Sorry for the long wait. Summer term is always mad and then there were holidays - yep, plural :)
Chapter Twenty-five – Conflicts with Silver Linings
Will opened his lunch box to grab a sandwich. Terri had cut the crusts off today. Evidence of the sweeter side of her raging pregnancy hormones and one he didn't mind so much.
He took a bite, swallowed and then continued his conversation with Emma. "It's just such a difficult situation. I think Rachel's probably having the hardest time from it, and I feel bad for Finn obviously, but its Quinn I feel most sorry for. She's the one who doesn't even have the option to walk away."
"It can't be good for her, what with the baby and everything."
"Exactly. And I know she's still reeling from having everyone finding out and I just think she needs . . . closure on the Rachel thing."
"How do you know their split wasn't amicable?" Emma asked as she popped a grape – cleaned to within an inch of its life – between her lips. "Did one of them speak to you about it?"
"No. And I know it's not really any of my business, but this is the kind of thing that could tear the group apart. It almost has once already. And you should feel the tension in the room, Emma, there's no way it was amicable. I get the feeling they didn't even part by choice; the circumstances pushed them to."
"Well, that's understandable, Quinn is pregnant with Finn's baby. Those are some pretty big circumstances to overcome."
"I know."
Will took another bite of his sandwich as he thought about it. He'd been thinking about it a lot actually, ever since the drama had first been brought to his attention and more so since Rachel had told him – fiercely but with the threat of tears in her eyes – that their 'friendship' was over. He couldn't help feeling like he should have done more to help them. He'd never struggled with his sexuality, or his popularity for that matter, but he could still imagine how hard it must be for the two of them trying to reconcile their attraction for one another with the fact that they were at opposite poles in terms of status. Without even including all of the other dramas that they, Quinn especially, were going through.
"I just wish I could get them talking about it, or talking at all would be good."
"Well, that seems like something that could be resolved through song perhaps," she gave him a knowing smile. "I'm sure you could come up with the perfect assignment."
He sighed, "I don't know, Sectionals is only just a month away. I can't afford to have them distracted from that."
"What's worse? A week of distraction or a Glee club that doesn't make it through another week?"
Glee club arrived.
Rachel was sitting beside Tina on the bottom row and they were speaking animatedly to each other, like friends. Quinn felt the same level of pride that she may have had something to do with that as the level of jealousy that was flaring through her.
Santana and Brittany were seated at the other end of the middle row, more or less surrounded by Mike and Matt but they'd saved a chair for her. She stared at it while she came to a decision and then pretended that she hadn't noticed. That wasn't the decision though. She picked a seat at the front and then pulled her boyfriend down next to her. Finn immediately turned to join in the conversation about Santana's annual Thanksgiving party, leaving Quinn to sit awkwardly and wait for Rachel to notice that she was only one empty chair away.
It burned that she was so caught up in her little chat with Tina that she didn't notice right away. In fact she didn't notice until Puck sauntered in with a "Sorry I'm late; Jewfro was being difficult about getting in the dumpster." and fell into the seat between them.
"Noah, you really should stop such behavior . . ."
"They need it, Berry. It keeps their world's turning."
"Yes, well, with all the time you spend around dumpsters you have started to smell like one yourself, so please move."
"No way. This is good honest man-sweat, it's hard work tossing some of those fat kids in. If its turning you on too much Berry, you move."
"Eww!" Rachel's nose wrinkled in disgust and she turned back to complain about him to Tina.
Puck noticed he was getting daggers from the other side, "What's your problem, Fabray?"
'I hate you and everything you stand for, asshole!'
"You stink." He didn't; he smelled as he always did, but it gave her the perfect excuse to move to the other side of Finn, where she tried to finally join in the talk behind her instead of pouting like an irritable baby.
"Alright!" Mr. Schuester came out of his office clapping his hands together. "This week's assignment is going to be a little different."
He went to the whiteboard and scrawled 'CONFLICT RESOLUTION' across it.
"What does that mean?" Brittany asked.
"Are we going to make videos for the troops overseas?" Rachel asked excitedly. "Some Like It Hot is one of my Daddy's favourite movies and I've been known to pull off a very breathy version of I Wanna Be Loved By You . . ."
"And I'm sure your Daddy just loves that," Santana drawled.
"No, Rachel, that's not what we're doing," Mr. Schue held his hands up to calm her down.
