Sorry I haven't been replying to feedback individually recently, I'm just ridiculously busy with rl. I appreciate every comment left for me though. For those of you hating on Quinn right now I'm not going to apologize. She was a nasty piece of work for the first half of season 1. I will promise she'll improve, and I promise Rachel still has a backbone, and I'll also promise Santana will stop being a cardboard cut out in a about 4 chapters time, but for everything else you'll have to keep reading.

Chapter Four:

You Have To Make It Work, Or Else Nothing Works At all.

Quinn was happy. The morning had been a little hit-or-miss with them arguing practically as much as they were getting along, but the thing she was finding with Rachel: even when the girl was pissing her off so much she wanted to smother her with a pillow, she'd still rather be with her than anyone else.

It was disconcerting, but not something she felt the need to run away from – at least not yet. She had to find a way to get her to stop pushing for answers all the time though; for answers that Quinn didn't have, about things she didn't want to think too hard about. It was understandable that Rachel was confused about their current situation, but surely she couldn't be more confused than Quinn was?

She hadn't wanted to leave any more than Rachel had wanted her to leave. Quinn had been preparing herself to spend a lonely weekend after seeing Finn, anxiously waiting for Monday when she could see Rachel again, if only from afar. If Rachel hadn't been being such a little brat about it, she'd have never have had the courage to ask to see her again on the same day – because how desperate would that have made her look?

Not that Quinn knew where she was going to take her later. Staying in Rachel's room for the evening would have suited better. It wasn't like she could take her for a meal or to the movie theatre; that would be pushing her luck too far. On a Saturday night in Lima, with limited things for teenagers to do, they were bound to run into somebody they knew.

If only she hadn't implied it was a date.

Despite that problem, she was still excited for the evening to arrive. The hours in-between were going to seem so dull.

She chastised herself when she remembered one of those hours was going to be spent with Finn and, while they never had the most scintillating conversations, it wasn't charitable to call her boyfriend dull. Besides, as she was almost certain he was going to break up with her and she was going to do everything in her power to stop him, this was probably going to be the most interesting conversation they'd ever had!

Her good mood slowly fell the closer she drove to the restaurant, the way they'd parted coming back in startling detail. Seriously, Rachel forgot their first kiss but Quinn couldn't even forget one traumatizing event from last night? Clearly her brain handled alcohol all wrong.

She'd caught up with Finn shortly after the crowning had been turned into a more entertaining spectacle on stage. Figgins was still shouting into the microphone that the perpetrator would be suspended! She was still giggling about it when a shadow loomed over her.

"Hey," she greeted him, reaching out to touch his arm. "I was starting to think I'd lost you." Realizing she shouldn't be putting such ideas in his head she hurried on, "Did you see that?"

He half-smiled and a light blush lit up his cheeks, "Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss. Was it Brittany? I recognized the hat."

She shrugged, glad that Puck had been so fast about it that even his best friend hadn't realized it was him. That would make it hard for Figgins to identify him later. She wasn't worried about Brittany; she tended to be the center of attention at school dances so there would be alibis.

"Where have you been?"

"Around. Hiding," he admitted after a moment.

"From me?"

"No, of course not," he was lying.

"I'm sorry, Finn. I did what I thought I had to, but it was a mistake."

"Trying to kiss Rachel or telling the whole school about it?"

She shrugged again, uncomfortably, "Both. Can we put it behind us?"

He held her eyes for a moment but it was only when his gaze dropped to her stomach that he smiled.

"Yeah, I guess so. We've both done some stupid things because of… because of…"

She helped him out, "Rachel?"

"Yeah."

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn't; he just stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants and shuffled his feet.

"I'm willing to overlook your indiscretion if you can do the same with mine?"

"My what?"

"You kissing Rachel."

"Oh, yeah, that. Okay, thanks, and, uh, yeah, you too."

She smiled and gently placed a hand on his elbow, "So, did you want to dance? There are only a few songs left."

"Sure."

They walked closer to the stage but stayed on the outskirts of the dancefloor, away from the flashing lights, and there she wrapped her arms around his waist as Mariah Carey began to play. He held her close with his hands, encouraging her to rest her head on his chest. It was nice. It would have been even nicer if she could stop listening to the lyrics and wishing she was dancing with someone else instead. She was almost in tears by the time the song came to a close, merging seamlessly into something new. She pulled away from him, blinking.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long day."

He nodded and reached out to wipe something wet from her cheek. Damn, she actually was crying! She pulled her face away.

"Sorry, hormones," she said with a laugh that she hoped didn't sound fake.

