no-one-fuck-a-man - Tumblr blog

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Sixteen - (Original Song) Trouty Mouth!

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Against what you considered your teams better judgement, the New Directions were convinced to write original songs for the upcoming competition, that could seal your hopes and dreams of -temporarily- getting out of the small town you called home. If only drama didnt follow the club like a plague.

Word Count: 5,352

WARNINGS: Maths, argument, yearning, that’s mostly it

-----

"Guys, I've got some bad news."

"Oh, just what I want to hear on a morning," you sassed from your seat beside Artie, the boy helping you finish your calculus homework last minute.

"No one does, Y/N," Mr Schue drawled, "You know how we decided on 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance for Regionals? Well, I hold in my hand a cease and desist letter from the band. We can't do it."

Puckerman scoffed from the back of the choir room, "It was the perfect anthem."

At the Spanish teacher's statement, you pulled your attention where you were scribbling a -probably wrong- equation onto the paper in your lap, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"That really doesn't sound like something the band would do."

"How much do you wanna bet Coach Sylvester has something to do with this?" Mercedes asked, shaking her head.

"One step ahead of you."

"So, what are we gonna do now?" she continued.

Before Mr Schue could begin to offer up some words of confidence, whilst he secretly worried inside, Rachel voiced her opinion.

"I think we should write original songs for Regionals."

"Oh, nope. That's still a bad idea." You shook your head, turning back to your homework.

You hate to admit it because you loved your sister dearly, but your hand was one of the firsts that rose into the air after Santana's declaration.

"All those in favour of voting Rachel down a second time?"

However, what came next shocked you to your very core.

"No, I think Rachel is right."

With horrified eyes, you turned to look over your shoulder at the blonde sitting behind you.

"Who are you, and what the hell have you done with Quinn Fabray?"

The girl rolled her eyes at you.

"This team works best when we push ourselves and do something a little different."

At Quinn's defence for your sister, everyone with their hands raised slowly started to lower them, listening to her reasonings intently.

"That's true, but if the all the other teams are doing amazing songs, we're not gonna be so good."

"You're right. We're not gonna be as good. We're gonna be better," Quinn countered Mercedes, "We won't be using other people's words or music. It'll be our own. Our own heart, soul, not just our voices. We have a really talented songwriter in our midst. Rachel, I was thinking maybe you and I could write a song together."

Okay, now something was definitely up.

Not only was Quinn Fabray volunteering to spend time with your sister, working on a project, when you knew full well that she could barely stand the shorter diva Berry.

But she also called her a "talented songwriter", when if she was forced to hear any of the drafts you had been, you knew she would not be saying that. Nor would she be jumping -creating- the opportunity to work with her.

"I'm with Quinn and Rachel," Finn spoke, looking between the two teenagers he had dated, making you roll your eyes at him, "I mean, if these two can agree on something, it's probably an idea worth considering."

"Well, I still think it's a bad one."

"Wait a minute. So suddenly, you two are writing music for Regionals?" Santana asked, almost affronted, "No way. I think that everyone should get a chance to write a song."

Sam was quick to agree with his girlfriend.

"Santana's right. We can do this."

"What do you think, Mr Schue?" Mercedes asked the man standing in the centre of the room, cease and desist letter still within his grasp.

The curly-haired man shrugged, giving a tight-lipped but pleased smile.

"I think we're doing original songs for Regionals."

After the short applause, both young Berrys turned to gander at the blonde behind them.

Rachel with a thankful smile.

And yourself, with a snappy comment.

"Seriously, who are you?"

---

Early the next day, before your first class, you meandered the halls, looking for one of your friends to chat with for the short time before the bell rang.

And that's exactly what you found.

Only, they didn't look how you expected.

"Oh, what the hell happened to you two?" you asked the two ex-cheerleaders, whose clothes were caked in soil, mouths also coated in the stuff, looking as if they had been eating it.

"Sue put dirt in our lockers," Santana explained as Brittany spat the stuff from her mouth, trying to pluck it away with her just-as-covered fingers. Her statement made your eyes drag behind them to where their lockers sat, filled with dirt.

"That's insane. Why'd she do it?"

"She's still pissed at us for not going to the Cheerios Nationals and the fact that she's not a cheer coach anymore."

"She is the prettiest person I have ever met, and I live with my sister." Gesturing them towards you, you said, "Okay, let's uh... let's get you two a change of clothes. Unless you wanna look like you just dug yourselves out of shallow graves."

Hours later, you had escorted the -now changed- girls into the choir room, dispersing throughout. A lot of club members with open notepads on their laps and pens in hand, just waiting for the director to enter the room so that they could start their lesson.

With a tall stack of yellow books in his arms, the man said, "All right, guys, let's hear it for our first songwriting seminar."

You still thought it was a bad idea, but you had decided to go with it nonetheless. It's better for you to try and fail than to not try at all.

"While Quinn and Rachel are hard at work, we're gonna try to write an anthem of our own," Mr Schue told, as he handed out the thick books, "Now, these are rhyming dictionaries for all of you."

"Mr Schue, Tina, and I have been uh already working on a song that I wrote," Santana offered.

"Really? That's amazing. Well, can we hear it?"

The Latina gave a small nod before moving to stand in the centre of the room, Tina making her way to the heys of the piano.

"This is a song that I wrote for Am. It's called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The blonde boy's sweet smile fell at that.

"Wait. What's it called?"

Only for Mike to lean over and whisper, "'Trouty Mouth'."

You didn't know a song could make you this happy.

Every one of Santana's lyrics was better than the last.

That was until Sam had to go and ruin it for you.

"Okay, can we stop?" he asked, outraged, as he jumped to his feet, "Stop with the mouth jokes."

"No, no, no!" you whined, aghast, once the music was abruptly cut off.

"Sit down. I'm not finished."

"Yes, you are." The boy then turned to the seated teacher, "Mr Schue, we're not doing a song at Regionals called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The man stuttered, rising from his own seat as he gestured to the blonde, "You know what? I have to agree with Sam on this one."

"Oh, I disagree." You shook your head with a bright smile tugging at your lips. "'Trouty Mouth' has got to be an iconic anthem. Really a song for generations."

"Y/N," Mr Schuester scolded you before turning back to Santana, "But such a good first effort. I just don't think it's got the epic feel we need for Regionals."

"I do." Your hand shot into the air, playfully being shoved by Sam as he manoeuvred back to his seat.

It seems Santana wasn't the only eager participant in the room, as Puckerman soon voiced his own involvement with a raise of his hand.

"Mr Schue, I wrote a song too. I wrote it for Lauren." The girl looked away awkwardly at that, spurring the boy into manoeuvering further into her line of sight. "I know that when I sang 'Fat Bottomed Girls', it might have hurt your feelings a little bit, but... I think this makes up for it." The delinquent continued down to replace a disgruntled Santana. It's got a bit of a rockabilly feel, so it could give us an edge this weekend."

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," you admitted as your teacher nodded the boy on.

"All right. Show us what you've got."

You couldn't help but laugh as Santana walked by Mr Schue, muttering to the man, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me."

"It's called 'Big Ass... Heart'."

"Why was that good?" you asked once the boy's short performance was over, "Stop making things that I like."

Mr Schuester, it seems, didn't share your same opinions, 'cause as soon as he could, he popped up out of his seat, hoping to get the boy off of the floor.

"All right, guys, let's make Puck's song a contender, but I don't totally think we're there yet. Everyone look at your rhyming dictionaries, and let's work on banging out some songs that rock."

---

"I have to talk with you."

With a short yell, you startled back, slamming your locker door in reaction. Snapping your head to the side, you spotted your sister, an almost conspiring look upon her features.

"Hey. Why do you always have to scare me? How was your songwriting session with blondie?" you asked, beginning to make your way down the hall, forcing a trailing Rachel to jog to catch up, to be by your side.

"It was fine. Quinn lacks my vision and years of studying lyrics and the meaning behind songs, but with some more work, I'm sure she could help me."

You rolled your eyes in reaction to her grandiose words while she quickly shook her head. "But that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Aha. And what's on your mind?"

"I think Finn is dating Quinn again."

A familiar weight sunk in your chest. Cold and heavy. Something close to hopeless despair.

But you couldn't let your sister know that.

And you couldn't tell her that you knew they had been fooling around, even with no proof of that fact, considering she had flat-out believed Quinn's lie in the last celibacy club session you had attended. It would destroy her, and even though you knew you should tell her the truth, it would be the right thing to do, but you just didn't want to see her hurt.

"What makes you say that?"

"They were talking, and they were really close."

You gasped sarcastically, "I'll call the Pope!"

"Y/N, would you take this seriously?"

"And why the hell should I do that?" you asked, talking with a hand whilst the other held onto the strap of your backpack, "They were just taking, Rach. They can do that."

"Yeah, but it seemed... different."

"'Different' how?"

"Like they were talking about their relationship."

"And how does that look?" you almost laughed, "Look, Rach, at the end of the day, it's none of our business what they were talking about, no matter if he's your ex or not- If anything, you have less of a right to know."

Before she could reply, you were literally saved by the bell ringing overhead, signalling the start of your next class.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb. "I have to go get a 'C+' on my calculus homework... with any luck," you finished to yourself as you walked away from her,

Thoughts of Quinn and Finn swam through your mind as that sinking feeling continued to grow.

---

It was a relief when Mercedes pulled you away from the rhyming dictionary before you with the incredible song she wrote and performed for everyone in the choir room.

"Yeah. Mercedes," Mr Schuester applauded with the club, speaking over everyone's cheers, "Really, really good."

"Thank you." The girl beamed.

"But, um..."

Mercedes' smile dropped at that.

"'But' my butt, Mr Schue. That song was amazing." She pointed a finger in the man's face as to get her point across.

"No, I agree. I'm just not sure that it's Regionals material."

The girl sighed softly, making her way over to the seats.

"Mr Schue, I wrote another verse of 'Trouty Mouth'," Santana voiced, bringing the attention to her, spurring Sam to raise the sign he had scribbled onto his notepad in support of Mercedes' song, reading 'hell no'.

Nodding along with the Latina from your seat beside her at the piano, you said, "I helped."

"No, no, no. Guys- Guys, just think about it. What's your favourite song of all time?"

"'My Headband'," Brittany spoke instantly.

"I'll let Rachel know that one person likes the song she's been torturing me with for weeks now."

"Allina Morissette's 'You Oughta Know'," Santana offered next.

Puckerman was Next. "'What's going on', Marvin Gaye."

"Puckerman, you're on a roll." Zizes complimented from where she stood, leaning against the side of the piano closest to you.

Taking the time to think on it while Santana and Puck had offered their favourite songs, you wracked your brain to find one of the songs that you loved.

"'Piano Man' by Billy Joel." You nodded, playing with the pen between your fingers.

"Okay, and what are all those songs about?" the teacher questioned.

"Headbands?" Brittany shrugged behind him.

Deciding to ignore the dirty blonde's answer, the man continued, "All these songs come from a place of pain. Look, the greatest songs are about hurt. And that's the side of yourself I want you to get in touch with."

"That should be easy," Artie stated, "Coach Sylvester tortures us for no reason and tries to get the entire school to hate us."

"Not that they didn't already." You shrugged. "At this point, it's just beating a dead horse with a stick."

"Yesterday, she filled Britt's and my lockers with dirt."