"Although I like your spirit. No, the conflict I'm talking about is a little closer to home. In this room in fact. We've been a team for a couple of months now but we're still not really . . ." he clasped his hands together ". . .there, you know? And the last few weeks have only shown how dangerous those cracks in our foundation can be. So, we're going to resolve them, this week."
Quinn figured she probably looked about as infected by his enthusiasm as everyone else.
Undeterred he clapped his hands together again. "So I'm going to put you in pairs and you're going to find a song or songs that talks about the conflict between you. You can either look at this as a duet or individual solos but they have to be agreed upon by both of you and express some kind of resolution to your differences."
"So we have to pick someone in here we don't like and then sing about it?" Mercedes asked. "That seems kinda bitchy, Mr. Schue."
"At least I have a lot of choices," Santana said airily making Quinn smirk.
"What if the other person refuses to admit we have a problem?" Puck asked, and Quinn's smirk disappeared when she saw he was glancing at her.
"Easy. I've picked out the pairings for you." Mr. Schuester held up a list. "Puck, you're with Finn."
Finn sat up straighter in his chair even as Quinn sank lower in hers. "But we don't have any problems."
"You two got into a fist fight in the halls last week. I'm glad your both mature enough to have already put it behind you but let's just make sure it stays that way, okay?"
"Santana you're with Mike. I've noticed some tension between the two of you this past week, let's nip it in the bud."
Surprised by the coupling, Quinn turned around in her seat to ask what was going on and saw Mike's fingers loosely curled around Brittany's and Santana's knuckles pale from their grip on the sides of her chair. Okay, that explained that.
"Tina and Artie . . ."
"What? Those two are like best friends," Mercedes laughed.
"I thought they were screwing," Puck said.
"We were until Tina lied to me." Artie crossed his arms in a huff. "Uh, best friends, not screwing."
Tina looked distraught and Rachel put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she was okay. Quinn grit her teeth and looked back to Mr. Schue.
"Mercedes and Kurt . . ."
Now Mercedes and Kurt both started chuckling.
"We have no conflict," Kurt promised.
"Mercedes threw a brick through your car window last month, Kurt!"
"And I already sang about it, and apologised. Conflict resolved."
"Then this assignment will be harder for the two of you, but I'm sure you'll both rise to the occasion. Now, Rachel and Quinn . . ."
Damn, she should have seen that coming. "I am not working with her."
"Quinn doesn't want to work with me."
"Our conflict isn't going to be resolved by singing a song."
"Our musical tastes are vastly different. It's too much conflict for one person to overcome!"
"I don't think it's fair for me to have to work with her one-on-one."
"She'll kill me if we're forced to be alone together, Mr. Schue!"
"If we have to do this, we're doing it at a distance, over the phone!"
"I imagine that would be the only way to determine my safety so I concur."
"Well, don't just sit there then, Berry, give me your number so we can get it over with!"
"Oh, right." Rachel took her phone from her pocket and pulled up her number before hesitating. "How do I know you're not going to use it for nefarious purposes?"
"You don't, but you should know that you're not worth the time and effort."
As Rachel's phone passed from Puck to Finn and then into Quinn's shaking hands, Mr. Schuester continued with the final pairing on his list.
"And Brittany, Matt I'm afraid you both drew the short straw on account of being the only two in the room who don't have a problem with anyone."
Brittany grinned at Matt. "That's okay, Mr. Schue, we can make something up.".
Quinn stabbed Rachel's number into her phone looking as pissed off as she knew how to be, but on the inside . . .
'I finally have Rachel's number and no one can question me if they find it on my phone! This assignment is awesome!'
She still saved it under RuPaul though, just to be on the safe side.
"So you should get into your pairs for the remainder of the session and start brainstorming."
Her cell-phone was forcibly put back into her hand as Quinn took the chair that Noah had just reluctantly vacated. Rachel felt that frisson of excitement at the nearness of her, but she still wasn't happy with this assignment. How were they supposed to resolve their conflict in front of everyone else? To illustrate her concerns Quinn twisted away from her and tucked her crossed ankles comfortably beneath her seat. Drawing a thick, hard-backed book from her bag and without so much as a glance or a growl in Rachel's direction she opened it to her bookmark and began to read.
"So this looks like it's going to be fun, huh?" she murmured. "A week of having to actively ignore each other in front of the rest of the group. Maybe us being friends isn't meant to be after all."
The side-eye of sympathy and understanding she'd been hoping for never came. "Throwing in the towel already, Gnome?" Why was Quinn smirking? Was she pleased about that? "And there was me thinking this was the first positive step we'd managed."