He leaned down a little, smiling as he brushed another tear from her face, "How about I get you home? I don't think anything else exciting is going to happen tonight anyway."

When she smiled back, it felt watery, "Okay, thank you."

They were halfway across the gym when they were accosted.

"Whoa-ho, Hudson, leaving so soon and with someone else's date? That's rude," Azimio Adams grinned at him as he blocked their path, "Does Berry know you're trying to steal her girl?"

Shit! How should she deal with this? Come on, she needed something fast!

"Shut up!" Oh, yeah, that was the snappy comeback she needed!

Finn's wasn't much better, "Back off, dude, you don't know what you're talking about!"

David Karofsky stepped up, "Hey, Finn, I wanted to apologize."

"What for?" he asked warily.

"I've been calling you gay for over a month now and I finally realize how offensive that is," Quinn glared at the hockey player but Finn, stupidly, seemed to relax a little, "I should have been calling you a lesbian!"

"Back off, Karofsky!" Finn wanted to lunge at him but Quinn's hand hooking under his arm kept him by her side.

"Not that I am a lesbian," she said loud enough for her voice to carry to those nearest the fray, "But even if I was, that would still make Finn more of a stud than you two will ever be. I mean, look at you? You can't even get a straight girl as a date; that's why you're here together."

She may have worded that a little wrong, but she'd induced enough fury in them that they didn't notice her slip.

"Fuck you, Fabray!" Karofsky took a step closer, fists clenched but still at his sides, posturing mostly with his puffed out chest. "You wanna go around kissing girls like a boy, I got no problem beating you down like one."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try, you pathetic meathead!" That might have been the alcohol talking.

"Yeah, really?" Karofsky took another step closer, "You sure about that?"

"Stay the fuck away from her, asshole!" Finn pushed him back and when Azimio fronted for his friend, Finn shoved his chest too, making him back up a step.

"Oh no, you did not just do that!" Azimio threw his arms up in offense, "I ain't like you, I don't need no lesbian touching me; I can get a real woman." Finn took a swing at him and Azimio ducked back just in time, "Oh, you're lucky I have a moral problem with hitting girls, Finnessa!"

Finn took another swing that only didn't connect because Quinn dragged him back by his other arm, "Stop it, they're just trying to get a rise out of you, Finn. Don't let them."

Finn trembled furiously next to her, glaring.

"Guess we know who wears the pants in that relationship!" Karofsky crowed.

"Like there was even any doubt!"

At least she was wearing the pants in one of her relationships! Not that she was in a relationship with Rachel… Okay, she'd lost focus a little there and Finn was lunging again.

"Shut up!"

"Ooh, I think we touched a nerve," Azimio coo'd.

"What do you expect, he's a big girl!"

Grabbing his arm, Quinn hauled him back again, "Can't you just please ignore them? I told you they're not worth it!"

"That's easy for you to say!"

No, it really wasn't.

Finn wrenched his arm away, "You don't get it! I'm a dude! I don't need you acting all butch and defending me!"

Now Quinn seethed, "I am not acting butch, and if you evercall me that again I will dump your ass so fast no one will even remember that I let you date me in the first place! It is not my fault you let those jerks emasculate you, Finn!"

"Yes it is! It's all your fault. You're the one who kissed another girl!"

"Finn!" she hissed, all too aware of the crowd this little show had drawn.

"No! You did this!" He took several steps back from her, hands raised to keep her at bay, "And you found your own way here, so you can find your own way home."

He turned and left, barging through people on his way to the doors. Quinn was left staring after him, in a circle of whispering spectators.

She pulled into the Breadstix parking lot and saw Finn leaning on his Mom's car. She gave him a wave and he nodded but didn't approach her after she'd found a space, just waited for her to walk over to him.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. My car was nearly out of gas so I stopped on my way."

"S'okay," he pushed off of the blue Pinto, "Are you hungry?" His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck as she tried to take it.

She pretended not to notice and smiled, "Shall we go in?"

Breadstix was one of the most popular restaurants in Lima, especially on a Saturday afternoon. Finn hadn't thought to make a reservation, so they waited for fifteen minutes to be seated. It was an awkward, mostly silent fifteen minutes.

"What can I get you?" their waiter asked.

Finn stared at the menu, "I don't know, what can be cooked and eaten in ten minutes?"

The waiter shrugged, "A salad?"

Finn sighed, "I'll take a burger with everything but can you put it in a take-out box so I don't have to waste time getting it wrapped up when I need to go?"

"Of course, and for the lady?"

She smirked at him, "I'll have a chicken salad."

"In a take-out box?"