Mr Schuester rushed up to the whiteboard to begin listing Sue Sylvester's verbal abuse to the club.

"Okay, okay. Slow down."

"Literally no one else was talking," you uttered.

Mercedes voiced her own complaint about the blonde coach next, "Well, she literally throws sticks at me."

"Okay, what else? What else?"

"She called the Ohio Secretary of State saying she was me and that I wanna legally change my name to Tina Cohen-Loser."

You couldn't help but snort at that as everyone looked on in shock.

"She...?"

"Mean. Mean."

"I'm sorry," you told the girl, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Okay, and how does that make you feel?"

"That she shouldn't be around children."

Fin had something else to say, however.

"Well... at first it hurts, but... then it mostly makes you wanna win."

"Guys..." the teacher smiled. "I think you may have just found your song."

"And that song is 'Trouty Mouth'." You pointed.

"No!" Mr Schue and Sam called out at the same time. Disappointing both you and the Latina who created the song.

"Now let's get to writing," the curly-haired man psyched everyone up as the title 'Loser Like Me' sat on the board behind him.

With a deep, grunted sigh, you dropped your head onto Santana's shoulder, preparing yourself for the only lesson to go.

By the end of the Glee Club meeting, your brain was fried by the number of words that ran through it. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to string together a sentence if your life depended on it.

To come to your sister's aid, however? That was a whole other thing entirely.

It was the end of the school day, and you knew Rachel would be working overtime on her songwriting, dragging Quinn along with her.

And considering you would rather not have a murdered sister, you were on your way to the auditorium, fully intent on dragging her kicking and screaming from the school if you had to. 'Cause, there was no way in hell that you were coming back to pick her up.

Only, you didn't have to do anything of the sort.

You were stunned in place just before you could reach the backstage door of the auditorium when your sister strode out, tears spilling from her eyes, trying to keep her sobs at bay.

"I'll be waiting in the car," she whimpered, rushing past you, trying to get out of the school as quick as possible but knowing that you weren't about to let her state slide.

So, as you watched her leave down the hall, your face grew hard, anger boiling up within you, face turning into a snarl as you span on your heel, slammed the door open, and strode over to where the blonde was sitting at the piano on the stage.

"Hey, what the hell did you say to her?!" you asked, pointing behind you.

Quinn sniffed, blinking back the wetness building up in her red eyes.

Maybe if you weren't so angry at her, you would have noticed apparent distress of her own.

"I just gave her a dose of reality," she said primly, straightening out the papers scattered along the grand piano.

"Reality that makes her cry?"

"Life sucks, sometimes, Y/N," she snapped, "She needs to get used to it- The rest of us have."

You scoffed at that, shaking your head in reaction.

"You know, though last year you were pregnant and had all of those demon hormones, so that if I said, "Hey, I don't like this flavour of gum," you would go into an eternal rage. But at least you weren't such a heinous bitch all the time!"

The blonde was gobsmacked by your sudden snapped reaction, gasping and pointing to her chest as she repeated your words, in offence, "You think I'm a heinous bitch?"

"Oh no, I know you are!"

"And what?" she challenged, "You want me to go back to being that sad, pregnant girl? Just so that you will like me?"

"No." You shook your head, obviously. "I want you to go back to that girl who cared about people other than herself."

"You think I don't care?"

"Do you call this caring?!" you argued, gesturing to the space around you wildly, "Really? So, what was this "dose of reality" you gave her that you consider caring?" you asked, utilising air quotes as you did.

"I told her that she didn't belong here, in this town. She was going to get out of here, and I was just sending her on her way." She almost sneered, confusing you, as you thought she had insulted your sister and not told her exactly what she wanted to hear. "That I was going to get married to Finn and start a family, he was going to get Burt's tire shop, and I would become a successful real estate agent, and she-" Quinn had to take in a sharp breath to gear herself up for what she was about to say. "She knows that she's going to get everything she has ever dreamed of... just not the boy she loved in high school."

The blonde had a hard time reading you as you stood there, silently evaluating her.

"Is that really what you think of yourself?" you asked finally, confusing her.

"What?"

"You think you're gonna be stuck here for the rest of your life?"

"That's my dose of reality. I've gotten used to it."

Suddenly, your dwindling anger spurred back to life.

"After- After everything I told you, you still believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How many times have I told you you can do anything, Quinn Fabray?" you stepped up to her now, unknowingly mirroring her and Rachel's positions from only minutes ago, only flipped in your favour.

But still, the girl was stubborn. Looking up at you with a hard pour, not backing down.

"You're amazing, and you don't fucking see it. You once told me that you wanted to help change the word, make it a better place-"

"That was just a silly dream!" She yelled, flinging her arms out by her sides.

"No, it's not! It's not silly, and it's less a dream and more of a plan. Being a real estate agent is all well and good, but you are destined for far better things- Greater things."

It was only then that you noticed the hopeless look in her eyes, the way they shone with tears, reddened and burning as she fought them off tooth and nail.

"Quinn," you breathed, "Is... is this about-?"

"Don't." She sneered. "Just... just don't, Y/N. I don't want to hear this right now."

She turned, trying to walk away before you could confront her truth when it was too hard for her to do so herself.

"You don't need to hide yourself like this."

"What do you know?!" she yelled, spinning back to face you, tears fully built up in her eyes, but still, none fell, as she stormed back over to you, "You've never had to do it! You've never had to be someone you're not. You're lucky enough to have a family that accepted you the second you were born. Not only that, but your parents relate to you on that!"

"Yeah, you're right." You nodded after a few moments of silence. "I don't understand exactly what you're going through. But I do know that you don't have to throw yourself into a life you truly don't want just because you're too scared to be you. Look, I'm not telling you to come out or lead the fucking pride parade. That's up to you. It's your choice. You can still live the life you want without doing all that. Don't throw your dreams away because you're scared of how other people will perceive you."

And with that, you left the blonde alone to her thoughts, heading off to comfort your crying sister as best you could.

You couldn't get anything out of her during the whole car ride back home, which was abnormal for her when she was in a state such as ones like this.

Even when you arrived home, Rachel rushed straight up to her pastel yellow room, leaving you to watch from her doorway as she cried and scribbled lyrics onto her notepad, surrounded by multiple drafts crumpled up around her.

With a deep sigh and a droop of your shoulders, you knew there was nothing you could do to help her at that moment. She didn't want any help nor did she want comfort, so there was no likelihood that she would accept it.

Stepping foot into your own room, your eyes travelled to where your own pad of paper sat at your desk, infesting your brain with thoughts of writing your own song.

Shaking your head, you quickly decided, "absolutely not." Instead, you pulled out your textbook to work on your homework, your brain was broken enough from songwriting today, and you needed to finish your history for tomorrow. Even if you wanted to lay down and nap for the next four hours.

---

The next few days passed in a blur and yet dwindled along slowly, at the same time, mainly when you and your sister had to be around the blonde and her boyfriend.

But the day had finally arrived.

Regionals.

You had to admit that you weren't that hopeful, with your songs being original and all that, but you were still gonna give it your all. If not for yourself or your team, but for your sister.

As usual, your club was late arriving at the competition, so as the announcer introduced the first competitors over the PA, you scooted your way through the rows to your designated seats.

"-Let's have a warm welcome for Aural Intensity!"

"Still sounds like a stupid term for going down on someone," you mumbled over to Mike, who had to stifle his laugh into his shoulder.

The expression you wore was one of disgusted astonishment, watching Sue's clear attempt at pandering to the judges, which only further grew with the cheering crowd.

You just hoped that Kurt and the Warbler's performance was far better than what you were just forced to sit through.

That hope was quickly proved true, as to your utter surprise, your friend began the setlist for his Glee Club, which made you beam out of pure happiness for this chance for him to shine in front of an audience.

Both Berry's in the crowd found their eyes trailing over to the couple that was Quinn and Finn, noticing the way that their hands were linked. Rachel and yourself yearning for opposite people in said couple. How two people could captivate a pair of siblings and be together like it was nothing, effortlessly crushing both Berry's hearts, was beyond you. It just seemed like a sick joke the world was playing.

Tearing your eyes away from them, you focused back on your friend and his boyfriend.

You suppose that is why he didn't let you know that he would be singing front and centre for this competition. He was far too excited to gush about the boy he had been harbouring feelings for, for months now, who had become his boyfriend. And not only that, he had had his first real kiss, that wasn't with Brittany. Or, unknowingly to you, taking from him by Karofsky.

After their duet and Blane's rendition of 'Raise Your Glass', that got the whole crowd jumping on their feet, it was the New Direction's turn to perform.

Walking through the backstage area with Santana by your side, you overheard Finn talking to your sister.

"I really like your song."

"It sure is better than 'My Headband'." You threw over your shoulder, gaining a soft glare from Rachel before she swiftly turned back to talk to her ex-boyfriend.

"I still think I should have sung 'Trouty Mouth' as the solo."

Breathing out a laugh, you threw your arm over the girl's shoulder. "Oh, I agree with you there."

From across the way, almost as if his ears had been attuned to the two words so that he would be able to hear them strung together within a five-mile radius, Sam yelled, "Stop talking about 'Trouty Mouth'!" Harbouring laughs from the club in reaction.

"And now, from William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio, the New Directions!"

You were by Finn's side during the entirety of your sister's performance, arms folded across your chest, all the while he listened to the lyrics intently, with an awestruck look on his face.

"She was crying while she wrote this."

"Why?" he breathed back as if speaking any louder would disrupt the performance. Unable to take his eyes off of his singing ex.

You could have told him about her and Quinn's argument, but you thought it best to give him the whole, blaring, obvious truth.

"Because she's still in the love with you."

His breath shortened then, while you glanced behind him, spotting his girlfriend, who had obviously heard your statement, staring into your soul with a look you couldn't quite decipher. She was frustrated and annoyed you could tell that much, even though she hid it well. But there was also a hopelessness and longing emitted from her.

But there wasn't long for you to dwell on it, as a few moments later, she and the rest of the girls were marching out. Followed by the boys and yourself after Rachel had introduced your team. Which quickly lead into your next and final song for the competition.

You were glad that it wasn't another slow number, where you had to be careful and intricate with your dance moves, but instead was one where you could end it off by dousing the audience with shiny red confetti, masquerading in slushie cups along with a cart. A reference, which only people who knew about and attended your school would know of.

After the judges had taken a short amount of time in their deliberation, the three Glee Clubs and their directors were gathered on stage to hear the results of the competition.

"And now, to announce our winner, Lieutenant Governor Stevens' wife, Carla Turlington Stevens."

"Who are these random-ass people they get for these things?" you whispered, once again to Mike, as you joined everyone else to applaud for the woman.

"Do you think they would be able to get anyone else to do it?" he countered.

"Touché, I supposed not."

Once the woman took the stage, she felt that to be the ideal time to get her troubles off of her chest.

"My husband is verbally abusive, and I have been drinking since noon." Feedback from the microphone was the only thing that filled the awkward silence her confession had garnered. "I'm bored. Let's just see who won, huh?" Suspense filled the three hopeful teams as the drunk woman opened the first-place envelope. "The New Directions, you're going to Nationals in New York."

The celebrations with your team were cut short, thanks to Sue Sylvester's outburst, where she strode up to the Governor's wife and knocked her out cold.