"That doesn't make sense. You won't even face me in front of the others and who even knows what song we should sing to fulfil the terms of the assignment."
"Relax, sweetie, I'm sure it won't be that hard for us to find a song about being into someone that thinks that you're a loser."
"What?" Had her contribution already been decided, without as much as a conversation about it? Because that seemed highly rude, now that they were friends.
A high-pitched double tone emitted from her cell-phone and Rachel looked down at it in bewilderment. It never did that within active school hours, at least it wasn't supposed to. Her parents knew better than to disrupt her study mode and/or risk her superb (if slightly tarnished now thanks to certain events that had transpired this semester) record of good behaviour.
Finn had unthinkingly texted her a few times at the beginning of their friendship, but while she had promised him that she appreciated the gesture, she had made sure that he knew that that kind of thing in school just wasn't acceptable to someone with her high standards. She still remembered him muttering something along the lines of 'Why do I always pick the girls with crazy standards. First no making out; now I can't even text?' It had confused her, because she had assumed both statements were directed at her and at that point she hadn't been against Finn kissing her again. It was only later she realised that it must have been Quinn to whom he was referring, but the important thing was that he hadn't broken the rule of sending her messages in lessons or Glee club since.
Unfortunately that could mean only one thing: one of her dads or a close family member or friend had been taken seriously ill or had been in some kind of terrible accident. There was no other explanation, only the hospital or her Nana would think it okay to disturb her during her school day and that wasn't her Nana's number on the screen!
All of that flashed across her panicking mind in the time it took her to scoop her cell-phone closer to her face and press the button that enabled her to read the heart-stopping message.
'Why the face?'
What the . . . She stared at the small screen waiting for the letters to rearrange themselves into something more sensical, but it wasn't to be. Her phone beeped again and a second message from the unknown number appeared beneath.
'Yes that was from me. And put your phone on silent, Dumbass!'
Quinn? Rachel looked up to see the secret smile on her new friend's face and rolled her eyes. Of course. Her cell phone hadn't recognised the number because it had never encountered it before today. Context now in place, her jaw clenched in annoyance and she barely even looked around before breaking one of the school's cardinal rules and texted back.
'The face I assume you are referring to is for the blatant disregard that you are showing me with this assignment. Obviously, of course, I will choose a song in accordance with the nature of our charade, but for you to just EXPECT me to sing such a song is insulting.'
After hitting send, Rachel sat proudly upright, facing away from Quinn. Until, that is, she heard a whisper of:
"I was actually talking about the song I would need to sing."
"You were not!"
"Shush, and yes I was! Or have you forgotten why you broke up with me?"
"That's not why!"
"As good as!"
"Guys." With the sound of Mr. Schuester's voice right behind her shoulder, Rachel's cell phone slipped guiltily out of her hand towards the hard floor and she didn't dare to try and catch it in front of him. Quinn didn't have the same reservations and quickly leant forward to snatch it neatly from its fall. "I know this is probably hard for the two of you, but you have to at least try."
Quinn handed back Rachel's phone - again - and closed her book to hide her own. "Why exactly?"
"For the good of the group! Rachel, you don't want to see us fail, do you? That means we have to put our differences behind us. All of them."
Quinn locked eyes with her and she seemed to be asking a question but Rachel didn't trust what she thought it was, and then Quinn raised her gaze to the teacher and dropped her voice to a sexy, husky pitch.
"Rachel and I are fine, Mr. Schue. Aren't we, baby?" Rachel's eyes bugged out of their sockets. "We're not going to give the New Directions any problems, but we do appreciate you giving us this opportunity to spend so much time together. Now, if you could just advise us on what song you think we should sing to, you know, completely call attention to the secret affair that we're having, that would be even more helpful."
"I . . . Oh. Guys, I'm sorry. I was just trying to-" he laughed awkwardly "-help? I didn't mean to put you on the spot. But you know, maybe this could still help. Secrets like . . . yours, they tend to reveal themselves and people get hurt. You both could get hurt. So maybe the reason it is a secret could be your starting point. What do you think?"
Hmm, interesting . . . but Quinn was rolling her eyes at his over-earnest attempt to dig himself out of the hole and so she rolled hers too. "She's joking, Mr. Schuester. We are not having an affair. Although she is right about you putting us in quite a difficult position. We've been trying to shake these rumours for weeks and now you've brought them back into the spotlight."
He didn't look happy to have been fooled but before he could reprimand them or suggest that the rumours or Quinn's twisted sense of humour was obviously, then, the crux of their conflict, Quinn stood up, shouting, "For crying out loud! If I don't want to work with her I won't!" before grabbing her bag and storming from the room.