"No."

"So," Finn drummed his fingers on the table once they were alone, "Last night was really bad."

"It was."

"I shouldn't have left you like that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Don't you want to apologize for anything?"

"I already have. I'm not apologizing for what happened with those idiots. That was not my fault," she kept her voice calm but firm.

"It kind of was. They only started on me because of you."

"Maybe," she conceded, "but it's not my fault you let them get to you."

Finn looked down at his paper place-mat, "You tried to kiss another girl, Quinn, and not just any girl: Rachel!"

Heart hammering, she still made a good job of keeping her voice steady, "I thought we'd already talked through this?"

"We did, but I never asked… are you, like…?"

Quinn swallowed, hard, "Like what?"

"Do you actually like Rachel?"

There was suddenly a deafening calm in her head, "No."

"So you're not, like, into her or anything?"

"No."

"So you didn't try and kiss her because you wanted to kiss her?"

"No."

"And you're not like, a secret lesbian or whatever?"

Quinn's mind was swimming, it would have been pleasant under any other circumstances, "No."

"Sorry for the twenty questions, but I needed to know, you know?"

"It's fine," her brain was going to come back to shore at some point, right? "I'm sorry I made you doubt me."

"I didn't, not really. Well, I guess I did. It's just been an intense week with everyone telling me you're into Rachel. Last night was just a bit too much, I guess," he paused, fidgeting with his cutlery, bouncing them lightly against the table like drum sticks. They hardly made any sound but Quinn watched them go up and down. "If you were, you'd tell me though, right? I mean, I could probably be okay with it if you just told me."

She knew this trick; although she'd never expected him to use it on her.

"I'm not into Rachel, Finn. Why would I be when I have you?"

"Okay," Finn finally seemed to relax, setting his knife and fork down and slouching back in the booth. "So, Matt's having a party because his parents are going to Cabo or somewhere for their anniversary. I wasn't gonna ask because I know you're not really into it right now, what with the baby and all, but maybe we should go." The automatic 'okay' was on the tip of her tongue but he was so unused to such a notion that he was already laying out his list of reasons. "We haven't been out since Puck's party and that was weeks ago. And you've been so weird and moody over the stuff going on in Glee recently that it's kinda not fun to be around you in school, no offense. And I know you don't like parties at the moment because they make you feel sick, but it's not going to be a rager. His neighbors are kind of jerks so he has to keep it low profile. I just think it would be nice to, I don't know, have some fun with our friends together, like… as, you know, a couple."

"Okay."

He didn't hear her, "You're having my baby, but honestly, except when you're yelling at me about it, it sometimes feels like you don't even want me around for anything. Like it could be anybody's baby and it wouldn't even make any difference. Like I don't even matter."

And just as she'd been inching towards being back on dry land, the dark tide came and took her mind away again, "Yeah, sorry." She shook it away; she'd lost control of too many things lately, she wasn't losing control of Finn as well, "Of course you matter to me. I'm just scared and when I get scared I close off. I'll try not to do it anymore, okay?" Reaching across the table to take his hand she smiled at him, "And of course I'll go to Matt's party with you. You're right, we need to spend more time together."

She really had to start being more sensitive to his feelings. It was easy to forget he even had any, because he was a boy for one, but also up until now he'd always been so laid back with her. They'd been dating four months before he'd stood up to her for the first time – and that had been over joining Glee. She hadn't been wrong about it causing trouble between them, had she? Except she'd gotten it the wrong way around and it was her eyes following Rachel around the choir room, not his.

She knew he was scared about the baby too, but as often as she could she just brushed his fears aside as unimportant to focus on her own. She'd been a terrible girlfriend all around, really, because she also hadn't given a thought to how her performance last night might leave him shaken.

He was feeling foolish and no wonder: Karofsky and Azimio had really gotten to him. Questioning his sexuality was bad enough, but apparently questioning his girlfriend's was worse; that questioned his status as a man and was a far greater crime.

It was something he was super-sensitive about, she knew. He'd always been the 'man of the house' at home, ever since he was a little boy he'd felt that he had to be for his mom, and it leaked out all over his personality. It was why being the Leading Man in Glee had made the loser club so appealing for him. Why he hadn't really questioned her explanation about the baby's conception, or used his doubts as a reason to run away from the responsibility. Why he'd stepped up and accepted his fate as a teenage father instead.

Why hadn't she given that any consideration before making her speech? But she hadn't set out to hurt him; she hadn't truly realized she had the power to. It was something new, a boy with genuine feelings for her. She wasn't used to it. Unless it was just his pride that was hurt, the realist in her added darkly. Even if it was, that didn't make it okay that she had disregarded his feelings. Whatever else happened between them, whether they ended today or not, he could never find out what had actually taken place between her and Rachel; he didn't deserve that.

