AN: Hello! I just wanted to apologize for my long hiatus! I was really stumped writing this chapter and school has been kicking me in the behind. I do hope you enjoy it though. I will try to not take any more of these long breaks! (BTW, there is a very brief Quinn POV in this chapter)

Songs mentioned are Remix to Ignition, Hey Mickey, Phantom of the Opera, and Patience. I own none!

I do not own Glee!

Finn woke up in a surprisingly good mood the next morning. For the first time in a while, he was actually looking forward to the duet he and Rachel were going to perform. If he thought about it too hard, though, it freaked him out a little. Since when did he get excited about singing in front of people? But today? Today, he was feeling it. Hell, he was even curious to see what the rest of the club came up with. Maybe this whole Glee thing wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

But despite the good mood, a nagging unease lingered in the back of his mind. He and Rachel had only managed one solid run-through before Jesse St. Douchebag had barged in and ruined everything. And yeah, Finn was still salty about that. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud. But whatever. He wasn't about to let that jackass ruin his day.

That is, until he walked into the choir room.

The moment he stepped inside, his stomach dropped.

Standing at the front of the room, acting like they belonged there, were Quinn, Santana, and Brittany.

"What the hell?" Finn blurted out before he could stop himself. The words came out harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't help it. Seeing Quinn standing there—arms crossed, her face unreadable—was like a punch to the gut. She met his gaze for half a second, just long enough for him to catch the flicker of something in her eyes before she turned away, pretending to focus on her nails as if this was just another normal day.

Mr. Schue, oblivious as always, turned toward him with that same wide-eyed, too-excited-for-his-own-good expression he always wore when he was trying to get them to bond over jazz hands or some other ridiculous team-building exercise. "Finn! Great timing! We have some new recruits!"

New recruits.

Finn's eyes darted back to Quinn, searching for some kind of explanation. Some sign, anything, that might make sense of this completely out-of-place situation. But she didn't offer him anything. She just stood there, her posture perfect, her expression cool, like this was part of some larger plan he didn't know about.

Santana, on the other hand, was smirking like she had some inside joke no one else was in on. Brittany, ever the wildcard, waved happily, practically glowing, like joining Glee Club was the best idea in the world.

"What are you guys doing here?" Finn asked, struggling to keep his voice even, though the confusion was creeping through.

Quinn finally looked at him, her lips curling into a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Expanding our horizons," she said, her tone as cool and detached as ever. It was like she'd rehearsed the line a million times.

Santana snorted from beside her. "More like doing our civic duty," she added, her eyes already flicking around the room like she was already bored with the whole thing.

Finn's frown deepened. None of this made sense. Quinn had always made it clear she couldn't care less about Glee. Hell, she'd been one of the biggest obstacles to it even existing in the first place. So why was she suddenly changing her mind now? And why the hell was Santana here? Brittany, he could kind of get, but Santana? It was like the whole thing was some kind of sick joke.

From the back of the room, Rachel's voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with suspicion. "Mr. Schuester, I think we all know why they're here."

Quinn's gaze snapped to Rachel, that familiar smirk sliding into place. "Aw, Berry, you sound paranoid. That's not very becoming," she teased, her voice dripping with that same condescending edge Finn knew all too well.

Rachel's jaw tightened. "We don't need spies," she shot back, her frustration barely contained.

Mr. Schue, ever the mediator, clapped his hands together, his voice trying to smooth things over. "Alright, let's not start off with hostility, guys. Everyone deserves a chance to be here."

Finn barely heard the rest of the conversation. His mind was spinning, trying to piece together the puzzle. It didn't make sense. He didn't buy it. Quinn wasn't telling him everything. She was keeping something from him, and that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach only grew stronger with every passing second.

When Finn was packing up his things to leave, he saw Quinn and the rest of the trio strutting out of the choir room, their footsteps loud in the otherwise quiet hallway. Before he could stop himself, before he could talk himself out of it, he found his legs moving in their direction. It was like there was something magnetic pulling him toward her. It didn't make sense, but it also felt like something he couldn't avoid.

"Hey," he called after her, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He immediately regretted it, but it was too late now.

Quinn didn't stop walking. In fact, she didn't even slow down. She kept her eyes straight ahead, like she had already heard him, already knew what was coming. When she spoke, her voice was flat, bored even, as if she had better things to do than deal with him. "What, Finn?"

