-fight at any second. Rachel just gave her a frustrated eye-roll and a shake of her head that was . . . okay, fine, it was actually completely adorable.

"So, um, this really isn't what it looks like," Finn said, finally starting to stand up; something he probably should have done right away, but she had kind of stolen the show there for a moment.

She put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Really? Because soft lighting, a picnic, fizzy wine—" she took a swig straight from the chilled bottle and grimaced for effect "—sorry, fizzy grape flavored water and the two of you alone here together . . . Looks pretty much like the stereotypical romantic date to me. Wouldn't you agree, Berry?"

She was churning inside with a new kind of jealousy. It was no wonder Rachel had chosen to spend her lunch hour with Finn instead. For as predictable as the fruit slices and carrot sticks and sandwiches were, they were having a picnic on stage under a single spotlight! Rachel's romantic side must have been swooning at seeing all of this just for her. And what had she offered? An hour spent huddled against a wall in the freezing cold, no food, no fizzy flavoured water, just the two of them and the constant fear of getting caught.

How was Finn better at this than she was?

"It does, but it's not," Rachel murmured as her eyes darting between them. "I didn't . . . I mean, I . . ."

"It wasn't Rachel," he rushed to defend her, because of course. "I asked her to meet me and I did all of this."

"You did all this?" Quinn eyed the spread, it was simple but heartfelt. Sitting down between them, she took another bite of the sandwich and fixed him with a mild glare as she chewed.

"Well, my Mom did most of it. All of it, really," he added in a mutter, giving Rachel an embarrassed glance.

"Your Mom willingly made a picnic for you and Rachel?" she asked, genuinely hurt. "I thought she kind of liked me."

"No, she does! I didn't exactly tell her . . . I mean, she thinks it was for you."

Now Rachel looked hurt, and resigned, "Of course she did. Why would you tell her it was for me? I'm just the one helping you."

"Rachel!" Finn hissed, shaking his head in a completely unsubtle way.

"Relax, Finn. This?" Quinn held up the pregnancy project that had been discarded on the blanket. "I have one just like it at home. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you two are doing here."

"Oh. So you're not pissed?"

"I haven't decided yet. After all, you did still do all this, which is more than a tad overboard."

"Yeah," he agreed sheepishly. "Sorry. I swear I wasn't gonna try and seduce Rachel or anything. I just wanted to do something nice because she was helping me."

Quinn finished her sandwich and then selected a pear slice to nibble on, eyes on Rachel who was worryingly quiet. She'd wanted to mess with Finn for going behind her back but she hadn't meant to make Rachel feel bad in the process.

"Buck up, Berry. I'm sure someone will seduce you one day."

Rachel looked up from under her lashes, "Really? Is that a promise?" Quinn's skin suddenly burned with inner-heat and she choked on the pear, but then dark brown eyes cut to the side. "Sorry, Finn, that was wildly inappropriate of me."

"No, it was actually sorta hot," Finn chuckled nervously, but Quinn didn't miss the way he shuffled closer, or the possessive arm that curled around her shoulders.

"Oh, well if you liked that, I can go on," Rachel said brightly, her lips quirked in a teasing smirk aimed at her.

"Down, Tigger. I obviously didn't mean me. Why don't you just get back to the lesson."

"Fine," she sighed, "So next question, Finn."

"Um . . . well, yeah, I did have one. I mean, you've told me what the baby is like now and you explained how to read this so it helps," he tapped the project now back on the blanket between the three of them. "But, um," he glanced at Quinn. "I feel kind of awkward now you're here, no offense."

"Just ask," she said, "We're in this together after all." She wanted to add all of us for Rachel's sake but obviously couldn't.

"Okay, um, like, I'm up to speed now on what the baby's doing, but . . . what's it doing to Quinn, or, like, what should we expect and what can I do?"

Rachel exhaled loudly and her eyebrows spiked for a second before she reached for another carrot stick. "Well, Quinn's into her second trimester now, which is pretty low maintenance, but . . . I think emotional support is what is most important right now."