When her salad was set down in front of her she jerked her out of her thoughts and realized Finn was talking to her, and she had no idea how long he had been speaking.

"So, it'll be awesome. Mike's already said he'd give us a ride because you gave him one last time, so you don't even have to drive."

She grimaced at that idea, or just at Mike's name maybe, but pretended it was over some imaginary dirt on her knife and set it aside, "No, I'll drive us. In case I get sick while I'm there, I'd rather have my car."

"Okay, I'll text him not to bother," Finn agreed readily.

Quinn watched as he pulled his phone out and struggled to text with one hand and eat his giant burger with the other. It was gross, but kind of funny too, and she smiled at him as she picked through her salad with her fork.

"So what night is it?"

"I just told you. It's tonight."

"Oh, right I for… got," Shit! Not tonight! She looked back up at her boyfriend, "Finn, I can't, not tonight."

"Why? It's Saturday. It's not like we have school tomorrow."

"But I have church. I can't be out late."

"But your curfew is always later on a Saturday."

It was. Sunday to Thursday it was ten-thirty but it got bumped up to eleven-thirty on the weekends, but only providing her Dad knew exactly where she was and what she was doing and who she was doing it with.

"It's too short notice! My parents aren't going to let me go to a party at the drop of a hat and there's no time to get someone to pretend to be Mrs. Rutherford either."

"Won't Santana do it?"

"I'm not sure Santana is even speaking to me."

"Then Brittany?"

"It's too risky, Finn. I'm already laying low with my parents because of the pregnancy, I can't do anything to make them mad at me."

He finished sending his text and took a dejected bite of his burger. When he'd finished chewing, well mostly, he said, "So don't tell them you're going to a party. It's not like it's going to be anything crazy, anyway. It's starting at six because Matt needs everyone gone by like ten-thirty, his neighbors will complain about the noise of us all leaving. And he hasn't invited that many people. Just a couple of guys on the football team – not Azimio," he said with feeling, "or any of the jerks. A few kids from his classes and the guys in Glee, that's all. As long as you're home before your curfew they don't even have to know, right?"

"He's invited the Gleeks?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, last night at the dance. I think it's kind of a peace offering for being mean to them the last few weeks."

Rachel couldn't know about it, Quinn realized, or she'd know about it. If Rachel was invited though, her problem was solved. They couldn't go together but at least it wouldn't be totally like she was standing her up.

"He invited everyone in Glee? Even Artie and Tina?"

"Yeah!" He went from smiling to looking awkward, "Except I don't think Rachel is going to be there. He mentioned asking her and Mike kind of said no and nobody else tried to change his mind, so…"

Asshole!

Quinn tried to keep her tone surprised, "Not even you?"

"I know it's not her fault you tried to kiss her or whatever, but I was still kinda pissed at her," he shrugged uncomfortably and took another bite of his burger. "She's used to not being invited to parties though, so I doubt she'll really care."

'Yes she will! She'll be devastated to find out she was the only one not invited and she might put a brave face on it at school, but she'll feel awful. And she'll blame me. Especially if I freaking go!'

"I can't make it tonight, Finn, I'm sorry. Can we do something tomorrow night instead?"

"Why? Do you have plans with someone else?" She made the mistake of hesitating while she thought something up, "Because pretty much everyone you ever hang out with is going to be there tonight already."

She could lie, make someone up, but he'd see right through it after her hesitation. Even if Finn didn't put two and two together, her absence would be noticed along with Rachel's. Santana would jump on making a thing out of it even if it wasn't true, and it was, so…

She had no choice.

"No, I'm not doing anything else. I'll come tonight, but I've been feeling queasy all day. If it gets worse I might go home early. You'll be able to get a ride with Mike though, won't you?"

She could make this work. If the party was starting at six, she could still meet Rachel in plenty of time. She could have over an hour with Finn, where she could be a dutiful girlfriend and be seen out being happy with her boyfriend and after that… Rachel.

"Yeah, no problem, but hopefully you won't start feeling sick."

She smiled, "Hopefully."

"Tonight is going to be awesome!" Finn declared, and his enthusiasm was infectious enough that she grinned, "And after everyone sees us together they'll forget all about what you did."

Quinn kept her grin with effort, "Yeah."

"That is what you want, right?"

That was the first easy question she'd been asked in a while, "Totally!"