His frustration flared, hot and quick. He couldn't hold it in anymore. "What's going on? Why are you really in Glee?" The words shot out, sharper than he intended. There was too much going on in his head—too many questions that didn't add up. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

Quinn let out a soft, dismissive sigh, her eyes still avoiding his like he wasn't even there. She turned slightly, just enough to face him, but when their eyes met, the look on her face was colder than he expected. Her expression was flat, like a mask, but the chill in her gaze hit him harder than it should've. "Sue wants us to keep an eye on things," she said, her voice cool and emotionless. "It's not a big deal."

Finn's frown deepened. "So, you're just here to mess with us?" His voice came out flat, but there was a bitter undertone to it—betrayal, maybe. It felt like a punch to the gut, but he couldn't stop it. The words were out before he could reel them back.

Quinn's eyes finally locked with his, and for a brief moment, Finn thought he saw something flicker there. Something more than annoyance. Something deeper. But it was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by that same cold indifference. "I'm here because I need to be," she said, her voice hard and final, like she'd said everything she needed to and had no intention of explaining herself further.

The simplicity of her words hit him harder than he expected. She wasn't offering him any kind of explanation, no room for questions. It was like she had decided long ago that she wasn't going to let him in on whatever was going on. And the way she said it—like stone, unyielding—made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He knew she wasn't telling him everything.

But that was Quinn. She was always so good at keeping things locked up tight. Finn had spent too many years trying to figure her out, and each time, he felt like he was coming up short. No matter how many times he tried to get close, she always pulled back, always held something back. And no matter how many times she shut him out, it still stung like a fresh wound every single time.

He watched her turn away, her steps steady and purposeful, as she walked down the hallway without another word. And just like that, the gap between them felt even wider.

The Previous Day

Quinn didn't mean to end up at Puck's house. She told herself she was just driving, just wasting time before going home. But somehow, she was here, standing in his bedroom while he leaned against his dresser, watching her with that stupid, cocky grin.

"What's up, Fabray?" he asked, voice lazy and amused.

She shouldn't be here. She knew that. But she was so damn tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of playing the perfect girlfriend. Tired of Finn looking at her like she was something delicate, something untouchable.

So, she kissed Puck.

It wasn't slow or hesitant. It was desperate, fueled by frustration and something else she didn't want to name. He responded immediately, pulling her closer, his hands rough and sure.

For a little while, she let herself forget. She let herself indulge.

She had to say, it was nice.

Later that day, Finn saw Quinn in the hall again. She was wearing her uniform, sharp and pristine, looking like she stepped out of a catalog. But something was off. There was this weird, almost brittle energy around her, like she was holding herself together with delicate strings, barely holding it in. Her posture was unnervingly rigid, like she was physically trying to stay composed, but every step looked like it took effort. When she glanced in his direction, their eyes didn't quite meet. It was almost like she was avoiding him, but in a way that she wasn't even conscious of it. Finn felt the weirdest shift in the air, like something was out of place but he couldn't pinpoint what.

Then, across the hall, he saw Puck. Leaning lazily against the lockers with his arms crossed over his chest, that familiar, cocky smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The look in his eyes wasn't casual. It was different. Finn could feel the weight of Puck's gaze, like he wasn't just looking at Quinn—he was looking at her like he knew something Finn didn't, like there was some unspoken understanding between them. That realization made Finn's stomach twist into tight knots, the kind you get when you know you're missing a huge piece of the puzzle but can't figure out what it is.

Santana strolled by them then, and her voice sliced through the air, smooth and sharp. "Look at you, Q. All relaxed. Must've had a good night," she said, and there was something about her tone that Finn couldn't quite place—mockery, amusement, maybe a mix of both.

Finn frowned, feeling the tension in his jaw. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. He couldn't help it. Something in the air was making him itch with confusion and irritation.

Quinn shot Santana a look—one that was meant to be a warning, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her lips were tight, the only sign of the tension she was clearly holding in. "Nothing," Quinn snapped, and the word was brittle, like the snap of a twig under too much pressure.

Santana, as always, wasn't fazed. She shrugged and kept walking, the smirk never leaving her face. "Whatever you say, princess," she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with taunting.

Finn watched Quinn walk away without sparing him another glance. There was nothing more to it. No explanation. No apology for the distance that had suddenly opened up between them. She just kept walking, the gap between them stretching farther and farther. The pit in his stomach only deepened.