"I can do that," he nodded, shooting her a gorgeous smile. "I actually kind of like your mood swings anyway."

"Liar," she scoffed, but nuzzled her head against his shoulder until he dropped a kiss on her temple.

Rachel cleared her throat. "And financial support obviously."

Low blow! But, wow, she'd never seen Finn look at Rachel with anything other than heart-shaped eyes – seriously, it was sickening for so many reasons – but now Rachel might as well have been Azimo or Karofsky with the way he was glaring at her. Rachel gave him her best big, innocent eyes and the buffoon swallowed it whole, his glare softening until he just looked guilty.

"Yeah, I can . . . I mean, I'm working now, so we'll have money."

Quinn needed to ask, she needed to know if he was going to get paid enough tomorrow to cover their doctors bill because if not she was going to have to . . . fuck, sell herself on the street or something, anything to get that money! But she was not giving Rachel the satisfaction of asking now.

"Okay, that's good," Rachel smiled, letting them both off the hook. "So let's talk about lamaze classes."

"Yes, let's," Quinn said pointedly as she removed her shoes and set them behind her. That felt nice. "Should we be going to them already?"

Rachel hmm'd for a moment and picked up the information booklet to flick through. "Not yet, but soon, I think."

"What's lamaze?" Finn leaned away from her to grab a sandwich. "Is that like some kind of baby kung-fu? Because I'd be cool with those."

Quinn rolled her eyes as she leant forward to rub her toes. "No, Finn, they're classes that get you ready for having a baby."

"Oh."

Rachel chuckled, "The Lamaze technique is named after a French doctor called Fernand Lamaze, and was developed in the 1940's. It's basically a series of lessons on how to prepare for childbirth – breathing exercises, optimal positioning for comfort and ease, and generally instilling a sense of confidence in dealing with what is for every woman a traumatic experience to a greater or lesser degree." Rachel spouted all of that off from memory while still flicking through the pages, and yes Quinn was impressed. "Here we go," she finally settled on a page, "It says here the start of your third trimester is the best time to begin classes, but I'll stress again this is only a rough guide. You should ask Dr. Chin the next time you see her what she thinks is best. She'll also be able to recommend the best one in Lima, because while I'm happy to research for you, I will obviously have no practical experience with any of them."

"How does she know the name of our baby doctor?" Finn murmured against her ear.

"Lucky guess?" She muttered back. "There are only two obstetricians in Lima, Finn."

She shrugged him away from her shoulder and leaned forward to rub her feet more fully.

"Are your feet hurting you again, Quinn?"

Her eyes shot up to Rachel. Great, now she was being questioned from both sides!

"No, they're fine. It's just that I've gone from wearing tennis shoes every day to flats and it is taking its toll, I guess."

"So no swelling?"

She looked down, "A little maybe. But it's too early for me to get cankles, I'll be fine."

"We have sectionals in a month, Quinn! Proper foot care is just as important as the rest of your current health needs. If you can't compete because of swollen feet and ankles I'll never be able to forgive you!"

Quinn waited a beat before checking, "You mean you'd never be able to forgive yourself?"

"No, I mean I'd never be able to forgive you," Rachel said slowly and calmly, before pushing several tupperware pots out of the way and scooting further onto the blanket. "Now watch, Finn, because this is something you can do for Quinn every day to make her feel better."

And with that, Rachel grabbed her right foot, peeled the sock off and started . . . oh yeah, that was good!

"Berry, what are you doing?" she asked sharply, because this wasn't something she should be willing to let happen.

"Massaging your foot, Quinn. Don't worry, it's in no way sexual."

Yeah, tell that to her libido!

Which was what made her say, "I don't think so, Berry. Hands off."

"But . . ."

"You heard me. I appreciate the research you're doing on my behalf, but that doesn't give you permission to get physical." She just couldn't let her do it. She'd be squirming embarrassingly all over the blue and grey blanket in minutes and how would she explain that?

"But don't you think . . ."

"No."

Maybe there were things Finn did need to know, but that particular intimacy wasn't one of them.

"Okay, sorry. Of course I respect your boundaries."