Rachel had made a mistake; that mistake being that she'd agreed to have Quinn pick her up straight from class. It meant she had to choose what she was going to wear before her vocal lesson which didn't give her anywhere near enough time!

She'd already sat through a delicious but agonizing lunch playing 'Twenty Questions about Quinn Fabray.' She'd managed to give vague answers for each of them but that had been the hard part! She wasn't cut out for vague answers on any subject and the fact that she wanted to wax lyrical about every little thing to do with Quinn just made it all the more torturous.

She'd survived it, though, and while she hadn't managed to make her parents enamored with Quinn, she hadn't said anything that encouraged them to dislike her, either.

They hadn't openly spoken about their concerns in front of her, merely nodding along with her answers before asking more questions – How long had Quinn been with her boyfriend? Was she planning on keeping the baby? Did her parents know? Had she been to a doctor yet? What had caused the sudden turn around between the two of them? Did Rachel really trust her friendship? How were her grades? And the weirdest of all: But don't you think you're a little young for this kind of responsibility, Baby Girl?

Her Dad had shushed her Daddy at that point. He seemed more than willing to give Quinn a chance, while her Daddy – usually the more easy-going of the two – was apprehensive. Something her Dad seemed to find as surprising as she did.

Rachel frowned, "Too young to be a friend indeed to someone in need?"

"You know I'm not talking about…"

Her Dad cut in, "We're just concerned that Quinn may be feeling lonely right now and is latching on to you because you're the only person who is nice enough to give a damn."

"You think Quinn is only being friends with me because no one else will be her friend?"

"Yes," her Daddy stated emphatically.

"No," her Dad countered. "We're just saying be careful. You give your heart freely, you always have, and that's not a bad thing. Just make sure the people you give it to deserve it."

"Quinn is the most popular girl in school! She's not short of friends. Perhaps her spending time with me is an anomaly, but I prefer to think that that doesn't make our… our acquaintanceship any less valid."

"Of course it doesn't, Sweetpea."

She knew when she was being humored and left the table shortly afterwards.

The conversation stayed in her mind, though, all throughout the time she spent doing her homework, through a thirty minute Pilates routine, and during her subsequent shower. Even her Dads thought Quinn might be using her! Although their reasons for thinking it were a little ambiguous, it was still another seed of doubt.

She pushed it to the back of her mind because she had more important things to worry about. Like what was she going to wear for their date! She had thirty minutes before she had to leave for her vocal class and that was not enough time!

Quinn arranged to pick Finn up at five-thirty. It would give them a little more time together and it shortened the time she was on her own thinking about Rachel.

All good.

Because they had time to kill, she went inside. Carol greeted her with the usual polite detachment. She asked how Quinn had been, Quinn apologized for not being around much recently. It was pleasant enough but not particularly warm.

She couldn't imagine Carol Hudson ever challenging her to an arm-wrestling contest, even as a joke.

She played the good girlfriend… no, not played, was the good girlfriend. She complimented Carol on her new perm and gushed for at least two minutes about how good Finn was in Glee Club – because the way to a mother's heart was always through her son; Frannie had told her once.

Carol seemed receptive to her charms for once – had she never put in this much effort before? – and stood with her in the kitchen while Finn dug through the small hall closet for the sneakers he wanted to wear.

"You know, you probably get this all the time, but I really admire you. I've been to Finn's games, I've seen how hard you cheerleaders must work, yet you always look so neatly put together after your practices; look not a hair out of place," Carol smiled, "I don't know how you do it."

"Oh, we didn't have practice today," registering the woman's confusion, Quinn looked down at her uniform. She'd worn jeans and a fitted t-shirt over to Rachel's and to Breadstix, but she had changed her clothes for the party. It was just a thing that they did; enforced in school and a habit outside of it. They'd worn these uniforms, these second skins, with so much pride throughout Freshman year, it was ridiculous now that it felt like it was made of concrete, restricting her every move.

"It's in the Cheerios regulations," she explained to Carol, and it was true enough to only be a little white lie. "We have to wear our squad uniforms at high school events, even private ones."

"That sounds a little…" the woman grimaced and Quinn nodded.

"It used to be mandatory even in church, but all of the town's priests and pastors took a petition to the school board and Coach Sylvester had to stop," that had happened in Frannie's one and only year at McKinley and Quinn could still remember her daddy's outrage and the arguments he and her sister had had about it.

"She sounds awful."

Quinn couldn't agree more but was too loyal to say so aloud and Finn finally found his sneakers and came back into the kitchen.

"Oh shi-oot!" Finn said urgently, when he saw that the clock read ten-to-the-hour, "We're gonna be late."