Talk about being a sore loser.

---

You were sat beside your sister when Mr Schuester walked into the choir room, carrying a small trophy, busy talking on the phone.

"I'll show you the video when you get home. Have fun at the sweat lodge." You cringed at the next words he cooed down the line, trying -and failing- to hide it from his students. "Namaste to you too. Okay, bye."

Leaning closer to Rachel you muttered, "She could do so much better than him." Knowing that he and Holly Holliday had been seeing each other since she came in to teach everyone about sex, because they were so bad at hiding it.

Only she wasn't the only person who had heard your comment.

Quinn Fabray, who was seated in front of your sister, peered at you from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile shadowing her lips. Sending a hopeful rush through you, even though your mind was screaming at you that it was worthless to even feel.

"Miss Holliday sends her best," he turned to tell the team, "And can't wait to congratulate you all in person when she gets back from her meditation retreat. Now, we all know that winning Regionals was a team effort, and Nationals isn't going to be any different. But... like in sports, every winning team has a player that rises above to help carry their teammates to victory. The M.V.P.." He pointed before bringing the gold star trophy into view. "And I would like to start a tradition of honouring that player after every one of our competitions. So, per a unanimous vote by all of you... our Regionals M.V.P. is... Miss Rachel Berry."

The club applauded for your sister as the director waved her down to accept her award.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." She beamed. "If I could just say a few words?"

"Sure."

"And here she goes, making me regret voting for her," Santana said dryly.

"Same." You nodded, smiling down at Rachel playfully. Please don't start singing."

She rolled her brown eyes at you.

"Well, first of all, I just wanna say how amazing the song you guys wrote was. I-I was so inspired. You know, it's funny. I've won a lot of trophies before for singing competitions, and dancing competitions but... I've always felt like the girl who never gets the brass ring... and maybe I never will." She shrugged. "But today a-and at Regionals... the way you guys believed in me and... took a chance with me... all I've ever wanted was to feel special... and to feel chosen. And... I just, um... I wanted to thank you guys so much for giving me that. So, that's all."

After your sister's tearful speech, you lead the charge in giving her a hug, a proud look on your face, at her -not arrogant- speech.

So maybe doing original songs wasn't the worst idea ever.

You still thought it was pretty dumb, though.

However, there was no way you were gonna let Rachel know that anytime soon.

After all, you were far too excited for one thing and one thing alone.

New York City.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Fifteen - (Sexy) The Case of the Pink Panties

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: The week began with sexual ignorance and only continued so, your teachers solution? Sing about sex! You went to a school for crazy people.

Word Count: 7,012

WARNINGS: Talks of sex and birth, references to sexual assault, short argument, cheating but definitely not cheating, awkward discussions, hurt, safety hazards

(A/N): Happy International Women's Day!

-----

One step forward. Ten steps back.

If someone were to ask you to describe the situation you shared with the blonde ex-cheerleader, that would be the most obtuse way of representing it.

It seemed, however, that you weren't the only one fretting over the girl. You weren't even the only Berry Quinn Fabray had some kind of holdover.

Which is exactly why you were here. Again.

Just like the previous school year, you had been dragged to the Celibacy Club by your sister. Only this time, it wasn't chock full of cheerleaders who used it as a master class on how to tease someone. Now it was sparse and not run by the students but instead by the school's guidance counsellor.

What made it worse was that it wasn't even your first meeting, and you suspected it wouldn't be your last.

With the bang of a gavel, you were pulled from your bored daze. Thrust into experiencing yet another meeting filled with your sister's invasive questions.

"The Celibacy Club will now come to order," Mrs Pillsbury stated, "Let's start the meeting by reading the minutes from last week's meeting where we... read the minutes from the previous meeting, and Rachel spent the hour quizzing Quinn about her relationship with Finn."

"Man, that was a long sixty minutes," you mumbled painfully, remembering it vividly. No more so than when you found out about the renewed couple, at that meeting, purely because of the guilty look upon Quinn's face. Continuing to spend the entirety of the hour trying to settle your cracking heart as the blonde shot you pitty-filled, apologetic glances. To say you grilled Finn after that was an understatement, not that it came to much, other than his own guilty looks and stumbled words before he managed to evade you entirely.

"Questions somebody still refuses to answer," your sister muttered quietly as she fidgeted with her baby pink pen.

"And I'll continue to refuse to answer them because they are none of your business," Quinn snapped, " All I will reveal is that I rejoined the Celibacy Club to focus on me."

"Me too. Finn is kryptonite-"

"So then why do you keep asking about him-? Ow!"

Rolling her eyes after kicking her heel into your shin, she continued her sentence as you tried to soothe the painful area by rubbing it.

"-Which is why I'm focusing all my energies now on my songwriting."

Flashing a look over to the blonde, you silently agreed that you were on the same page, when it came to Rachel and her songwriting.

That page? Chapter Twelve, page thirty-two, entitled 'fucking annoyed'.

You joined Quinn on her slight roll of the eyes. If your sister noticed, she didn't say anything in rebuttal. Or she didn't have the chance, thanks to the ginger guidance counsellor.

"Yes, and I have to say, I am very inspired that the three of you are showing how Celibacy is a viable option for teens who simply aren't ready for intimacy-"

With a scoff, you corrected the woman at the front of the room, raising your hand as you spoke, "I don't wanna be celibate. I like sex. I'm just forced to be here." Throwing your sister a pointed look. "Again."

Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Emma continued, "Well, for the two of you-" She gestured her arms out to the two girls as you folded yours across your chest. "-Celibacy is a viable option. And also for those who are older and are terrified of the hose monster."

You couldn't help the loud, pain-filled snort that tore through you at her description. Continuing to try and stifle your laughs into your folded arms, only for them to come out as dry wheezes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You waved. "It's just "hose monster". I'm never gonna get over that. I'm not gonna be able to call it anything else. "Hey, you wanna come over to my place and see my 'hose monster'?"" You finished with a loud laugh.

It didn't take long before it quieted down into annoyed silence with Quinn Fabray's words.

"Sometimes I'm surprised that you've even had sex."

Your face fell at that, sucking your teeth in reaction, 'you would know' on the tip of your tongue. But instead, you pulled a smug smile onto your lips and offered, "I can prove it to you if you like?"

For the second time, in less than two minutes, she rolled her eyes at a Berry.

"Anyway, I have a little bit of club swag here that I think's really gonna catch on," Mrs Pillsbury said excitedly, spinning the body-shaped jewellery holder to show off the heart and key-shaped necklaces, "See."

"Oh, what the hell are they?"

Blanking your horrified look, she thought your question was genuine. Leading her into answering it with a smile, "Chastity Charms. We hand out the little hearts but not the key. That way, nobody can open the lock forever. And that's what keeps us safe."

"There ain't no way I'm wearing either of those, Mrs P. First of all, not my style. Secondly, I'm still gonna have sex. And finally, last I checked, people were neither a lock nor key."

"I think they're a great idea, Mrs Pillsbury," Rachel smiled, trying to butter up your slightly disappointed teacher.

"Kiss ass," you whispered over to her, to which she kicked you in your shin once more.

"But also, I had some questions. Somethings that I'm curious about."

"No, no, no. Why be curious? No." The guidance counsellor panicked, waving her hands about wildly. "Wait to have relations until you're comfortable, right? Maybe 'till your honeymoon. I don't know. Maybe even later. Celibacy. Dig it!"

"Okay," you replied to the woman slowly. Turning to your sister, you added, "You can just ask me. It's fine."

"Y/N, you're kinda out of the wheelhouse for my questions."

"Rachel, I literally know how to work a condom better than most of the straight guys here. Not only that, but Finn thought you could get AIDS from a cucumber. I'm your best bet. The first thing you need to know? Don't try any of the showerheads in our house. They suck-"

"Okay!" Mrs Pillsbury clapped her hands loudly, cutting your words off, as the other two looked at you, shocked. "Is there anything else someone would like to say?" she pressed, glancing from Quinn to Rachel, hoping to move the lesson in a different direction.

But that would not be the case for the pink-dressed woman.

"Yeah, I miss when Santana used to shake her ass in these things."

---

"Did Finn really think cucumbers could give you AIDS?" Rachel questioned as you exited the classroom while Quinn shot you a glare over her shoulder. The same look she had been giving you since your comment about Santana at the start of the meeting.

With a harsh sigh and an exhausted shake of the head, you said, "You don't know the half of it."

Earlier that same day, you had a Sex Ed class, subbed by one Holly Holliday. Pamphlet open in hand, as you skimmed through the text, knowing most of the stuff printed there anyway.

"Demonstration." The blonde raised a blue-wrapped condom up for the whole class to see. "This is a condom, which can help prevent the spread of H.I.V., which can lead to AIDS, and it also prevents pregnancy." Mirroring the sexual aid, she showed everyone a cucumber, obviously leading the class into the "practice" portion of the lesson.

Everything was going relatively normal for a lesson like this. That was until Finn voiced his fearful concerns.

"Wait. Cucumbers can give you AIDS?"

"You have got to be kidding me," you mumbled, shaking your head, "Just when I thought you couldn't be denser, Finn!"

"Seriously?" Mercedes added now, just as scared as the boy. "'Cause I just had them on my salad."

The pamphlet fell to the table as you dropped your head into your hands.

This school was a mess.

Most of the teachers were pretty much useless.

The students were as dumb as a box of rocks.

And practically everyone was insane.

And that only spanned outward to the entirety of the small town.

You were counting the days where you could pack your bags and leave.

They don't even know the basics of AIDS!

Not only that, but you were absolutely positive that you could work a condom better than any straight guy here.

---

Sometimes you forgot how much you loved spending time with Tina, even when Mike wasn't around. And even if it were something as simple as strolling through the hallways together in between classes.

You were midway through a sentence when you were interrupted by a third party joining your tiny group.

"-Oh my, God. Brittany's pregnant," Santana said, while the blonded passed through students behind you.

Jaw-dropping at the news, Tina repeated the Latina's words, "Oh my, God. Brittany's pregnant." To Lauren and Puck as they walked by.

"It was only a matter of time," the delinquent replied.

Finally pushing past your shocked state, you spoke, "Oh, God, not again! I'm not being there for the delivery of this one."

"Yeah, you don't want to pass out again," Santana sassed.

"Shut!"

Santana had mentioned that Brittany didn't want Artie to find out, but with the way gossip spread like wildfire in this school, even more so in the Glee Club. So, it wasn't all that surprising when you walked into the choir room later that day, only to find Artie looking completely mortified.

"All right, folks! Regionals is in a week. It's time to get deep into our set list," Mr Schue, late as usual, entered the room. Noticing the boy's look of despair himself, "Artie? You okay?"

"My life is over," the boy replied in a haze, "How am I supposed to support a baby?" Turning to his girlfriend, he asked, "How could you not tell me about this?"

"Wait. Brittany, are you pregnant?"

"Definitely. I am so sorry, Artie. I didn't wanna upset you."

Turning to Quinn, you whispered to her over the empty seat between you, "At least now you'll have someone to impark your wisdom on." Receiving a glare in return.

Smiling to yourself as you faced the so-called action once more, it soon dropped in favour of confusion and furrowed brows at Brittany's next words.

"I thought I could surprise you when I dropped him off. Pretty sure it's a boy."