Finn stood there for a second, the confusion swirling in his chest. He couldn't bear to think about his last interaction with Quinn—how it had ended on a note that felt more like a train wreck than a conversation. Or the way the whole football thing had turned into a mess that still stung. So, when he saw Rachel sitting alone at the far end of the cafeteria, he just walked over, no real plan in mind. His feet were moving before he even realized it.

Rachel looked up at him with surprise in her eyes, like she hadn't been expecting him. "Finn?" Her voice was cautious, like she wasn't sure whether this was a moment she should brace for or just take as it came.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Can I sit?" he asked, his words coming out a little softer than he meant.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, her eyes studying him. Finn could almost feel her analyzing him, wondering what he was really thinking, what was behind the awkwardness. But after a beat, she nodded and pushed her tray aside, making room for him without saying a word.

Finn sat down, his tray of food in front of him, but he wasn't really hungry. The cafeteria was loud, like it always was, but the noise faded into the background as he sat there with Rachel. For some reason, with her, it just felt... easier. Like, even though things were still weird between him and everyone else, he could just breathe for a moment. He poked at his food, not really tasting it, trying to make sense of the mess in his head.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Rachel was the first to speak, her voice quieter than usual. "I was surprised to see Quinn and the others in Glee today," she said, testing the waters, like she wasn't sure how much she could say without pushing too hard.

Finn let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, me too," he said, trying to sound indifferent, but there was an edge to his voice. He didn't want to talk about it, but at the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Rachel was studying him closely with those big, dark eyes of hers. She had this way of looking at him like she was peeling away the layers, trying to figure out what was really going on beneath the surface. "You don't believe her reasoning, do you?" she asked, her voice low and serious, like she already knew the answer.

Finn shook his head. "Nope," he muttered. His stomach twisted again, a tight knot forming as the weight of the situation settled deeper inside him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with Quinn, that something had changed. And he wasn't sure if it was just her—or if he was missing something bigger, something he couldn't see.

Rachel took a slow sip of her water, her gaze never leaving his. When she set the glass down, she sighed, like the weight of it all had finally hit her. "She's hiding something, Finn. I can feel it," she said softly, her words almost a whisper, but they held a weight to them that made Finn feel like she understood exactly what he was going through.

Finn met her gaze, feeling that familiar twist in his stomach. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice thick with uncertainty. "I think you're right."

They sat in silence for a while after that, the tension hanging between them, but oddly, it didn't feel uncomfortable. Rachel didn't press him for answers. She didn't push. It was like she understood that he just needed space to breathe. And for the first time in days, Finn felt like he could actually relax, just a little bit. If only for this moment.

The choir room was buzzing with energy, and Finn couldn't quite figure out if it was the good kind of buzz or the kind that made you want to fake a seizure just to get out of there. Mr. Schue was grinning like a damn camp counselor, clapping his hands together so enthusiastically that Finn half expected him to shout, "Alright, team! Trust falls on three!" "Alright, guys, let's see what you've got!" Mr. Schue announced, stepping back with way too much excitement for a grown man in a vest. The guy acted like they were about to perform a Broadway show, not just stand around awkwardly singing in front of each other.

Artie and Mercedes went first, and Finn had to admit, their choice was kinda sick. The second Remix to Ignition started blaring through the speakers, Artie leaned into the mic with that smooth-ass opening line, and Mercedes—damn, Mercedes—just went off. She hit those notes like she was born to do it, and Finn couldn't help but find himself bobbing his head a little, trying to look like he wasn't impressed, but it was actually kinda awesome. The whole room was vibing with them, even the people who looked like they didn't want to be there. Artie didn't even break a sweat. He was smooth as hell.

He also found himself wondering if Artie was biracial, but whatever.

Then things got weird.

Finn was still mentally riding the beat from Ignition when the lights dimmed just a little, and Tina and Kurt walked out onto the stage looking like they were about to host a séance or sacrifice a goat or something. Seriously. Tina had this weird, creepy white mask on that looked like something straight out of a horror movie, all dramatic and… unsettling. And Kurt? Kurt looked like a damn Disney princess. No joke. He was wearing this frilly, old-timey dress-looking thing, and Finn had to blink a few times to make sure his brain wasn't glitching out.

"What the hell am I looking at right now?" Finn muttered under his breath, still trying to process what he was seeing.

Rachel, sitting beside him, sighed dramatically, like he was the most exhausting person in the room. "It's Phantom of the Opera," she whispered, like that was supposed to clear everything up.

Finn just stared at her, totally confused. "That's not an answer."