"It's okay to turn up five minutes after a party starts, Finn," she said, rolling her eyes affectionately for his Mom's sake, but she was still so, so glad to be getting out of there.

"Just drive safe," she said to Quinn, patting her arm – that was a new one – before she grabbed a hold of Finn's neck and pulled him down to kiss his cheek.

"Mom!" He wriggled away from her but he was grinning.

Quinn found she was grinning too. It was troubling.

"Why must you keep looking down, Rachel?" Mrs. Badger asked again. "You can't reach the full capacity in your chest with your chin tucked in like that!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Badger," she raised her head again, happy that her dress hadn't wrinkled. Yet.

"Okay, let's begin again from… Rachel, lift your head up!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Badger!"

The party actually wasn't bad; in fact calling it a party was a bit of a misnomer because it felt more like the teenage version of one of her Mom's afternoon tea parties.

Despite his friendship with her boyfriend, Quinn didn't know Matt that well so this was the first time she'd been in his play room. To her, the name conjured images of soft-play equipment and a bunch of toddlers running wild, but the truth was far from that. There was a semi-circle of low couches around a very decently sized television that took up one half of the room and the other half was given up to a ping-pong table at one end and a DJ station – the cool kind with twin decks – at the other. There was also what appeared to be a microphone attached to it and a video recorder. She hadn't even know Matt was into this stuff… and as soon as she thought it she realized how stupid it was. She didn't know anything that Matt was interested in outside of Glee club and football.

"Don't let Rachel see this," she said without thinking. "She'll want to start recording her Myspace videos in here."

"Good advice," Matt grinned and then droned on for five minutes about his superhero figurines. Quinn would have been more interested in the records on the shelf below, but was too polite to say so. After all, for all she knew, maybe most girl's loved hearing about his Marvel toys. Finn joined in enough for the both of them anyway and it wasn't long before Matt remembered his manners and offered her a drink.

There were cans of beer available but most people were drinking soda or water – pretty much anyone who had accidentally drunk the spiked punch last night was drinking soda or water – Kurt had even procured himself hot tea, complete with china cup. Quinn took a water and vowed to enjoy herself for the next hour. These were her friends; it shouldn't be that hard.

The music was loud enough that you had to raise your voice a little if the person you were talking to wasn't sitting right next to you, but it wasn't overbearing. A few people were sitting on the couches eating. Matt had even prepared hors d'oeuvre to go with the stack of pizzas he'd ordered.

Santana and Brittany were a splash of color on the designated dancefloor between the ping-pong table and the decks. They were in uniform too, unsurprisingly, marking them as the only three Cheerios in the room. Quinn wondered if Santana ever felt the weight of it these days too. Was that why she could such a bitch sometimes? She hadn't been so prickly when they'd first met, in middle school. While never as sweet and laid-back as Brittany, McKinley had made a good job of sharpening any edges that were already there.

They hadn't spoken yet tonight, hadn't spoken since last night actually, and it left Quinn off-kilter. Especially at times like this. She should be dancing with them, but even though Brittany had caught her wrist while Quinn was hearing about superheroes, she hadn't felt welcome enough to join in.

The same couldn't be said for Mike as soon as he finished eating. Quinn watched the three of them move to the beat of whatever record was playing – Quinn didn't know, it sounded like something that would be played at a rave! – and sat alone on the loveseat with a slice of pepperoni pizza and a solo cup of water.

That was how the first twenty minutes of the party went for her, but then it turned on a dime.

The rest of the boys were playing Wii Mario and Sonic Winter Olympics on the 50" television and the other girls had split into two distinct groups. Tina, Mercedes and Kurt in one and all the rest in another. And both seemed to be gossiping about the other.

Well, three groups actually because Quinn was now playing with the boys.

She hadn't intended to. She'd been perfectly happy sitting alone in the corner, eating a second slice of pizza and discreetly checking her watch every few minutes, but Finn had had other ideas, dragging her up beside him when it was his turn to play virtual Ice Hockey. It was all part of the united front he wanted to project, she guessed, and she had to agree it couldn't hurt.

He lost the game, which was hardly a surprise – all she seemed to bring him these days was bad luck – and handed the controller over to her. She hadn't had to give it up since.

They were skiing right now and Quinn was beating every guy who stepped up to face her, which wasn't surprising – she was probably the only one of them who'd even seen a real pair of skis.

She was still keeping a very close eye on the time, because this was just filler; her real evening's entertainment wouldn't begin until she picked up Rachel. That's when she would really start to enjoy her Saturday night. She still didn't know where they were going to go, because there wasn't anywhere they could go in Lima without risk and she didn't really know anywhere outside of Lima.