Quinn's bare foot fell to the checked blanket as Rachel let go and scooted back on her butt to put some distance between them. Her eyes stayed stuck to her crossed ankles and after a few awkward seconds Finn cleared his throat to suggest,

"Should we maybe call Dr. Chin now? I mean, if those classes are so important, wouldn't there be like a waiting list or something?"

Quinn raised her head to get Rachel's opinion.

"Actually, I hadn't thought of that. Lima is a small town with a high turnover of pregnant women. Maybe you should call now; just to be on the safe side."

Quinn's eyes rolled again, "Fine, I'll call. Finn, could you pass me my bag?"

When he did so, she stuck her arm in to root around for her phone. "Where is it!"

"Did you lose it again? You keep doing that."

"No, I haven't even used it all day."

"Did you leave it in your car?" Rachel asked. "Or you could try mentally retracing your steps."

"No. And I had it this morning when I texted you—yo-yo-Utah!"

Finn looked bemused, and confused. "What? Why were you texting Utah?"

"My cousin there?" she said, her tone hinting that she was displeased that he didn't remember she had a fictional cousin out there somewhere. "My cousin that lives in Utah. I text her all the time."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Finn lied, his eyes tracking an invisible path across the high ceiling. "Your cousin."

"What's your cousin's name, Quinn?"

Rachel's chin was ducked, but she could totally see the smirk on her face. The look on Quinn's face probably said, If I wasn't so sure Finn would ask me why, I would kick you in the face right now!

"Janet," she said calmly. "You'd like her actually, she looks just like me."

"I've already said that I don't just like you for your looks, Quinn."

And just like that her smug smile disintegrated. "Why? What's wrong with them?"

"Don't listen to her. This morning she said you were a perfect specimen of ass-fet-uh-something. Rachel said it means you have a pretty, uh . . . ass."

She watched Rachel blush, "You did?"

Quinn didn't know what was worse – Rachel thinking it or Rachel discussing it with her boyfriend like that was normal! Actually, Rachel thinking it wasn't a problem at all and it wasn't that much of a surprise, either.

She hadn't missed how Rachel's attention (ie. Her hands) had focused on her derriere the evening before, nervously at first and then with rising fervor when she'd realized Quinn wasn't going to stop her. Quinn had meant to stop her, and if her own fervor hadn't been shooting through the car roof at the time she would definitely have done so. Probably. It had felt amazing, Rachel's tentative fingers daring to skate over her rear a few times as they'd moved together and then that moment of suspense, when Quinn's inner angel was screaming at her: 'For the love of God, pluck that hand away! What in Heaven's name are you thinking?'

And while the battle of Heaven and Hell had raged on in her mind, Rachel had continued to kiss her and rock against her and her stroking had become more deliberate, more focused and by the time Rachel was grasping and squeezing her ass, the heat from her palm was so intense it burned right through her skirt and underwear as if they didn't even exist anymore.

Her inner-devil was ecstatic.

She'd been able to hear her inner-angel crying for her immortal soul all night.

Her inner-angel was such a drama queen.

So they'd gotten a little carried away, slightly more hot and bothered in the steamy car than they should have done perhaps, and she'd allowed Rachel's hands to stray below the waist for a little while. It was only one time.

One, really, really awesome time.

"I said you were aesthetically pleasing," Rachel muttered uncomfortably, finally breaking the however many seconds of silence that Quinn had been staring at her for. "Which isn't to say that you don't have a nice . . . butt, but that wasn't actually what I said to Finn this morning. So, um, what did you do with your phone after texting Utah?"

"I . . . I put it with the rest of the stuff I had to bring to school." She was blushing even more than Rachel thanks to her little trip down last night's memory lane and she had to force herself to focus on the mundane. She pulled her bag onto her lap and used both hands to dig and sift. "It must be in here somewhere."

She never misplaced her phone. She'd had the habit of keeping it close at hand drummed into her by Coach Sylvester and as a popular sixteen year old, it wasn't a habit that she was likely to break any time soon.