Mr. Schuester turned from staring after Quinn - with most of the rest of the room - to looking apologetically back down at Rachel.
She gave him a bright smile. "It's okay; she does that a lot."
"And it doesn't bother you?"
"Not as much as you'd think." One, two, three . . . she stood up and turned on him. "I can't believe you'd force me into that situation! Do you hate me that much?"
"No, Rachel, I . . ."
She gave him a big wink, blurring her vision even further with tears, and then raced from the room a sobbing and clearly heart-broken mess.
Quinn sent a text as she walked across the parking lot.
'I'm gonna wait in my car. Try and leave a few minutes before everyone else.'
'Already on my way. x'
Having Rachel's number was awesome.
She waited in the driver's seat and sure enough a minute later Rachel was pulling open the passenger door. She'd been crying, it was obvious even though she tried to wipe the evidence away as she slid into the seat and closed the door behind her.
"What happened? Did someone say something after I left? Was Mr. Schue an ass?"
Rachel laughed as she rubbed the remnants of tears from her cheeks with her sweater sleeve. "I would have thought you'd have realized by now that I can cry on command."
Quinn looked over at her as she started the ignition, slightly astonished, although it made sense of some things. "That's what you did Saturday morning?"
"Yes. It's ideal for getting out of tricky situations."
"That's one scary skill." Quinn grinned at her as she pulled out of the parking lot. "So . . . I don't have to be home until seven."
Rachel read between the lines and said, "My house then?"
Rachel chose a different CD from the stack in the glove compartment and was content flicking through the tracks – only listening to a minute of each one – and while it was annoying the drive was short enough that Quinn didn't bother saying anything.
There were no other cars present when she pulled into the driveway but she felt the need to ask anyway, "Are either of your dad's home?"
"No, Daddy doesn't finish work until six tonight and, oh, I should probably let my Dad know that I don't need picking up from Glee club."
Quinn rolled her eyes as she cut the engine and stepped out of the car, "Yeah, you should probably do that."
Rachel was already on the phone by the time she made it around to the passenger side and so she opened the door for her.
"I simply had a difference of opinion with Mr. Scheuster . . . yes again," Rachel was saying as she climbed out. "And because I was upset Quinn offered to drive me straight home. I said she could have dinner with us as a thank you. That's okay, isn't it Dad?"
Quinn shook her head, partly because she wasn't comfortable with Rachel putting her dad on the spot like that on her behalf. Parents didn't like that kind of thing but Rachel was obviously still too new to the having friends over thing to have learnt that yet. Partly because she couldn't eat here anyway. "There's no need. My mom is cooking."
Rachel waved her away and then stuck that hand into her bag to find her keys as she walked to the front door. When it turned into a two hand job she tried to hold the phone between her ear and shoulder but it slipped away from her. Deftly catching it before it could hit the ground - it was becoming a habit - Quinn held it to Rachel's ear for her.
"Okay, Dad. See you in an hour."
Rachel pulled her head away from the phone and marched on with her keys in hand, leaving Quinn to cancel the call and follow after her.
"I can't eat with you tonight; my mom is making dinner," she said as they entered the empty house.
"So call her in a little while and tell her you have already eaten."
"It doesn't work like that."
"Why? Has she cooked it already? You're not even going home until seven."
"I know but . . . I just can't, they won't like it. Another time?"
"You've said that before."
"And I meant it before, just like I mean it now." Wanting to change the subject before Rachel could argue it further, she said, "So your dad won't be home for an hour?"
"Yes. Perhaps even an hour and half." Rachel spun on her heel, grinning now, and Quinn had to come to a dead stop so that she didn't walk into her. "Why? What non-parental guidance activity did you have in mind for us?"
God, it was just oh so, so, so tempting to make this something it shouldn't be. However, her self-control might not be what it once was but she still had some of it.
"I have in mind watching a movie but it's not hard to see what you have in mind. Maybe I should just say goodbye now."
"Nonsense. We're just friends, Quinn. You go up to my room and I'll get us some drinks."
As Quinn made her way to Rachel's bedroom she was both thankful and disappointed that the other girl wasn't trying to push things. It was for the best though. She received a text message just as she'd settled on the edge of the bed, and she smiled, assuming it was from Rachel downstairs.
So the guilt came instantly when her smile dropped on discovering the text was from Finn.
Sry. I didn't see u go. Is everything ok?
