Wow, I think this might be the longest gap between updates yet! I went to post this chapter 6 months ago but I realised it was all jumbled up for some reason with bits missing and that made me sad and all of my motivation just flew away. I think it's slowly coming back so to encourage it I'm posting a teeny little chapter. I hope you like it and that much more is too follow.

Chapter thirty-seven: From Tiny Acorns . . .

Quinn hadn't seen Rachel for the rest of the day; and she hadn't tried to seek her out. She was still angry and with every minute that passed that Rachel didn't find her to talk, the angrier she grew.

So she wasn't in the best of moods when she pulled up beside Santana's car in the Breadstix parking lot after school.

"You scared to smile in case your ice queen face cracks into a thousand glittery pieces?" Santana asked as the three of them walked into the restaurant together.

"No, I just don't have a lot to smile about today."

"Gee, thanks," Santana drawled, and Brittany walked around behind them to take Quinn's arm – always the more comforting one.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

The good thing about coming to Breadstix on a Thursday after Glee was that it was one of its emptiest times. The Big Burger down the road had a family hour on Thursday's so most people went there to eat.

They were seated right away and a waitress came to take their order before Quinn had even had a chance to look at the menu. Not that she needed to after three years of living in Lima.

Orders placed, she sat back and played with a bread stick.

Santana crunched one up in a matter of seconds and then asked, "So, what's with you?"

"Nothing, I just . . ." Santana fixed her with a look as she reached for another breadstick and for some Godforsaken reason it all just came pouring out. "My Dad knows Rachel has a crush on me and she spoke to him on the phone today and he basically told her to stay away from me."

Santana finished her breadstick – it was like watching a beaver devour a log – and then grabbed another to point at her, "Failing to see the bad so far."

"How? What do you mean?"

"Okay, so your Dad doesn't like gays, not cool, but surely him warning Stubbles off . . . Maybe this'll actually get through her thick, dwarfish skull."

"I think it did."

"And you're sad about that?"

"No, of course not, but . . ."

"But what, Q? That loser has been following you around for weeks. This seems like the perfect way to shake her off."

"Maybe, but I don't want her to feel bad for being gay, or bisexual, whatever she is. It's not like she can help it, right?"

Santana didn't answer but her next bread stick disappeared more thoughtfully. Quinn ducked her head under the pretence of pushing hair from her eyes to avoid her perceptive gaze.

Brittany had been quietly watching their conversation but now piped up with, "So, Quinn, you never told us how you got pregnant!"

Quinn glared at her before darting her eyes around to see who might have overheard. Nobody was close enough, thank God.

Then Santana laughed, "That's actually true. Come on, spill the dirty secret."

And Quinn realized it for the subject change it was meant to be and the desire to slap Brittany morphed into a desire to hug her.

"Okay, well it's totally ridiculous actually and you can't tell anyone how lame I am."

She proceeded to recount the hot tub story.

"I guess it makes sense that sperm can swim through water," Brittany said. "I mean they are little tadpoles, right?"

Santana wasn't as gullible as Finn or Brittany, but she already had the necessary embellishments in place – honestly she'd never expected Finn to be quite that gullible either!

"We were really close, you know, like down there. I'd already planned for that night to be the night and we were already, um . . ."

"Dry-humping?" Santana asked with undisguised glee at her discomfort.

A perfect image of Rachel grinding against her thigh came back to her, hair wild, eyes half closed, mouth opening and closing as she licked her lips, trying to find the breath to speak . . .

The waitress came back with their meals before her dazed expression could register with her friends.

"Well, we were in a hot tub, so it wasn't exactly dry," she smirked, digging into her spaghetti.

Rachel speared a piece of nut cutlet on her fork and then finally growled, "What is with you two?"

She was already in a foul mood thanks to how her day had gone – Quinn hadn't once tried to find her to apologize! – and now her parents were looking at her like she'd fluffed her lines on her Broadway debut and they were too scared to point it out.

Her Daddy took his time chewing his mouthful. "We need to have a talk, Baby Girl."

Oh, God, what had she done? She tried to think back to any recent misdemeanors. Had they found out about her detention on Tuesday? She needed an excuse for why she'd skipped class! Why hadn't she thought of one already?

"Russell Fabray called me this afternoon," her Dad said quietly. "As you can imagine I was a little surprised."

"Oh." She was so tense all of sudden that she was surprised she wasn't quivering like a tuning fork. "What did he want?"

"What's the nature of your friendship with Quinn?" her Daddy asked, never one for beating around the bush.

"We're friends. You know that." He gave her a stern look. "We are!"

She wasn't even lying. They were just friends. And Quinn was obviously still very much in love with Finn, so even if they did kiss from time to time, they were still nothing more than friends.

"And are you okay with that?" her Daddy asked.

Talk about the wrong question at the wrong time. Still, she managed to force out, "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Fabray seems to think you're stalking her."

Rachel laughed because, Oh God! "I'm not. I promise I'm not."

"We didn't think so," her Dad nodded. "Quinn's been here enough for us to see that you two are friends, but . . ."

When her Dad trailed off uncomfortably, her Daddy took over, "Her father has concerns that you may be harboring romantic feelings for her and, honestly, I'm concerned about that too."

"I'm not." She pushed a piece of cutlet into her mouth even though she knew she had no hope of being able to chew it with how dry and uncooperative it was suddenly being.

"She has a boyfriend, Rachel, a baby on the way!"

"I know!" she mumbled and then covered her mouth with her hand until she managed to swallow. It left a painful lump in her throat. "I'm aware of that, Daddy! We're just friends!"

"Well, you need to stop."

"What?"

"You need to leave her alone."

"What?"

"I'm serious, Rachel."

"Hiram."

"No, LeRoy! He threatened our child. Unless Quinn is prepared to step up and explain to that man that they are friends by mutual consent I want Rachel staying the heck away!"

"He threatened me?" Rachel's cutlery clattered to her plate. "And you're just giving in to him?"

"Not physically," her Dad rushed to explain. "But he was very clear that if you persisted in pushing your unwanted advances on his daughter that he would go to the school board to have you removed from the same classes . . . and to the police to have a restraining order placed on you."

Rachel laughed again, it hurt her throat, and pushed up from her chair. She had to get away from this . . . this nonsense!

"Baby Girl, we haven't finished."

"Yes we have. You want me to stay away from her? Done. But I don't want to talk about how I must give up my best friend because her homophobic jerk of a father told my supposedly proud, gay dads thatI have to, anymore, if that's okay?"

Her Daddy was glaring, annoyed, but her Dad flicked his hand towards the door, indicating she could go.

Half full plate in hand she slumped against the wall outside the dining room with tears already thick in her eyes, and overheard her Daddy say:

"Okay, I admit that could have gone better."

Dad's response was morosely quiet. "No, considering the situation, I really don't think it could have done."

Thanks for reading x