"Hey, where are you going?" she Askern when Rachel twisted away to grab her bag from the edge of the blanket.

"Relax, Quinn. I'm just going to call your phone so that you can follow the ring tone."

"It's probably in your locker; you're not going to hear it," Finn said.

"It's ringing," Rachel said.

Not within earshot, though. How had she managed to lose her phone? She hadn't even touched it since leaving for school.

"Oh, f . . ." Rachel cut herself off and twisted her body away from them. "Hello, Sir. This is-is Rachel Berry speaking." Quinn sat up, scared. What was happening? "I didn't realize that, Mr. Fabray. I assure you I respect your daughter very much."

Oh, God!

"I understand, Mr. Fabray. I apologize if I've caused your family any inconvenience, Quinn especially. . . . Yes, sir, thank you. Goodbye."

Rachel closed the call and put her phone back in her bag . . . in total silence. Quinn just stared at her, scared to ask, and Finn, well he apparently hadn't realized what had just happened, but he was definitely picking up on the tension.

"You left your phone at home," Rachel finally said. "As you've probably already guessed, that was your father."

"Rachel, if he was rude . . ." She reached for her arm.

"No, not at all," Rachel twisted back towards them, but in such a way that it shook Quinn's touch away before she'd even made contact. "He very nicely said that while my feelings probably felt perfectly natural to me, it wasn't fair to inflict them on others. And then, in a surprisingly pleasant tone he informed me that I was making his little girl very uncomfortable with my advances and if I respected her at all I wouldn't foist my affections upon her anymore."

Another minute of silence passed, in which Quinn didn't really know what to say. Actually, the thought going through her mind was 'That could have been so much worse! ' so she was maybe less prepared than she should have been when Rachel started to stand up.

"And as this probably counts as foisting, I should go."

"Rachel."

She was already on her feet.

Quinn dug her elbow into Finn's thigh and hissed, "Say something!"

"Like what?" he sounded physically pained by his confusion.

"Rachel," she said again as the girl straightened her skirt and then picked up her bag. But she had nothing to add, or she had a thousand things to add, but none that she could in front of Finn. "You're not foisting, you were here first," was the best she could manage.

"Unless you're prepared to tell your Dad that, Quinn, it's not really relevant." Rachel left then without looking back at either of them.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"What just happened?" Finn asked, "Why did Rachel just totally freak out about talking to your Dad?"

"Did you not hear what he said to her?"

"I didn't really get it," he admitted. "Rachel uses, like, five big words every sentence. Sometimes its hard to keep up, you know?"

At the top of the steps the double doors opened, letting in a shaft of light over the top tiers of chairs, and then closed again without Rachel ever once looking back down.

No, she didn't know, and she didn't really care about Finn's lack of a vocabulary right now either. "My father thinks people like Rachel's parents should be rounded up and put on a reserve somewhere in the desert where they can live out the rest of their natural lives without posing a threat to the rest of us . . . normal people," her lips curled in distaste at the end.

"People like Rachel's dads? Wait . . . you mean gay people?"

"Yes, Finn."

He shifted back to lean on his hands, looking at her in childish shock. "Wow." After a few moments he grinned uncomfortably. "At least he doesn't want to round them up and shoot them, I guess."

"Thou shalt not kill," she quoted the sixth commandment. "And he just warned Rachel to keep away from me."

"Because of her Dads?" he asked and then, when she didn't answer, "Because he knows . . . that she's into you."

"Yes."

"How does he even know?"

"I had to tell him. Don't look at me like that; I had no choice. He found out I've had two detentions this semester because of her and he wanted to know why I was hanging around with her. He didn't believe me when I told him I wasn't, so I had to explain what was going on. I didn't mean to hurt Rachel, I honestly never thought she'd find out."

The few grains of truth in that must have shown in her eyes because he sat forward again and wrapped an arm around her. "Yeah. I know. It just must really suck to be her right now."

"I think it probably always sucks to be her," she said, which was true enough to an extent and a mild enough insult that Finn wouldn't over-react, but it sounded enough like her to mask the fact that she wanted to burst into tears over Rachel walking out.