How had he not seen her go? Everyone else's eyes had watched her leave, she'd made sure of it with her yelling. A dark part of her wanted to ask if he'd noticed Rachel leaving, but Quinn wasn't supposed to know that she had.
She sent back,
I'm fine now! Your concern would have been more appreciated thirty minutes ago.
It was harsh, even more so because it was a lie, but he just made her so frustrated sometimes. How was she supposed to love him when he was so oblivious to her needs?
Like your need to be alone with Rachel? I'd say he was pretty good at that.
'Maybe if he wasn't I wouldn't need to be alone with Rachel.'
I call oxen-poop.
'I call an end to this prayer session.'
You have to choose, Lucy, you're not being fair to anyone.
'Rachel and I are just friends now!'
Speak of the devil, or the temptress at least, Rachel came through the door, two bottles of flavoured water in one hand and a bowl of chips in the other. "What did I miss, Snuggle-bunny?"
Quinn started laughing. "What was that?"
Rachel gave a cute little apologetic smile, "Sorry, still trying for that pet name. I'm going to assume that was another miss."
Still laughing, she took the bowl of chips from her and then pulled her down beside her on the bed. "Come here, Gnome."
Oh, yeah, you're definitely just friends.
'We're just sitting down!'
For now.
"Amen!" she said firmly, leaving no doubt that her prayer was over.
"And what was that?" Rachel turned the question back on her, teasing. "Don't tell me just being in my room is enough to make you feel the need to pray, Quinn Fabray?"
As apparently it was, she didn't answer the question, instead pushing at Rachel's back to get her up again. "Why don't you pick a movie while I go and get a face cloth."
"Why would you need a face cloth?" Rachel asked, but bounced off of the bed and went to look through her stack of DVDs.
"Duh, for your face."
Rachel turned with a look that let her know she didn't appreciate the sarcasm, Quinn returned a look of . . . well, whatever the look was called when you stuck your tongue out. Rachel rolled her eyes with mock disapproval and Quinn . . . realized this could go on all day if she let it.
"You do your job and I'll do mine, Berry."
In the ensuite she wet a wash cloth with warm water and wrung it out so it was damp but not dripping. Back in the room she collected her make-up from her book bag and went to sit back on the bed just as Rachel pushed a disc into the DVD player. With the combo remote in hand she joined Quinn on the bed, scooting back until her back met her plumped up pillows.
Quinn joined her at the far end but settled on her hip, resting an elbow on the pillow under her arm and facing Rachel. "What are we watching?"
"I'm going to be watching West Side Story, partly because it deals with a lot of teenage conflict and so is appropriate for the assignment, and partly because it is one of my favorite musicals. I'm sure you'll agree after you've seen it that I was born to play Maria. You, on the other hand, appear to be watching me." She cut her eyes to Quinn's for a moment before looking back at the DVD menu on the screen and pressing play. "I don't mind, I suppose I need to get used to the adoring stares of my fans, but do you have a particular reason?"
"What makes you think it has anything to do with adoration?" Quinn poked her in the side, making Rachel squirm away. "I'm just looking at the mess you made with all that fake crying."
"You're not going to convince me I look like a panda and have mascara or eyeliner running down my cheeks, because I wasn't wearing any."
"No, but you shouldn't leave all that salt on your face, it'll dry your skin out and ruin your complexion."
"There happens to be nothing wrong with my . . ."
"Berry, just shut up and let me do what I want." She enforced the message with the face cloth, effectively gagging Rachel as she used her whole hand to rub it over her face. "You know life is so much simpler that way."
Rachel spluttered out sounds as Quinn wiped every inch of her face and then pulled back, using just one cloth covered finger to pay extra attention to the invisible tracks of her tears.
"Is this you practicing for Motherhood?" Rachel gasped out when she could breathe without sucking face-flannel at the same time. "Are you going to hold a tissue to my nose next and demand I blow?"
Quinn chuckled as she set the cloth on the night-stand. "No, this is me giving you my nightly facial – well, a very condensed version of it anyway."
"Why?"
"Because it's what friends do when they hang out."
And that might not be entirely true, she didn't really know. Santana had taught her a few cool blusher and eye-shadow tricks that she hadn't picked up on her own but she'd never washed her face for her. The important thing was, Rachel wouldn't know and by the eager light in brown eyes that darted from the gang warfare on the screen to Quinn's neutral expression, she was going to lap up anything she said as long as she tacked that tag line to it.