"It's a musical," she said, her voice dripping with that tone she always used when she was talking to someone she considered a little... behind. "It's about a haunted opera house, forbidden love, and music so beautiful it transcends time."

Finn narrowed his eyes at the stage, still trying to process everything. "Right. So… ghosts?"

Rachel let out a quiet, pained noise like he was the biggest idiot on Earth. But Finn was too busy watching Kurt, who was singing the chick part of the song, doing all these dramatic gestures. And then it hit him. "Wait, hold up. Are dudes actually supposed to sing this high?" he whispered to Rachel, still not sure if he was dreaming.

She gave him a look that made it abundantly clear she thought he was the dumbest person on the planet. "Of course! It's called a countertenor."

Finn wasn't buying it. He had heard about dudes who had their junk removed to sing higher, and he was 99 percent sure Kurt wasn't just wearing a frilly dress to be fashionable. Finn had a strong feeling Kurt was 100 percent Ken doll down there.

When their song ended with a ridiculous final note that lasted so long Finn thought he might have to call an ambulance, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He was starting to wonder if the room had some kind of weird, collective mental breakdown.

Then, as if on cue, Brittany and Santana jumped up, like they had been waiting for this exact moment to take over.

"Oh my God, let's do Hey Mickey!" Brittany squealed, grabbing Santana's arm and dragging her to the front.

The second the music started, they broke into a whole-ass routine, like they had been rehearsing it for weeks. They were everywhere—dancing, shaking their pom-poms, and making sure that literally everyone in the room was watching them. Finn could see Quinn out of the corner of his eye, sitting so stiff in her seat she looked like she might snap in half. Her eyes were practically shooting daggers at them. Yeah, she was definitely pissed about being left out of their little cheerleading duet. Finn almost felt bad for her, but then Brittany and Santana did this high-kick thing and he forgot all about it.

Finally, it was Finn and Rachel's turn.

He let out a long sigh as he stood up, adjusting the mic stand, trying to act like this wasn't a big deal. The last time they tried this duet, things had ended… weirdly. But whatever. It was just singing, right?

Rachel looked up at him with those big, hopeful eyes, like this was the moment she'd been dreaming about her whole life. Finn had to physically remind himself to not think about that. The music started, and he opened his mouth, letting his voice blend with hers.

And damn it… it sounded good. Like, actually good.

Finn wasn't sure what was happening, but the second they hit the chorus, something clicked. Their voices meshed together so perfectly, her harmonies slipping into place so naturally that it almost pissed him off. It shouldn't sound this good. But it did.

For the first time since getting blackmailed into this stupid club, Finn felt… something. Like maybe, just maybe, this didn't totally suck. Maybe this whole Glee Club thing wasn't a waste of time after all.

The last note hung in the air before silence swallowed the room. Then, out of nowhere, the rest of the club started clapping and cheering like they were some kind of rock stars. Rachel was grinning like she had just won a damn Tony. Finn scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling weirdly self-conscious.

As they walked out of the choir room, the excitement from their performance was still buzzing in the air, clinging to Rachel like an invisible halo. She was practically glowing, her eyes wide with that same bright energy she had when she was performing. Finn couldn't help but notice how everything seemed to sparkle a little more when she was around. He focused on the floor, trying to avoid her gaze, but his brain kept betraying him—like how her hair looked shinier today or how her eyes got all big and excited when she talked about anything.

"Finn, that was amazing!" Rachel said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. She was walking just a little faster, her pace matching her excitement.

Finn shrugged, still chewing on the last of his gum, hoping to look nonchalant. "Yeah, wasn't bad." He swallowed, but before he could stop himself, he added, "You, uh… looked nice up there, too."

Rachel blinked, clearly caught off guard by the compliment. For a second, Finn thought he might've completely messed things up. He didn't know why he'd said it—maybe he was just trying to avoid the awkward silence that usually followed these things. But then she smiled, and it was different from the usual confident, almost rehearsed smile she always gave. This one was softer, more genuine.

"Thanks," she said, her voice quieter now, like the compliment had taken her by surprise.

Finn immediately looked down at the floor, trying to hide the fact that his heart was suddenly beating a little faster. His face felt hot, and he hoped she didn't notice. Maybe this whole Glee Club thing wasn't going to be the worst thing ever. Maybe.

AN #2: Like I said in a previous chapter, this story is very AU. There will be no infamous Babygate, but there will be "Quick" infidelity to move the plot along!