"Um... babies don't get dropped off," Puck said, face blank, obviously having flashbacks from the year before.

Your face was quite the same, remembering all of the grizzly images you had tried to push to the back of your mind.

"No. No, they do not," you agreed, "They get pushed out. With all the screaming and the crying. And the blood, and the tearing, and the burning. Oh God, the burning."

"Wait, Brittany, have you been to a doctor yet?" Mr Schue asked, "I mean, that's the only way to be sure."

The girl pulled a face at that.

"I don't need to go to a doctor. I just need to look outside my window."

"Okay, what the hell is she on?" you asked the class.

"Three days ago, a stork built its nest on top of my garage. I'm not stupid. It's obviously getting ready to bring me, my baby." The club was stunned beyond belief. "I know where babies come from."

Slowly, you turned back to Quinn. "I take it back."

---

Another day. Another Glee Club meeting.

... another way for your teacher to traumatize you.

At the front of the class, in red marker, the man scrawled a singular word across the whiter board.

Reading it off as he spun on his heel to face his students.

"Sexy."

"Please, God, never say that again."

"Yeah," Santana agreed to your statement, chuckling softly from where she leaned forward against the piano, "Also, I really hope that's not one of the requirements for Regionals. Because with Berry in those tights, we don't stand a chance."

Glancing down at your jean-covered legs, you spoke out confusedly, "I'm not wearing any- Oooh! You meant the other Berry." Pointing over at your less-than-pleased sister. "Right. God cha."

"No. This isn't about Regionals." Mr Schue ignored the Latina's insult, instead pointing to the girl with the now capped marker, strutting his way over to the opposite side of the piano, and leaning against it. "I'm less worried about that right now and more worried about the fact that it has become clear to me that some of you have been lacking when it comes to understanding the... the uh... the intricacies of... adult relationships."

"So sex," you voiced flippantly, while nodding, in your seat behind Mike, "That or you're trying to give us some relationship counselling randomly, which, quite frankly, Mr Schue, you have no right giving."

The curly-haired man watched you silently for a few seconds, twiddling the red marker between his fingers.

"Thank you... Y/N." He quickly shook his head, getting back on track, moving to the centre of the choir room. "Yeah, anyways. Along with prepping for our Regionals next week, I wanna spend the week educating ourselves about some of these... intricacies."

"Mr Schue, I don't need this." You shook your head at the teacher. "I know about sex. I know how to do it. And I know how to do it well."

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Quinn shaking her head lightly and turning it away from you. Trying to hide the rosy blush staining at her cheeks from the class.

"Puckerman, however," you stressed, carrying on, gaining a glare from the boy, "He could use a lot of help. In fact, here's your first tip:" Turning to the delinquent, you spoke in an overly cheery tone, with a bright smile plastered along your face. Both obvious to everyone to be fake. "If you purposefully get a girl drunk just so you can sleep with her, is sexual assault, and you deserve jail time."

Mr Schuester didn't like the hostile atmosphere that was drastically building between the pair of you.

Which only grew with Puck's snarled retaliation.

"You're a dick."

"Okay, guys." The teacher waved. "Let's calm down, alright."

Outright ignoring his words, you leaned forward in your chair, closer to the boy.

"And you should have kept yours from where it didn't belong!"

"Okay! That's enough! I don't wanna hear another peep from the two of you," Mr Schue scolded, gesturing a finger between you and the boy. "Now..."

You threw your arms up into the air in exasperation as he moved back to the original lesson he had planned, furious by his blatant disregard for his students' safeties.

Glancing over, your eyes connected with the blondes whom you were obviously sticking up for. The corners of her lips twitched up momentarily in thank you for your protection, eyes warm and gleaming with the knowledge that she had someone like you fighting for her. She just hoped you always will.

Your sister, however, found this to be the perfect time to interrupt the man.

"Is this the appropriate forum for that?"

"Do you not know how many songs there are out there that are purely about sex, Rach. But yeah, I don't know how that will teach."

"Look, whenever we had, uh, issues in the past that are on our minds of giving us problems, it's always helped us to sing about it," he tried to reason against your and your sibling's criticisms, "So, this week I have invited a special guest. Miss Holliday!"

Your eyes lit up at the announcement of the well-loved substitute, cheering along with your friends.

Quinn, however, clapped for the older blonde courteously, remembering your flippant confession of "love" from the year prior. Jealously ebbing and flowing inside of her, which she internally rolled her eyes at herself, knowing that it was unwarranted.

"Hola, clase."

From the bottom row of seats, sitting right in front of Quinn and your sister, Mercedes spoke, "Oh, no. It's the salad lady."

"Okay, so sex." Your eyes widened slightly at how instant she brought the subject up once she stood at the foot of the class. But frankly, what more could you expect from Holly Holliday? "It's just like hugging, only wetter."

"And just like sneezing, only better," you added.

Waving his hand, Artie stated, "Yeah, it is."

"Okay, let's start with the basics. Finn? Is it true that you thought you got your girlfriend pregnant via hot tub?"

"I have always been dubious."

"'Idiotic' is also a good description."

Leaning over, the boy playfully shoved your knee, with a dopey smile on his face, as Mr Schue slammed his palm down onto the piano keys.

"And Brittany?" Miss Holliday strode over to the ex-Cheerio. "You think that storks bring babies?"

"I get my information from Woody Woodpecker cartoons."

At the girls' explanation and Mr Schue's, once again, obnoxious use of the piano, you muttered to yourself, "Oh, that makes so much sense."

"Well, that's all gonna end right here, right now. Because today, we are gonna get under the covers, all together, and get the ditty on the dirty."

"I'm so turned on right now," Puckerman breathed.

"I don't think that's legal," you called over to the woman.

Before she could reply to either the boy or yourself, Rachel cut in, "Uh, what those of us who choose to remain celibate?" Placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder momentarily, the blonde moved a hand of her own towards your sister, silently telling her not to touch her again.

"Oh, well, I admire you. Although I think you're naive and possibly frigid, I do admire your choice."

Feeling the build-up of a temper tantrum from the shorter Berry, the teacher rose to his feet and spoke, "I think this is a good time for a song."

"Oh! Yes, okay."

"Okay," the man chuckled as she got into position.

"Rule number one. Every intimate encounter you'll ever have is gonna start with a touch. Hit it!"

After the rock performance that eventually got everyone up and dancing... albeit slightly provocatively, along with Tina momentarily straddling you for the performance, much to the humour of Mike, Miss Holliday had a final thing to say.

"So, just remember, whenever you have sex with someone, you're having sex with everyone they've ever had sex with, and everybody's got a random."

"You mean that in an S.T.D. way, right?" you asked for the panting teens.

"Of course."

Then it dawned on you.

"Wait. Hold up, so that means I inadvertently "slept" with Puck?!"

"How would you have done that?" your sister asked. All the while, Quinn and Santana both watched you with that same fear in their eye.

Shrugging, you replied instantly, "I've had sex with Brittany." And Santanna... and Quinn...

"Yeah, you have." The blonde nodded.

"Nice," came from Artie, who reached over to fistbump you for previously sleeping with his girlfriend.

That may have been the most "guy" thing you had ever done.

---

Rachel and yourself both had a "home away from home" that was still within your home.

Hers was the basement. Where she would practice her singing on the small stage and her dance moves in the space before it.

Yours was the garage.

It used to be the living room. Where you would work on your homework, drag your games console down to plug into the big screen TV, and make comments about whatever was playing, much to the entertainment of your fathers.

Not that you still didn't do those things. You did.

But ever since you got your hands on the once run-down motorcycle, you had been spending the majority of your limited free time working on the vehicle.

Which is where you were at that very moment.

Haphazardly set upon the hard ground with only a cushion giving you any comfort, mechanical parts laid before you as you fiddled around with something to do with the engine you were still having trouble with. A book explaining everything you needed to know in front of you, on that Burt Hummel had graciously lent you.

The music playing throughout the room wasn't loud enough to block out the sound of the door opening, and two pairs of footsteps entered the garage.

You were far too focused on the object between your fingers to look up at what you assumed to be your parents coming in to grab something from the refrigerator.

But alas, you were wrong.

"Y/N, we need to talk to you."

Hiram spoke after his husband, long before you raised your head in curiosity, "Do you wanna tell us what these were doing in your room?"

"Oh, shit."

"'Oh, shit' is right," Hiram responded.

LeRoy, with his arms folded across his chest, began the questioning, "Do you want to tell us why we found a pair of underwear we know don't belong to you in your room?"

"I- Wait a second." You shook your head. "Why were you looking around my room?"

"We weren't," Hiram stated, "Your father was picking up your laundry basket, and there they were behind it."

"Well... oops?"

"'oops'?" LeRoy repeated, "That's all you can say about this?"

"Okay, okay, okay. I had a girl over when you were on the cruise."

You weren't about to tell them about the party.

"You don't say."

"What were you thinking?" LeRoy asked, gesturing his arms out towards you, jolting back from when his hand brushed the pair of panties.

"In the moment?" You scrunched up your face. "I don't think you want to know that."

"No, not-" he placed his palm against his face, sighing at your statement. "Not 'in the moment'. Inviting the girl over in the first place. Was sex even intended?"

You pointed towards your fathers. "In my defence, you said I was allowed a limit of three cheerleaders," you referenced the past joke you had shared with Hiram.

"Your father didn't mean that!"

"She was a cheerleader?"

"Well... she used to be. That counts, right?"

LeRoy's tone grew hard, sick of your joking attitude, "Y/N."

"Right. I'm sorry. I'll be serious. But no. We were just hanging out, and then... one thing lead to another, which lead to..." You gestured over to the garment hanging from Hiram's finger. "That."

LeRoy sighed. "Y/N..."

"Listen, I don't know why you're reacting like this. Like, I get that this is your house. I really do. But if this is just about me having sex, you can't really stop that, you know?"

"I know we can't."

It was Hiram's turn to grow serious. "We're not mad that you're having sex."

"Just me having sex in the house."

"No. It's safer here than anywhere else. And that's all we want for you. To be safe," Leroy spoke, "We would have just liked a heads up."

"You weren't here."

"That you were having sex," Hiram clarified, "We don't want to know all the nitty-gritty details. Just want to know what you're doing under our roof."

"I get that." You nodded, still feeling awkward about the situation. Especially with your father still holding onto Quinn's underwear, not that they knew that.

Speaking of...

Taking a step forward, your dad offered you the thin clothing.

"You should probably give those back to her."

"Okay. Thanks, dads, And hey," you called as they began exiting back into the main house, "Thanks... you know, for being so cool about all this."

"Of course." They nodded. "We love you."

"I love you, too."

Pausing in following his husband, Hiram leaned closer to you, once again, to ask, "Do we know her?"

"Dad!"

LeRoy quickly backpedalled at hearing that, grasping his husband's shirt, only to pull him out of the garage, throwing you an exasperated and apologetic look. Leaving you to chuckle breathlessly to yourself.

Now making their way to the kitchen, Hiram smirked at his shorter husband, "I bet it was Quinn. Finally."

"Oh, definitely."

---

Finally.

That was the only thing you could think as you watched Brittany and Santanna perform with Miss Holliday during the next Glee Club lesson in your seat beside Sam.

The look on Santana's face, one of longing, fighting against what she had been taught her whole life, and acceptance, told you everything you needed to know.

She was finally coming to terms with herself.