Really she just needed to be doing something, anything, to keep busy, so that she didn't dwell on the fact that they were laying on Rachel's bed, watching Rachel's favorite kind of romance film, in a parent-less house. It wasn't even about whether or not she could control herself, of course she could, she just didn't want to have to keep thinking about how hard she was having to work to do so.
Even sitting side by side like this was making her brain hurt: Where should she sit? How close was too close? How should she sit? Bolt upright and formal, respectful of being in Rachel's personal space? Or was it okay to lounge back against the pillows like Rachel currently was? What should she do with her arms? If she let them fall beside her would it falsely indicate that she wanted to hold hands? Did friends hold hands while they watched movies? If she kept them clasped in her lap would Rachel assume she wasn't open to the option of hand-holding? And that was before she even got into the whole 'Is it okay for friends to cuddle during a movie? And if so is there some kind of protocol or time-line to follow which forms the boundary between friendship and something more?'
And so she was distracting herself . . . by leaning over Rachel and intimately washing her face? Whatever. It was focusing on something ritual and harmless that mattered and this fit the bill for now.
"Or at least, they give each other make-overs, but you hardly ever wear make-up and I think you'd break friends with me if I tried to throw out your argyle and introduce anything with actual style into your closet."
Rachel's head tilted to her again, eyes large and playful. "I did have one stylish thing in my closet until recently."
"What?"
She held her breath, nervous and excited, when Rachel suddenly started leaning up and over to her side of the bed – which because of the way she was sitting, was mere inches from the other side of the bed – but Rachel only wanted to be close enough to whisper in her ear.
"You."
"Funny." Pushing Rachel back into her place, Quinn ducked her head to the make-up bag she had between them to hide the redness of her cheeks.
It might be an idea to implement a three strike rule for spending time together. Three inappropriate or in-platonic incidents on any given friend-date and they called it a day and went their separate ways to regroup and cool down ready for the next attempt.
It probably was a really good idea, but knowing they'd almost certainly never get to spend more than half an hour in each others company kept Quinn from voicing it out loud.
"So what comes next?"
She carefully unscrewed the lid on the small jar she was cradling in her hand. "Moisturiser. And I'm going to put it on for you because it's really expensive and you'll probably slather it on like a face mask." She dipped her index finger in the white cream, gathering the smallest amount on the tip.
Rachel grinned, "How expensive?"
"I don't know exactly but we're talking three digits. My parents have bought me a jar for Christmas every year since . . . well, since I've been old enough to appreciate it." The year of her transition from Lucy to Quinn. "It has like avocados and seaweed and orchids in it, I think it even has some gold," she mused, squinting at the tiny writing on the glass.
"For hundreds of dollars I should hope so." Rachel put a hand up, keeping her fingertip at bay. "You can't waste that on my face, Quinn."
"It's not a waste! And a little goes a long way. Now put your arm down before I make you eat it instead."
Still dubious, Rachel did lower her arm to the bed between them and Quinn settled the jar on her thigh so that she could push silky dark hair out of the way. She started rubbing it in using small, firm circles, careful not to miss any skin. It was when she looked back from collecting another dab of cream that she noticed Rachel's attention was no longer on the screen. She met her eyes for a second before dragging them away and going back to her task.
"Why don't you?"
"Why don't I what?"
"Wear makeup that often? Not that you need to," she hastened to add. "But every other girl I know has been plastering it on since before puberty. Is it just because you never had a Mom around to teach you?"
Rachel chuckled softly, "If you'd ever seen one of my Dad's infamous drag acts you'd know that's certainly not the case. He's actually been mistaken for my mother at more than one Pride Parade."
"Your Dad? Hiram?" She didn't mean to sound so shocked, it was probably insulting or something, but while the guy had features very similar to Rachel's, he also really looked like a guy.
"Yes, he actually hardly ever wears drag now because it's too authentic when he does. My Daddy always complains that while he doesn't mind dating a Queen he draws the line at dating a Woman."
Quinn barked a laugh and then guiltily covered her mouth, dabbing cream above her upper lip. "Sorry, its just a whole new world."
Smiling, Rachel reached up and delicately smoothed the cream into her skin. "I know. It's okay if it freaks you out too. I grew up with this but I understand that it's all District 9 to you right now."
"I'm not sure if it ever won't be?" she admitted, averting her eyes by starting on the right side of Rachel's face, gently circling her fingers over her cheekbones.
"I wish Kurt would be my friend."
Quinn's finger paused. "Random segue much?" It came out a little harsh, because it hurt.
She showed one iota of doubt and instead of taking the time to reassure her Rachel just went ahead and wished for another, gayer friend?