Next time, she'd do some research first. Google the nightlife in the surrounding towns and plan it all properly but she didn't just want to drive some-place else tonight in the hopes that they'd find something good to do by chance. They'd probably end up spending the entire date in the car if they did…

Hmm.

Interesting.

"Are you okay?"

She blinked up at Finn, smiling brightly, "I am actually. Why?"

He pointed to the television screen, "You're upside down in a snow drift."

She laughed, "There was a rock under the snow. Obstruction. Rematch."

"They don't have rocks under the snow," Puck said through gritted teeth, swishing his way to victory now that Quinn was incapacitated.

"There was a rock. Under. The. Snow!" she told him slowly. "Stop cheating and restart the race."

"No way!"

Despite the obvious, Quinn still held enough power – suspected lesbian or not – to glare the others into submission. She beat a grumbling Puck by a cool fifteen seconds their second time down the slope.

"Eat my snow, Loser," she grinned at him, before calling out. "Okay, who wants me to ski right through them next? Oh come on," she added when no one volunteered. "Doesn't anyone dare challenge me for my title?"

Mike finally left the makeshift dancefloor and stepped up, "My family goes skiing in Vail every year."

Quinn looked him up and down, careful not to show her surprise, and then nodded at the equipment Puck was still holding, "Come on then, let's see if you can take this away from me any easier."

It was a stupid comment to make but, damn it, it was Chang and he just riled her. Nobody else seemed to get it though, thankfully. Okay, maybe Mike did because his eyebrows got lost in his bangs and he grinned like he couldn't believe she was real as he took the Wii (ski) stick from Puck's hands.

Mike selected the hardest, longest course but Quinn didn't quail, she just readied herself to go.

And then it was on!

Within seconds, everyone was drawn over by the shouting as they raced down the black diamond run at what would have been a suicidal speed if it had been real. They cut each other off on bends, swerved dangerously to try and send the other into cliff-faces and snowbanks, and were both completely ignoring the concept of fair-play and yet they remained almost side by side. Mike was smoother on the turns, his hips twisting more precisely thanks to his dancers grace but Quinn knew exactly which risks to take, allowing herself to slide too far left into deeper snow because the payoff was a jump that cut off seconds of track.

Sensing this wasn't just a friendly game, the other kids crowded closer to them, feeding on their energy. Matt and Santana were cheering for Mike, Finn and Brittany were cheering for Quinn, and everyone else was just generally cheering. Puck clapped Mike on the back in encouragement and received an elbow in the stomach as it hampered the boy's movements. Likewise, Patti Alexander (she was Santana's lab partner for Chemistry, but Quinn had no idea how she knew Matt) found herself face-planting Finn's chest when she came between Quinn and the big screen for a second.

She could do this, she could so do this! Mike was good but she was better. In so many ways. It had to be true; it had the Rachel Berry stamp of approval.

She went wide and bent her knees for the last jump, leaning forward in the hopes that it would make her fly faster through the pixilated air, and then twisted her hips to the right so that she wouldn't overshoot the final bend as she landed. That should have seen her ahead and with so little of the race to go, it should have been enough, but Mike had followedher path this time, jumping so close behind her their bodies merged in a clash of red and blue until the console could sort out who was who.

They crossed the checkered flag side by side and, dropping the tiny plastic poles, Quinn stepped closer to the TV to see the result. Again they were side by side.

"What? No way!" Quinn snapped, dismayed to see that they both had the exact same time down to the last point whatever of a second.

"Looks like I'm still in the game after all," Mike murmured.

Quinn turned to glare at him, his point not lost on her. She was about to say something cutting – and probably foolish – back but amid the calls for a rematch, her eye caught the clock on the wall behind him.

It was seven-twenty and it would take at least ten minutes to get to the Lima Community Arts Centre from here.

And she still had to extricate herself. Her plan had been to fake sickness around six-thirty so that when she finally left at seven-fifteen it would look to Finn like she'd at least tried to ignore it.

She'd forgotten to do that.

So what was her new plan?

"I've played enough," she started with to calm the requests that she race Mike again, "I don't want to hog the game all night."

"But you can't just leave it as a draw, not after that!" Artie said, waving his arms in an effort to describe how epic their race had been.

"No seriously. I've had enough for one night," she put her hand on her stomach. Not everyone there was in the know about her pregnancy so she didn't elaborate, hoping the gesture would be enough.

It was for Finn, "Hey, why don't you sit down? I'll get you a bottle of water."