With who she truly was.

And she was pulling her love for Brittany along for the ride.

You couldn't help but feel proud of her.

With a happy smile and crossed arms, you watched as the two had a much-needed hug.

That was until it dropped into a confused expression as you peered over at the boy seated beside you, who had whispered to Artie.

"Pretty cool that our girlfriends are such good friends, right?"

Rolling your eyes to yourself, you thought, 'this boy has got to be fucking blind'

"Wish you and I were that close."

"Oh, do you now?" you scoffed a chuckle just before your sister spoke up.

"Can I just applaud this trio for exploring the uncharted world of sapphic charm? Brava. Brava."

You shook your head, quickly trying to get the girls at the front of the room not to react to Rachel's blatant insinuation, even if she didn't think so herself.

"'Uncharted'? I have the map of sapphic char. Just ask any girl I've fooled around with."

However, it was of no use.

"Look, just because I sang a song with Brittany doesn't mean you can put a label on me. Is that clear?"

Slowly, you turned to glare over youse shoulder at your sister. Swiftly gesturing to the girls, silently letting her know what she did was fucked.

Later that day, you were forced to attend another celibacy club meeting. Now with one additional member.

Noah Puckerman.

The delinquent boy, bracketing your sister between you on her left side.

The gavel hit its plate, signalling the beginning of yet another boring hour of your life.

"This meeting of the celibacy club will now come to order." Before we begin, I'd like to start by congratulating you, by reminding you not one member of this club had an unwanted pregnancy in almost a year. You get tensies for menses."

"Oh, that was so backhanded," you told the ginger woman after snorting at her words.

"What?" she asked, panicked, "No. No, it wasn't," she finished worriedly, not realising what she had truly said.

Peering over to the blonde, you ticked your eyebrows up at her, silently asking if she were okay, only to receive a subtle nod back in return.

Continuing the mute conversation, you shook your head in reference to the woman, to which Quinn playfully rolled her eyes back at you.

However, your moment was cut short by Mrs Pillsbury continuing on, after awkwardly clearing her throat, "I'd also like to welcome our newest member, Noah Puckerman."

"Are you lost, Noah?" Rachel snarked before you had the chance to.

"Yeah, you don't belong here," Quinn added, "You're the biggest French whore of them all."

"I don't even belong here." You shot a pointed glare over at your sister.

Quinn's statements thrust the boy into an explanation.

"Zizes and I were gonna make a sex tape. But I found out that making that tape would have resulted in my arrest."

"Oh, you don't say."

"I've hit rock bottom and I've come here to set myself straight."

"You're gay? Is it with Finn?"

Puckerman opened his mouth to retaliate and probably start a fight in front of the school's guidance counsellor.

But said woman spoke up before he could.

"That's just awesome, Noah. And you're just in time because tomorrow the girls, Y/N, and I are gonna perform a song for Glee Club, extolling the benefits of celibacy."

"Wait. We're what now?" you questioned.

"I'm down for that." Puck nodded. "Point of order, though. While three chicks and me is just a typical Saturday night in the Puckerman bedroom, not including Y/N-"

"Thank God."

"It's not the best balance for singing. We need at least one more dude."

"I've got that covered," she stated.

"What song are we singing?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked-"

This was gonna be a shit show.

---

When the next day ticked by, you were sat in the auditorium, waiting along with the rest of the Glee Club for the Celibacy Club's "anti-sex" performance.

"Aren't you a part of the Celibacy Club?" Tina asked, sitting down beside you.

"Don't remind me."

"Shouldn't you be up there singing with them?" Mike asked, leaning around his girlfriend to see you.

"I should. But I opted out."

Tina shook her head curiously. "Why?"

"Well, firstly, I didn't even want to be in the club in the first place. And second... I have sense."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see."

Just then, the -rest of the- club, its leader, and her husband walked onto the stage wearing something that looked like they should be attending an extremely religious country fair.

"Oh God, it's worse than I imagined," you whispered to yourself, it barely being heard by the couple by your side.

Throughout the whole performance, you laughed silently, so much so that it grew almost painful, with tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

You and Brittany were the only ones cheering for the group. The girl unironically, and yourself for how downright hilarious it was.

"Hi." Holly raised her hand, gathering the attention of the club president. "Um, Holly here. So, I'm- I'm a little confused. Isn't this a strange song for the... the Celibacy Club to sing?"

"But why?" Emma chuckled, "It's so wholesome." You snorted at that. She really didn't pay attention to the lyrics. "It was written during the Bicentennial to celebrate America and fireworks."

Quinn was ignoring the woman, too busy focusing upon you, with a suspicious glare, still recovering from the silent laughing fit.

It was with Miss Holliday's next words that it all came crashing down on her.

"No, it's about sneaking out for a nooner."

"Yes! Exactly!" The ginger agreed. "A nooner's when you have desert in the middle of the day, right? Right, Carl?"

"No. It's when you have sex��in the middle of the day," you informed.

Quinn spoke to you then.

"You knew about this, didn't you? That's why you're not up here."

"No," you lied obviously, "No, Not at all."

"Well, regardless," Mr Schue spoke up, "It was a great job, guys. Great number."

With Holly Holliday clapping along with him.

"It was fantastic."

"Hey," you called out to the club on stage, looking directly at the blonde you teased, "You know, since you sang about it, I would happily show you what an "afternoon delight" is really like."

You gained a few chuckles from your friends thanks to your playful flirting as you watched the girl with knowing eyes.

Quinn shook her head pointedly at you.

"Not in a million years."

"So, in a million and one, it is then!" You called after her as she walked to exit the stage while Mr Schuester began ushering the rest of the kids out of the auditorium.

However, you quickly broke away from the team to meet a certain blonde backstage. Sister storming past you without a single word.

Once she spotted you, the girl pointed a finger your way. "I'm pissed at you."

"Oh, and when I come baring gifts, too."

A single blonde brow ticked up at that, "'Gifts'?" she repeated incredulously.

"Well... more so a returnal."

As soon as you stood in front of her, you pulled her light pink panties out from your back pocket.

Quinn gasped, quickly snatching the garment from your grasp.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Do I not get any thanks? My dad's found them behind my laundry basket."

Somehow, her eyes grew wider at that, another gasp escaping her pink lips.

"Your dads saw?"

"They brought them down to me in the garage. Lemme tell you, we had one hell of an awkward conversation thanks to these," you finished, pointing down to Quinn's clenched fist.

"Oh my, God, I can't believe your parents saw my underwear."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, they didn't know they were yours."

"You know, surprisingly, it doesn't."

With a laugh, you pulled the girl into your chest, trying to hug the embarrassment away.

"You've gotta take these back," she said, thrusting her fist back towards you to take her underwear.

"What? As some sort of souvenir or something?" You smirked brightly.

"No," Quinn spoke clearly, "I don't have any pockets. Put these in your lockers, and I'll get them tomorrow."

"Uh. No." You shook your head, quick to speak before the girl could snap back at you angrily. "What if a teacher randomly searches my locker and finds them, huh?" Quinn looked down, knowing you were right, but still, you took the underwear out of her fist, pushing it deep into your front pocket. "How about I walk you to your car, and you can put them in your glove box or something?"

"I could probably take them myself if that's the case."

"It's less suspicious if they're in my pocket and not your clenched fist and anyway." You shrugged. "We wouldn't be able to have a little "afternoon delight" in the backseat of your car."

She shoved your chest lightly at that, nose scrunched up in a playful sneer.

"I already told you, "not in a million years"."

"Then those million years must have ended last week."

"Would you stop going on about that?" she laughed, a blush working its way across her cheeks.

With a smirk, you shook your head, "Not in a million years."

Suddenly, you remembered that the girl you were flirting with wasn't single. But that wasn't all. Her boyfriend just so happened to be your best friend.

Quinn's brows furrowed for a second at your sudden change in emotion, watching as you cleared your throat and fidgeted in place.

"I'll uh... let me walk you to your car." You raised your hands in surrender. "I promise no funny business."

"What's up with you?"

"What?"

She gestured to you. "You just like changed. You were being all playful and flirty, but you stopped. What happened?"

"I uh..." A sigh. "You're seeing Finn. I shouldn't be flirting with you so much."

"I'm not seeing Finn."

"But-"

"Well... i-it's complicated. Finn doesn't want to hurt Rachel, so it's... we're dancing around the situation."

You nodded in understanding.

"So, does that mean the nooner is still on the table?"

She shoved your shoulder. "It was never on the table."

Quinn Fabray talked a big game and everything, but she didn't always see it through.

Which is how you found yourself on top of the blonde in the back seat of her car while it was still parked in the school parking lot. Her long patterned skirt rode up to her hips, with you residing between her thighs while you made out with the girl. Her soft hands caressed your scalp, hair between her fingers, as your own palms travelled down her body to the side of her bare thigh.

Before anything could go any further -or your hand could travel any higher- she shoved you in your chest, pushing you away from her lips and body.

"We can't do this. We have to stop," she gasped, "I'm not gonna go any further with you while we're in the back of my car."

"And by "any further" you mean "have sex"." You smiled cockily, rearing back with your arm sprawled out across the back of the seats, watching as Quinn sat up, manoeuvring her skirt back down her legs.

"Yes. I'm not going to sleep with you, without being drunk, in our school's parking lot, of all places."

"Good to know you think about us having sex when not under the influence." You smirked. "Pray do tell, what do you have planned?"

"I don't have one," she stated, "But if I did, privacy and a bed." You laughed at that as she began pushing you out of her red Volkswagon Beetle so that she could drive home.

Once you were out of the vehicle, you seamlessly offered the girl her panties, which she snatched out of your hand again, flicking them onto her passenger seat before anyone could see.

"Those Celibacy Club meetings are really doing nothing for you, are they?" you asked, bending down to fold your arms across her open window.

"We didn't have sex," Quinn countered with a roll of her eyes.

"But you're thinking about it," you flirted, voice taking on a more husky tone as you leaned in to playfully kiss her.

But before you could, she pushed you away with a palm to the face, and then she drove away while you waved mockingly at her.

"I'll see you at the next Celibacy Club meeting, Fabray!"

Once her car was out of sight, you couldn't help but feel the weight of dread at how she would push you away next.

---

You never expected this to be the next Celibacy Club meeting.

With your sister leading the fray, sitting in your guidance counsellor's usual seat, banging the gavel to alert the start of the lesson.

Not to mention the extra club members.

"I hereby call the Celibacy Club to order."

"Where's Mrs Pillsbury?" Puck asked, glancing your sister up and down, Zizes in the seat beside him. Followed by Arite and Brittany. The couple stole the seat's you usually occupied, leading you to take to one to Quinn's right. As Santana and Sam sat across from your sister.

"She decided to take the hour she was spending here to use it to fix her sham of a marriage," she notified, "In the interim, I'll be taking over."

"Because you annoyingly take over everything?"

"Yes," you scoffed at Santana's words.

Rachel rolled her eyes at you and the girl.

"Because..." her gaze shifted, trying to find the right thing to say. "I realise that while all of us making our celibacy pledge is wonderful-"

"I made no such pledge."

"-One day we're gonna fall in love with someone, and we're gonna choose to be intimate with them."

As she spoke, you tried to stop your graze from travelling towards the blonde by your side. Failing expenensiously. Only to meet her own hazel eyes glancing at you before you both returned your attention to your sister.