Rachel didn't seem to notice her tone though, which turned out to be a blessing. "Not really. He could just benefit so much from my meeting my parents. The only gay role models they had as teenagers were in movies or in books and remember this was decades before Queer as Folk or The L Word were around. Kurt could have real life adult role models if he would just put aside his dislike of me."
Feeling guilty for her flash of anger, Quinn bent to kiss her forehead.
She only realized it probably counted as a strike when Rachel wrinkled said forehead at her. "What was that for?"
"It's his loss, Rachel."
"I know, that's my point."
"So . . . you've been to Pride Parades?" She'd heard of them, obviously because who hadn't, but to her knowledge there had never been one in Lima.
"Since I was born," Rachel said proudly, which fit Quinn supposed. "My Dads used to parade me around in a rainbow stroller. My first real win at a talent show was at my fourth Pride event. I'd won competitions before that obviously but that was the first time I remember choosing my own song to perform and my own outfit – I wore a rhinestone shirt and had the cutest little Stetson – I even planned out the choreography. I felt very unique at the time but in hindsight I doubt I was the first or last tap-dancing cowboy to grace that stage."
It wasn't the first time she'd heard Rachel promote her success on the stage. In fact in Glee club it was sometimes a daily occurrence. It was why the kids like Kurt who fancied themselves every bit as talented but didn't have the trophies to back it up yet still didn't like her, and why girls like Santana who just wanted to be the best at everything in any given room would never like her. Quinn had been among that number herself until some wonder-potion fabric softener led to an unwanted attraction and forced her to see past that giant ego to the girl beneath. But she'd never heard her speak of it like this. There was still pride there but it was mixed with a healthy dose of amusement and, dare she think it, humility. Like Rachel thought it was a little silly to be proud of such an achievement but couldn't help that she was anyway. If she brought this side of her out in all of her victory tales she'd probably find more of the Gleeks were happy to celebrate her successes instead of mocking her for them (still not Santana probably, but then she was one of a kind) but as things stood, Quinn was selfishly quite pleased that she was the only one getting to see it.
Not that it was necessarily a good thing when it gave her the urge to kiss Rachel's forehead again.
It garnered exactly the same reaction. "What was that for?"
"Your face is just really soft now. It feels good on my lips."
What the hell was that? Rachel let her off the hook with no more than a giggle and then made a show of focusing her attention back on the musical. Quinn had to give it a few minutes before she was sure she could make conversation again without saying words that would embarrass her. She worked her fingertip in swirls around Rachel's chin while she tried to think of something intelligent to say.
"So what parade do you go to?"
"Columbus usually. It's where my Dads went to college and they still have friends there."
"Your parents have been together since college? Wow. That's even longer than my mom and dad have been married!"
"No, silly, they never even met in college. My dad is three years older than my daddy. They were both in their twenties when they joined the same theatre troupe, travelling the country together for a over a year before they realized they were madly in love with each other."
Quinn smiled at Rachel's romanticized telling of her dads' creation story.
"We've been to others too though. Cleveland, Chicago - we have family there - and we even went to Toronto's one year when we were on vacation."
"What are they like?"
"Like one big, live cabaret," she said wistfully. "The people are all so colorful and happy to be alive and everyone is so accepting and you can be yourself, whoever that is, and still feel like you belong to this giant, loving family."
"Sounds wonderful," Quinn said softly, her head sinking into the pillow beside Rachel's even while her finger continued to stroke her face, not even realising she needed more cream on it to be effectively moisturising.
"It is. And the Drag Queen's are so beautiful, Quinn, and I've seen the most gorgeous lesbians on motorcycles. Honestly, they'd turn even the straightest girl's head." Rachel tilted her head to smile at her. "You should come next year so that I can prove it to you."
"Wouldn't be much of a test," Quinn chuckled and then sat up abruptly as her words sank in.
She didn't outwardly panic, at least she didn't think she did, but inside a million questions were bubbling up and bursting with self-recrimination. She'd thrown the word gay around enough now that she was almost becoming comfortable with it. She'd even bandied lesbian around a few times and each time she felt less like throwing herself off of the nearest tall building. But not straight . . . that had a finality to it she wasn't at ease with. It was one thing to admit that she liked Rachel, and an even harder thing to admit she was sexually attracted to Rachel, but not straight opened up a whole new can of 'Oh fuck!' It ruled out this being a phase, or just being a Rachel thing. It meant she was capital G, capital A, capital Y, capital screwed, GAY!