The last thing she wanted to do was sit down but he was already shepherding her towards the couch. She ducked away from his well-meaning hands before her butt landed on a cushion but snuck an arm around his waist as she leaned in to talk softly.

"Actually, that pizza was so good I think I ate too much of it and it's… not sitting so well."

"Oh," he kind of half-frowned, half-smiled at her as he nodded his understanding.

She hadn't been speaking softly enough, apparently, and Kurt had been standing extremely close to Finn.

"You're not feeling well, Quinn?" He didn't keep his voice down at all. "You seemed fine a minute ago."

She glared and mouthed 'its morning sickness, you moron!' as in Shut Up! and he did look mildly sorry as he gave her an apologetic grimace, but the damage had been done.

"Are you trying to claim you didn't beat Mike because you were sick?" Matt teased with a smile.

"Do you need to lie down?" Brittany said, coming over to feel her forehead in concern. "You don't have fever-head."

"You look fine," Mercedes said.

"Well I'm not," she snapped. "I think I should go."

"You are fine! I've seen you puke enough times to know when you're about to." Oh great, she and Santana were talking again. "Got somewhere better to be, Q? Like a hot date? Going bowling again maybe?"

"Of course not. I just drank too much of that punch last night and I've been feeling off all day. Not that it's any of your business what I do."

"It's kinda mine though, right?" Finn said.

"Dude, let her go if she's not feeling well."

She eyed Puck warily, grateful for his support but leery of his intentions. Did he genuinely believe she was feeling sick, or did he believe Santana and was hoping it would lead to more gay-panic that he could help her with down the line?

Either way, the clock on the wall now read seven-twenty-five. She could put her foot down and run every red light and she was still going to be late. With every eye on her, she thought about forgetting the date, sneaking Finn's phone from his pocket and excusing herself to the bathroom instead of leaving. She could call Rachel and explain the situation. They could always do something tomorrow afternoon instead.

But, she wanted to see Rachel. If she stayed, she'd just feel awkward and uncomfortable and disappointed the entire night so what was the point?

"Thanks, Matt, I've had fun but I really just want to go home to bed," she turned a cool look on Mike, "If you want a re-match? I'll be all over it." He knew exactly what she was talking about; he may have even gotten the double-entendre because he frowned. "Brit, Santana, see you Monday. Finn, come outside with me?" She took his hand, giving him little choice unless he wanted to cause a scene.

At the end of the long, sloping driveway she leaned back against her car and pulled Finn closer to her as she levelled with him, well sort of.

"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling sick, I just felt really uncomfortable in there."

"Why?"

Quinn shrugged, "Because of the stupid thing I did last night. I tried to ignore it but you saw the way none of the girls would even talk to me. Even Santana is nervous of me." That was a complete falsehood but it explained Santana's hostile attitude more safely than the truth would. "And Mike hates me because he likes Rachel. I don't blame him but…" she reached up a hand to smooth over the small white buttons of his jersey, "It's going to take a while before everyone realizes I'm not actually into Rachel and I just can't handle it any more tonight."

He bought it, "Do you want me to leave with you? We could just watch a movie at my place."

"No, you need to stay and have fun. I really do just want to go to bed and block everything out for a while."

"Okay," he said gently, giving her a small smile, "Do you want to do something tomorrow?"

She nodded, "Call me after church."

It had to be getting on for seven-forty now or more. How long would Rachel wait before she thought she'd been stood up?

There was one more thing she had to do before she left though, "Kiss me goodnight?"

Finn grinned and didn't need to be asked twice. Through her half closed eyes she saw a triangle of soft orange light up the driveway as someone inside tweaked the curtains to spy on them. It could have been Santana or Puck or even Mike, but she didn't care who. Anyone seeing them was good enough; not another fetish, just damage control.

When his tongue swept into her mouth, she pulled back; it felt surprisingly alien after the kisses she'd shared with Rachel. At his questioning look, she utilized their peeper.

"We're being watched," she nodded her head towards the house. "And I'm not looking to give a free show."

"You never know, it might be a good thing," he grinned and did something adorable with his eyebrows.

She playfully slapped his arm, "I'm going now."

Giving him one last peck she slipped into her car. He gave her a wave as she started the engine but didn't hang around to see her go.

Only focused on how late she was, she threw the car in to reverse and shot back out onto the street. Her heart nearly stopped at the loud, irate honk of a horn behind her. Heart hammering, she watched as the pissed off driver swerved around her. Rachel definitely looked cuter flipping her the bird than that guy did.

She took a deep, calming breath and pulled her seatbelt on.

Rachel.

She hit the gas again.