"Does that mean I don't have to be here anymore?" you questioned jokingly, getting ready to push yourself out of your seat.

"No, Y/N," Rachel scolded dryly, making you drop back into the chair with a huff, folding your arms across your chest, a pout forming at your lips.

Quinn rubbed your shoulder momentarily in comfort before her hands returned to be folded upon the table just as Puckerman turned her way, lips upturned in an arrogant smirk.

"Speaking of being intimate, what's with the hickey, Quinn?"

"It's not a hickey." You cocked your head, leaning down closer to the dark table, to see a circular bruise marking her skin, high up on her neck. Your jaw ticked at that. You sure as hell didn't leave a hickey on her when you were making out yesterday, which could only mean one thing: She had seen someone after you. Jealousy wracked your body as you turned to look straight ahead of you. That dread you had felt the day before proven true in one of the worst possible ways.

"Oh, I know hickeys," Puck countered, "I'm a freaking connoisseur. I can make them into shapes, like balloon animals.

"I burnt myself this morning with a curling iron." Quinn leaned towards the boy sitting at the table across from you, trying to solidify her point.

"You should be careful with those things," you said tightly, meeting the blonde's eyes. Reading them instantly. You didn't need to ask who had given it to her. There was only one person who would. Finn. "It hurts when they burn you."

"And how would you know, Y/N?" Santana asked, trying to cut the tension and pull you away from the feelings the girl by your side was bringing up in you.

"A burn is a burn." You shrugged, "I doubt it could be worse than the back of your arm connecting with a hot iron."

"I'm surprised that it didn't scar," Rachel said, remembering the day you did that.

"The key is to use the curling iron in the bathtub to keep you from getting brunt," Brittany tipped her once cheer captain.

"No."

"No," Lauren and yourself uttered. The wrestler shook her head as you continued speaking, "If you do that and you drop it, it won't be called a curling iron anymore. It would be your last ever bath bomb... or a 'killing iron'."

"Would it fizz?"

"No. It would electrify the water and kill you." The ditzy girl's eyes widened in shock at that information. "Please don't use plugged-in stuff while you're in the bath, okay?"

Once she nodded in agreement with you, you grasped your bag, sliding your chair out from under you as you stood.

"Where are you going?" Rachel asked hastily.

"I'm gettin' the hell out of here. If Quinn can get a hickey, I can sure as hell give one."

"It's not a hickey!" she called after you as you exited from the room, feeling the jealousy she had no right to feel bubble up inside of her at the thought of you being with another woman.

She knew she was wrong to string you along like she was, but everything felt like it was out of her control, and she had to do whatever she needed to, to not let her secret get out there in the wide world.

Little did she know that in less than a year, her secret wouldn't matter so much to her, after all.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Updates!!

Berry Blues

Season Two Release Dates

First Quarter

Part One - (Audition) You Gotta Love Blackmail

Part Two - (Britney/Brittany) There’s Drugs. And There’s Whatever the Hell That Is

Part Three - (Grilled Cheesus) All Hail The Purple Dwarf!

Part Four - (Duets) So. Many. Catholic. Jokes

Part Five - (Rocky Horror Glee Show) The Tale of The Creepy Teacher

Second Quarter

(Alternative names will be added soon)

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Part Seven - (The Substitute) Random Confessions of Love

Part Eight - (Furt) It’s a Nice Day For a Black and Blue Wedding

Part Nine - (Special Education) Fuckin’ Relationship Drama

Part Ten - (A Very Glee Christmas) To Keep Santa Alive

Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) It’s All About Football

Third Quarter

Part Twelve - (Silly Love Songs) In Sickness and in Love

Part Thirteen - (Comeback) New Trends and Traumatised Attraction

Part Fourteen - (Blame it on the Alcohol) The First Time

8/3/23 – Part Fifteen - (Sexy) The Case of the Pink Panties

15/3/23 – Part Sixteen - (Original Song) Trouty Mouth!

Fourth Quarter

(TBA)

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Fourteen - (Blame it on the Alcohol) The First Time

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: With Alcohol Awareness Week came the exact opposite of what your school wanted for the pupils within. A party where every underage member would be getting drunk out of their minds, which only lead to the domino effect that was the Alcohol Awareness Assembly.

Word Count: 11,525

WARNINGS: Threats, underage drinking, Rachel “The Cockblock” Berry, descriptions of hangover(s), one night stand, biphobia, slight angst, Kurt being a dick, talks of sex, vomiting, jealous Quinn, fluff, talks of alcoholism, flirting

(A/N): Right, so it’s finally here! Sorry for the delay, palls. What with the holiday season, getting sick, getting busy, getting sicker, I’ve been having a tough time keeping up with everything. That being said, I’m afraid I will have to push the other two parts back until an undetermined time. Just until like gets back on track for me.

-----

It was nearing the end of the day, and you were forced into the dimly lit choir room by your sister, awaiting her special guest so that she could perform her originally-written song. Because she just couldn't let that idea go, not that you're surprised.

"What's up, my hot little Jewish-American princess? And Y/N."

"Always a pleasure, Puckerman," you said, watching as the boy moved to take the seat beside your sister at the piano. While you leaned against the large instrument.

"What do you want, Puckerman?"

"Word on the street is that your dads are out of town. And you're all alone in your house."

"I swear to Lucifer, if you're trying to get in her pants right now, you'll be going through the windows of Mr Schue's office," you seethed, fire behind your eyes as you glared at the boy. Watching as he shot his hands up in surrender, fear filling his own eyes at your threat.

"They are on the Rosie O'Donnell cruise," Rachel stated, "Wait, who told you that?"

"Sure as hell weren't me."

"It's the kind of information a guy like me tends to know. So, uh... party this Saturday? I'll bring the beer ball. It's a mini-keg."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What? I can't get a full-sized one."

"That's not what I was talking about."

"Yeah, forget it, Puck," Rachel added.

"Come on, just the Glee kids," the delinquent said, getting up from the bench to stand opposite you on the piano, "We're losing our minds. All stressed about Sectionals and stuff."

"Regionals," your sister corrected, "Besides, you just want a place to have sex and get drunk." She couldn't help but cringe at that.

"Yeah. There's a word for that, a party."

"No- No. No, our dads they left us alone in the house because they trusted us to be responsible."

"They left you alone because you suck and are a total bore."

"Watch it, Puckerman," you warned.

"-And Y/N doesn't like parties." You glared at him as he left, just as Finn entered the room, greeting each other in passing.

"How's the songwriting going?"

"Hey. It's going amazing." Rachel rushed to get up, gushing to her ex-boyfriend, as you mouthed over her shoulder, 'help me', in reference to her song. "Which is why I wanted you to come by. I wanted you to hear it."

'Run', you mouthed over to him, once again. Before your attention was pulled to Brad sitting at the piano, out of the corner of your eye. "Do you just like hang around here, waiting for people to start singing."

The man shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Oh, yeah, cool," Finn finally said, not heeding your prior warning.

"Come here."

You watched as the two shared a hug, with an uncomfortable cringe on your face.

"Oh, that's awkward," you mumbled to yourself, Brad catching it and nodding in agreement.

"What was that for?"

"To break the tension. We- We were boyfriend and girlfriend, Finn. It's silly for us to pretend like we aren't comfortable around each other."

"I'm uncomfortable right now."

"Yeah, totally."

"And I know that we have some unresolved feelings, but, like my two new role models, Carol King and Gerry Goffin, I think it's important that we just put them aside and stay focused on our mission which is just to write an amazing song to win Regionals with."

"Which I still think is a bad idea," you gave your input.

"Well, I have no idea who those people are."

"You and me both, brother."

Finn shot you a dopey smile over Rachel's head before turning back to her. "But, uh, I'm on board. Let's hear it."

"It's just a little rough," she warned the boy.

'It's a lot rough'

"But, uh... I think it's really special."

Doing what you had grown used to the past week, you dazed off blankly, allowing your sister's song to wash over you and far, far away.

However, Finn soon came to your rescue.

"Uh, hold- Hold on."

"Oh, thank God," you breathed.

"Is this song about your headband?"

"Yes," Rachel stated, "It's called 'My Headband'."

"Right."

"I told you to run," you leaned forward to whisper to the tall boy.

"They say you should write what you know."

"That's a bullshit saying anyway." You shrugged. "How do you explain 'Dracula'? You think Bram Stoker was a flippin' vampire?"

"Well, anyway, it uh, it's really..." Finn searched his brain for the right descriptor. "Interesting. But it's not emotional of, like, good."

"It sucks."

"Yeah."

"I could have told you that. No. In fact, I did tell you that," you said with your arms folded across your chest. Turning to your friend, you continued, "There were worse first drafts if you could believe it."

"Y/N!" your sister yelped, scolding you for embarrassing her in front of her ex-boyfriend, who she was still hung up on, no matter her denial. With a sigh, she wondered, "How am I supposed to write a song like Jodi Mitchell of Carole King? They've lived."

"Well, maybe if you want to be an artist like them, you should do a little living," the boy offered with a shrug, standing to his full height.

"You're so right. I mean, even now, it's Alcohol Awareness Week, and we're supposed to sing about the dangers of drinking, and I've never even had a drink."

"Wait, seriously?" Finn smiled, "That's why I never got past second base."

Swiftly, you smacked him around the head, hard enough for him to wince and rub at the offending area, while muttering an apology to you. While Rachel rounded him, heading to one of the room's many exits.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To find Puckerman."

Your eyes widened at that, putting two and two together.

"Oh, God, please no."

"-You know, my journey from little princess to "natural woman" begins this Saturday night. At my house."

"I don't think you understand how sexual that sounded!"

---

That Saturday night, you were in your room getting dressed, having just finished an extra shift at your work, when the door sounded with three knocks.

"Y/N!"

"I got it!" you yelled back, agitated by your sistered shout, rushing down the stairs to open the door, "Hey, guys," you greeted Finn, Kurt, and Blane, leading them through your home to the entrance of your basement, where your sister was waiting. Right by that painting of her, that haunted your nightmares.

"Welcome. Kurt. Blane."

"Do you have one of those?" Blane questioned, pointing to the oil painting.

"Nope. My parents keep booking for me to have it done, but I keep finding excuses for them to push it back. I told them that if I don't get a sword and a horse in it, I'm not having it done."

The boys laughed at your ways around not having an oil painting of your own, while Rachel stated, "Wasn't expecting you guys."

Finn was the one to explain, "Kurt's been blackmailing me ever since he saw my browser history. He kind of insisted on me coming."

"Dude, what type of weird porn are you watching?" you joked, bringing up the rear of the last of the partygoers.

"I'm totally off the clock right now, Rachel," Blane explained, taking off his scarf and coat, "I'm not a Warbler. I'm just Blane. I'm not even wearing my uniform."

"I'd be worried if you were, considering it's Saturday."

Blane pointed your way. "Exactly."

"So, this is your dads' Oscar room," Kurt said.

"Yes. They transformed our ordinary basement for our famous annual Oscar parties."

"Is that a stage?" Blane asked, pointing to the thing Mercedes and Lauren were sitting on, with Quinn hanging close by.

"I like to give impromptu performances for our neighbours sometimes."

The smile you pulled was both fake and painful looking as you turned to Blane to inform him, "I'm adopted."