"I know, Quinn," Rachel said with perfect calm, squeezing her hand. "And I wasn't implying one way or another, I just want you to see how wonderful it all is."
She nodded, licking her lips self-consciously and finally started watching the movie, which was more than half over now. Her mind was racing so fast that she couldn't settle on any particular thought and it didn't even register that she was straining her neck to look over her shoulder at the screen. The only thing she was aware of was the tightness of the grip Rachel had on her hand, or maybe vice-versa, or both.
"Identifying as not straight doesn't necessarily mean . . ." Rachel began.
"Don't," Quinn quietly cut her off.
"Have you heard of the Kinsey Scale? You could rate anything from a two to a six and still not be . . ."
"Don't."
"I personally see myself as bisexual which means that while I . . ."
"Don't, Rachel!"
As much as it scared her she wouldn't have this moment of realization taken away or trivialized. For once she was in favor of having the band aid ripped off in one go. It was harsh but it was clean. Or maybe she was just a coward and the thought of having to go through this moment again was too terrifying.
Rachel was sitting up too now. "I didn't mean to upset you."
She gave a weak chuckle-sob. "You didn't. My sexuality did." And she fell into Rachel's waiting arms in a way that was becoming a bit of a habit.
"Oh, Sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," she mumbled after five minutes or so. "This was supposed to be friend date and I'm ruining it."
"I may not have much experience in such matters, but I'm pretty sure friends are supposed to comfort each other when they're upset."
Quinn nodded against her neck. "I guess. But I'm sure you'd rather be working on the Glee assignment than comforting me."
"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do."
That was enough to make her relax against Rachel. When fingers began to run soothingly through her hair she nuzzled the neck pressed against her face and breathed in and the smell of citrus combined with Rachel did its usual job of calming her.
"Quinn," Rachel whispered. "I need you to know, whatever identity ultimately feels right to you, however you choose to deal with it now and in the future and no matter what it means for us as, well . . .. You will always be my best friend, okay?"
She somehow found the levity and the energy for a small laugh. "You're pushing for that best friend spot again now, Berry? Talk about preying on the weak."
If she hadn't felt the soft rumble of a chuckle in her throat she would have believed Rachel's less than amused reply. "Seriously, Fabray, sometimes you do not make the wanting to prey as easy as I apparently make the needing to pray."
"I'm not supposed to, remember?" She plucked the jar of face cream from her thigh – it was a small miracle it hadn't fallen and dripped all over Rachel's bed in her sudden movements before – and twisted around to set it on the night-stand. Stretching out and straightening her legs, choosing to ignore the way they tangled with Rachel's, she set her eyes on the screen. "So what have I missed?"
Rachel laughed, "All of it, more or less."
"Sorry."
"I'm not. Watch now though, the final dance number is amazing."
It was halfway through when there was a knock at Rachel's door. Quinn rolled away, pushing herself up against her own set of pillows and appreciating that Rachel gave her the time to do so before she called out "Come in."
Leroy opened the door. "Hey, just wanted to let you know I was home. Hi, Quinn, how are you?"
Wasn't that the question of the hour.
"I'm fine, Mr. Berry. How are you?"
"Hungry and grumpy," he shot her a wink. "Sweetpea, I'm going to order those pizza's now, you're Daddy can heat his share up when he gets home. I'll give you one minute to decide what you two want but then . . ."
Rachel didn't even hesitate. "I'll have my usual and Quinn will have a Meat Extreme."
She sat up, "No, I don't need a whole pizza to myself, I'll share Rachel's if that's okay."
"You don't even like my pizza, Quinn. There's not enough dead animals on it for you."
Quinn cringed, feeling her cheeks flush.
"It's okay, Quinn, Hiram and I can't abide a pizza covered solely in dead vegetables either. If you're not hungry enough for a whole one I'll order three extra large and you can help yourself to whatever looks good." He narrowed his eyes, "but if you touch my garlic bread . . ."
"He'll have to kill you." Rachel finished the sentence for him with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be too concerned, Quinn, I have stolen his garlic bread many times and still live to tell the tale."
"There's always next time. One day your garlic bread stealing paws might make me snap." He gave Quinn another wink and then pulled the door closed behind him.
"How are you feeling?"
"I don't know," she said seriously. "I've just come to this giant revelation that I'm not even a little as straight as I wish I was and now I think I have a massive crush on your gay dad. What do you think that means?"
She was already falling back across the bed, giggling and with her hands raised in defence before Rachel socked her in the face with a squishy pillow.