"Yeah, that kinda makes sense."

Your sister gasped happily behind you, making you peer over your shoulder, only to see her talking to Quinn. "Hey, girlfriend. Having fun?"

"Yeah, " Quinn said, as Santana and Sam made out on a chair behind her, "Awesome party."

"You don't gotta lie to her like that," you said when the blonde walked by you, leaning her arms against the bar, trying to ignore her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend behind her.

"O-okay. Let's, uh... let's go over the rules."

"Rules?" you asked sceptically, wondering what the hell you had missed while you were both at work and getting changed out of your dirt-covered clothes.

"Everybody gets two drink tickets to keep things from getting out of hand," she explained, handing the boys their hot pink tickets.

"Drink tickets. Really, Rach? What is this, a wedding?"

"We don't want things to get out of hand."

"Aha." You folded your arms across your chest, waiting for her to continue.

"We are serving wine coolers today. That is our speciality drink. It's actually all we have..." Rachel didn't notice the boys walking from her presence, nor you shaking your head at them at your sister's antics.

"See, this is why I should have been involved in the prep. But no!" You shot your hands into the air. "She said she could handle it herself."

"Brittany! Remember the rules. No sitting on anything."

Looking over, you spotted the girl sitting upon your family's dryer, looking utterly bored.

"Oh, leave her alone." You waved the blonded actions off, turning to your sister, gesturing to said machine, "I've fucked-" You grew quiet then, everyone's attention on you now, including your sister's. Who seemed angry and ready to snitch and tell your fathers if need be. "You know what, maybe you're right. Actually. Nobody should sit on anything." You waved around the room. "Including the furniture... especially the bar," you finished, pointing over your shoulder at the surface, making Quinn remove herself from it with an almost mortified, angered look.

"You're a slut," Santana called over to you with a knowing smile.

"Oh, you bet I am," you smiled happily. Not wanting it any other way.

"O-okay," Rachel spoke, moving on from your words, with a light shake of her head, raising her pink wine cooler into the air, "Okay, everybody. Cheers!"

"Great party, Rachel," Artie lied to the girl, fake praise dropping as he continued, "We gotta run."

"Take me with you."

"Yeah, dinner reservations," Tina tried to excuse to the disappointed girl.

Stuttering over her words, she tried to convince them to stay, "But we haven't even played celebrity yet."

"You know, you may have been named after Rachel, but you sure are a Monica."

"W-why's everybody leaving?" your sister whispered over to Finn, still loud enough for others to hear.

Taking it upon himself to answer, about ready to leave himself, puck replied, "Because this party blows."

"But- But..." Rachel looked your way. Disheartened and just wanting some support, hoping that you would jump to her defence.

But her hope was for nought.

"Oh, don't look at me." You shook your head, pointing over to the group getting ready to leave... and Puckerman. "I agree with them."

"I haven't even had my first sip yet. How am I supposed to write "Both Sides Now" if I can't even throw a party?" she questioned to no one in particular. Turning from everyone at the front of the basement, tension rolled off her shoulders as she paused momentarily before spinning back to Finn and Puck.

"Look, if you want everyone to stay, you have to let me break into your dads' liquor cabinet. No one's gonna get buzzed off two wine coolers."

"You know how much the stuff in there is worth, Puck?"

"I'll replace it before they get home."

Rolling your eyes at the mohican boy, you countered his argument, "You couldn't even bring that mini-keg of yours. How are you gonna replace that stuff?"

Rachel contemplated his suggestion for a few moments before looking to you almost for your permission- Or input, you weren't sure.

Giving a shrug, you raised your hands, not wanting anything to do with it. She said she could throw a party herself, so that's exactly what she was going to do.

"This is your choice. And you will be the one taking the blame if anything happens or doesn't happen." You finished by looking pointedly over to Puckerman, who just rolled his eyes at your -valid- distrust towards him.

Processing your words, and after receiving a soft nod from Finn, Rachel raised her drink high once more, voice wavering out of nervousness, "Let's party!"

Those were the magic words.

However, it seemed that they weren't enough.

Growing impatient, you strode over to where Finn, Puck and Mike were gathered around your father's liquor cabinet, muttering between themselves.

"What's takin' so long? We're gonna end up finishing the wine coolers before we get any good booze."

Agitated, Puck looked at you over his shoulder, gesturing to the lock with the bobby pin between his fingers. "The lock's really hard to break, okay?"

You hummed, nodding to the boy as he turned back to his task at hand.

"I don't know," you stated, reaching over for the lamp, sitting beside the many martini glasses, lifting it, and scooping up the thing underneath, "Maybe it would be easier to use the key."

Puckerman couldn't believe what you were holding directly in front of his face.

A twinkling, silver key.

"You let me try to pick this lock for five minutes when you knew where the key was?" he asked, backing away, allowing you to open the cabinet.

"Hey, I tried. But you said that you've broken into liquor cabinets hundreds of times before. Or were you just compensating for something, huh?" You backhanded his crotch, making him groan, while you turned to walk back to the bar, vodka bottle in hand.

"How did you know where the key was?" Mike smiled, jogging up beside you, as Finn made sure Puck was okay.

You shrugged. "I live here. Also, I've been breaking into it since I was fourteen." You pointed his way. "Don't tell Rachel. She's a total nark. Especially when it comes to this stuff."

"She'll hear nothing from me."

"Okay, who wants real alcohol?!" you called, raising the bottle high into the air, gaining cheers in return.

A few hours and a mass amount of red cups later, almost everyone was drunk. Some more than others. But still drunk.

The music was loud, and people were dancing.

You were one of them.

Standing upon the dark wood of your coffee table, dancing haphazardly beside Mike.

You knew you were drunk. You just didn't think you were as drunk as you actually are. Which was proven thanks to when you stumbled from the table and onto the plush rug underneath. Almost colliding with Quinn, who was massing with a table beside Zizes.

"Woah, sorry." Looking at the blonde's face, you spotted the new addition sitting on her face. Lauren's oversized glasses. Which, you couldn't lie, looked good on her. And thanks to the alcohol flowing through your system, she knew too, "Hey, you suit glasses. Like you look really hot with them." Curse your drink-induced tongue.

"You're not too bad on the eyes, either," she flirted back, holding the plastic cup up by her face, the liquid within giving her the courage to do so, even in front of others.

"When you're wearing glasses that you probably don't need, I don't think that's a compliment."

Swiftly, the blonde pulled the glasses from her face Puckerman, quick to pluck them from her fingers and wear them himself as he danced around you and the girl on his way to his current crush.

"Yeah," she uttered, looking you up and down, "Definitely not bad on the eyes."

Before you could flirt back, chanting filled the basement.

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Peering over, you found your sister downing one of the many leftover wine coolers. Only to cheer and throw your arms into the air when she finished the drink.

After burping into the pink rhinestone-encrusted microphone, she yelled, "It tastes like pink. It tastes like pink! Pink!"

With a laugh at your sister's drunken state, you turned back, expecting to find the blonde still there after cheering Rachel on with you, but was sorely mistaken. Only to be met with an empty space where she once was. Checking over your shoulder, you found her almost swaying as she headed towards the orange sofa, or maybe she was just moving along to the music, like many of your other friends. It seems Quinn grew easily distracted in her alcohol-induced state.

Shrugging to yourself, you moved to dance with Mike to the music playing once more, busting out laughing with every silly move you made. But not long later, you found yourselves heading towards Mercedes and Tina, wanting to know what they were cracking up at on the other side of the room.

Little did you know, at the stage, your sister was getting a lesson on drunk archetypes.

Now, that's something they don't teach in schools.

"Guys and girls fall into certain archetypes when they get drunk," Finn explained to the drunk girl hanging all over him, waving his hands about as he spoke. Soon gesturing over to his first point. "Exhibit 'A': Santana. The "weepy, hysterical" drunk."

His description of the girl was accurate, to say the least. Because, at that moment, she was pointing and yelling at her blonde boyfriend, mascara pooled below her eyes as she cried.

"You like her more than me! She's blonde and awesome and so smart," she listed, obviously describing Sam's ex-girlfriend, who he was still hung up on after she broke his heart. If you were close by, you would have undoubtedly said something to point out how gay that sounded and like she was fawning over her ex-cheer captain. But alas, you weren't, so the girl was free to continue her weepy anguish. "Admit it. Just admit it." All the while, her boyfriend looked like he wanted to be anywhere but dealing with her in that state, looking around for help, which panicked the girl, quickly pulling him into her embrace, "No. Kiss me."

Moving onto his next "exhibit", Finn continued, "Lauren Zizes and Quinn, the "Anger girl" drunks."

At the other side of the room, in front of that same orange couch, stood three people. The two aforementioned girls and Puckerman.

Quinn and Lauren rounded him like he was wounded prey, and they were the predators in a wildlife documentary.

It was the blonde who had her outburst first.

"I can't believe what you did to my body. I used to have abs!"

Just like with Santana, if you were near enough and not distracted by your own little group of friends, you would undoubtedly be there, ready to give her as many compliments and kind words she needed to make her smile once more.

As she walked away, Zizes took that as her turn to ridicule the boy in her drunken state.

"Who told you that hairstyle was cool, Geronimo?"

"Chill out!" Puckerman tried to defend himself.

"Brittany," Finn continued to list, "Also known as the "girl who turns into a stripper" drunk."

No longer sitting upon the dryer, Brittany stood dancing for her boyfriend in nothing but her shorts, bra, and thigh-high boots. Swinging her shirt around.

The boy, who had obviously been digging through your sister's box of props and stage clothes, looked ridiculous as he threw dollar bills at the girl.

"Making it rain! Whoo! That's my girlfriend. I love you, baby."

"Mercedes and Tina, the "happy girl" drunks."

Upon the brown patterned sofa, before Mike and yourself, sat the two girls laughing hysterically at something the boy said. Tina repeatedly slapped Mercedes' thigh as the girl cackled.

"Bonus," Finn added, "Y/N, the "turns into a comedian" drunk,"

Harshly swallowing around the gulp of alcohol in your mouth, you continued your joke for the awaiting girls. With Mike's hand upon your shoulder, waiting intently for the punchline.

"And then- Then he turned to me and said, "what's between your legs?" I told him, "your mom's head"!"

"And then we come around full circle, right back to you. Rachel. And right now, you're being the "needy girl" drunk," he told the shorter Berry, whose cheek was pressed against his shoulder, basking in the presence of her ex-boyfriend, "Hanging all over me, being overly lovey. It's not cool."

Removing herself from his body, Rachel drunkenly pat his shoulder, moving closer to his face, "blessing" him with her strong alcohol breath, to ask, "Well, what kind of girl is that?" With the contents of her red cup dripping down her chin and her arms spread wide, she shouted to her friends filling the basement, gaining cheers from them, "Let's spin the bottle. Who wants to play spin the bottle? Spin the bottle."

It was an easy decision for you to opt-out of the game. Instead, while everyone gathered around in a haphazard circle, you sat in the chair behind your sister. The other two not joining in on the kissing game being Santana and Quinn.

The blonde sat not too far away from you, and the Latina hung out at the bar with a drink in hand.

Everyone spectated as Brittany spun the empty wine cooler bottle, only for it to land upon Sam Evans.

"You know what?" Santana called over, finger raised in warning, to the group, "A reminder: I owns that guppy mouth. Those trouty Aerosmith lips belong to me, so..."

You were so drunk that your brows furrowed in an almost studying expression as you watched the two blonded kiss. But still, you had enough wherewithal to peer over your shoulder to make sure the boys' ex was okay, only to find her watching the two with sad eyes.

Reaching behind you as best you could, you grasped her calf, rubbing into the soft skin underneath, trying to comfort her, gaining a soft smile in return as Sanatana reached over to separate the two.

"You know what this is not? Hey, honeys? It's not a Big Red commercial. No me gusta."

"Oh, I agree with Santana," your voice began to take on a dopey, slurred sound, "I don't wanna see that."

Rachel threw her arms up right after, blanking your words entirely.

"Whoo! Party. My turn. It's my turn."

You groaned, flinging your head back as the noise of glass spinning against the wooden checkerboard filled the room, "I definitely don't wanna see that!"

At the intense cheering and Kurt's playful words, you lifted your head to see what was going on.

"This is outstanding!"

Only to find your sister pointing to Kurt's crush.

"Blane Warbler, I'm gonna rock. Your. World."

You laughed at that, just glad that you weren't about to watch her kiss anybody who might try to sleep with her at the end of the night.

"Stop egging them on!" You smiled at your friends, playful in their cries for the two to deepen the kiss, "I don't wanna see my sister make out with anybody, gay or not."

When the kiss had gone on for a little while, and Kurt could no longer take seeing that right in front of his face, he clapped his hands, hoping to get the two to pull away.

"Okay, I think we've had enough of that!"

"I know I have," you called, continuing to cackle, "But get used to it, Rach. He's not the only gay guy you're gonna kiss in your life!"

Finally pulling away, Rachel told the boy, "Your face... tastes awesome," turning to the watching crowd, she yelled, "I think I just found a new duet partner!"

"Oh God, please don't start singing."

And so led to yet another Rachel Berry performance in your basement.

Taking up refuge upon the brown chair, you watched as the two sang upon the stage, bouncing energetically to the music. Too drunk to notice the look Quinn and Finn both shared.

However, as you took a sip of your strong drink, your eyes found the couples adorning the room. Tina and Mike danced erratically before moving into a make-out session. While Brittany and Santana parked themselves on their respective boyfriends' laps, kissing them. And you suddenly felt lonely in a room filled with your friends. Hell, even Puckerman and Lauren seemed to be affectionate with each other.

So, it was only natural how your eyes travelled to the blonde who had ensnared your heart.

With a wave of your hand towards her thigh, you caught the girl's attention.

Making a grabbing motion, you silently asked for her hand. Which she gave to you, no questions asked, allowing you to lead her towards you, settling her on your lap so that she was sitting sideways, with one arm thrown over the back of the chair. The other held her cup on her lap, yours beside it, as your free hand moved to hold her waist.

The alcohol in her system truly threw her fears and inhibitions out of the window.

"How you doin' with everything?"

"I'm heartbroken and it's all I deserve."

Jutting out your bottom lip in a pout, hand travelling to rub up and down her back while she leaned into you, playing with the short tresses of the back of your hair.

"I don't like it when you're sad."

Pulling her cup to her lips, she replied with a shrug, "Maybe I shouldn't have cheated on Sam then."

"Yeah, you shouldn't of." You nodded, agreeing with her. "It wasn't a nice thing to do to ol' Sammy boi. But hey, I do know one thing to be true though."

Quinn sucked the leftover alcohol from her lips, peering down at you in curiosity.

"What's that?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be sitting on my lap right now."

With a giggle, she leaned in close, holding your neck in place so that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to. Her voice seemed to lower an octave or two as she muttered her information over to you, "It is very comfortable."

"Well, it thanks you for those kind words."

"How drunk are you?" she asked after a few seconds of silent thinking, eyes shifting to look at every part of your face.

"'Bout as drunk as you."

"That's the perfect amount, then," she whispered before leaning in.

However, before her lips could meet yours. You were pulled out of your little world by none other than your friends cheering for the finished performance.

Still, you had the desire to solely blame your sister for being a cock block.

---

You awoke the next day with an intense hangover and a splitting headache.

With a groan, you turned to read the time upon the clock on your bedside table. The thing mocked you with every tick it made, sending a sharp pain through your skull and deep into your brain. It almost wasn't worth finding out it was 11:15 AM. No... it wasn't worth it.

Ever so slowly, you laid yourself back onto your mattress so as to not further anger your hangover. Eyes slipping shut, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep under your belt before you had to deal with the task of trying to cure your hangover.

That was until you felt shuffling in the bed beside you.

Your eyes snapped open, fighting against the pain brought on by the sudden brightness of your room, hurriedly peering over to the space beside you.

Only to find a naked blonde lying face down in the bed beside you. Her hair fanned across her bare shoulders in messy waves, back raising and falling in steady breaths, captivating your eyes.

There were only two possibilities on who it could be.

One was more likely to happen than the other.

So, as the girl began moving, letting out soft noises in reaction to her own hangover, you found yourself silently chanting.

'Please don't be Brittany. Please don't be Brittany. I can't do that to Artie'

No matter how likely it would be her.

I mean, there was no way it could be the alternative... right?

But there she was.

In all of her hangover glory.

Quinn Fabray.

"What?" she breathed, now on her back, confused as to why you were lying beside her and why you were shirtless, "What happened? Why are you naked?" Glancing down, she found herself in the same predicament. Quickly scooping up the bed sheets as she moved to sit up covering her chest. "Why am I naked?"

At her mass amount of questions, you finally realised that you were, in fact, naked yourself. The full memories of last night hitting you light a freight train.

But if there was one thing you could never stop being, that was a sarcastic shit.

"I'm surprised that you would need the birds and the bees talk."

The girl placed a plan over her scrunched-up face, voice coming out slightly muffled as she spoke, "Oh, God, we had sex, didn't we?" The question was rhetorical. You could tell she was remembering your midnight activities together.

"Oh, gee, thanks. Say it like you regret it more, why don't you?"

"I didn't mean it like that." She shook her head at you. Quinn was silent for a few long moments before her voice trailed off, "I can't believe we were drunk the first time we had sex."

"First time?" you pointed out, with a wiggle of your eyebrows, gaining a roll of her hazel eyes in return.

"Shut up."

"I would say "make me", but you already did that last night."

Quinn groaned, resting her head in her hands. Soon surprising you, when she moved closer, laying on your -still naked- chest.

"I'm going back to sleep. This headache is killing me."

You hummed in agreement, hand coming up to play with her messy blonde hair, trying to tame it as best you could.

"Let's hope that Rachel doesn't barge in."

"At this point, I don't care. As long as she lets me sleep this off."

Scoffing lightly, as you slowly fell asleep along with the girl, you uttered, "You must be stupid to think she wouldn't scream the house down."

No words were spoken after that.

The room no longer held two hungover teens after a night of sex.

It now held two hungover teens after a night of sex that were now fast asleep.

---

The next time you were at school was great... for you.

Your friends, however? They were still suffering the repercussions of alcohol.

You probably should have known something was up when you spotted a large gaggle of them talking by the entrance.

But alas, you still strode your way over to them, greeting them with a smile.

"Hi, guys."

"Oh God, what the hell?" Artie asked when he saw you.

Smile drooping in confusion, you asked, "What?"

"How are you not hungover like the rest of us?" Santana clarified.

Shrugging, you explained, "I don't have hangovers. Well, I do, but they normally only last a few hours if I take care of myself right... but still, I think I have alcoholics in my DNA." Then a devilish smile of realisation took over your face, looking at them all. "Wait, are you guys still hungover?" Is that why you're these?" You gestured to their shades, soon reaching over to flick at Quinn's. "Wow, do you not have a pair of sunglasses that don't make you look like a bug?"

"Get off." She slapped your arm away. "I'm in pain."

"Oh, the poor baby," you said in a mocking tone. But still, you strode over to the girl, wrapping your arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into your chest.

For the first time all weekend, since she removed herself from your body in the late afternoon to go home, Quinn felt better. The scent that she could only describe as you wafted up her nose from your comfortable hoodie, almost seeming to soothe the intense ache in her brain immediately. Along with the darkness you gave her being pressed against you. If it was one thing Quinn was certain of, it was the fact that you were undoubtedly the world's best hangover cure.

"Hey, I'm in pain, too."

Rolling your eyes at Santana, you pulled her against you as well, feeling the blonde tense up suddenly under your arm, confusing you slightly. But you were quick to chalk it up as a reaction to her hangover continuing to cause her pain.

"We're all in pain," Mercedes spoke dryly.

"I'm afraid to say that I don't have enough arms to hug all of you."

"Well, I've got something to help with that," Artie smiled, raising the thermos and paper cups in his lap, "How about some Bloody Marys, y'all?"

You scoffed disbelievingly at the boy.

"Are you kidding me?" Mercedes asked, " The last thing I wanna do is drink."

"It'll help your hangover. That's what Bloody Marys are for. Hair of the dog that done bit yo' ass."

"Listen, all that's gonna do is delay your hangovers and make it worse when you actually deal with it."

"Well, maybe if you gave us your hangover tips, we wouldn't have to do this," Sam bit, obviously in pain and probably not liking the fact that you had your arms around both his girlfriend and ex-girlfriend.

"Okay." You shrugged, still holding onto the ex-cheerleaders. "As soon as you get up, eat something big and greasy- Sounds counterproductive, I know, but it works. Have a cup of coffee and some aspirin. Continue to take aspirin throughout the day. Drink a lot of water throughout the day. Sleep throughout the day. Done."

"That's... it?" Mike asked, making you hun and nod, "No weird concoction of condiments or anything?"

"No? Dude, I'd rather deal with a hangover than drink something you made me do when we went bowling last year."

"And that works?" Mercedes asked, referring to your "hangover cure".

Another shrug. "Works for me."

Looking down, you saw that Quinn was offering you one of the blue, medical-grade paper cups.

"You doing it?" you asked, plucking the cup from her hand. Confirmation in return. "I don't have a hangover and I don't feel like drinking right now, so no, thank you." You finished, bopping her on the nose with the cup before passing it off to Santana.

"Maybe next time you could give us those hangover tips of yours before we come to school."

"Well, Puckerman, with the big game you talk and how many parties you've been to, I'd thought you'd have hangovers in the bag by now."

Raising her hands between you and the boy, Quinn spoke, "Okay, don't you two start fighting now. I'm far too hungover to deal with it right now."

"Yeah, Puckerman."

"Y/N," the blonde scolded.

Even without Beth, she sure did act like a mother sometimes.

Later that day, your group performed a tester number for Mr Schuester in preparation for the assembly.

"Well done, you guys," the teacher praised, "I mean, you always bring it with the singing and the dancing. But what I was really impressed with today was your acting. I truly thought that some of you guys were drunk."

"Well, we take out craft seriously," Artie said.

"Yeah." You shot the teacher a faux smile. "We're such good actors."

"Right. Problem is that that song is great, but it- It kinda glorifies drinking, don't you think?" You nodded to the man's words while the rest of your team looked at him as if he had lost his damn mind. "I mean, we're supposed to sing about the dangers of alcohol at this assembly."

"Well, good luck finding a song that does that." You had to agree with Mercedes' words. Not a single song about not drinking came to mind.

"Mr Schue," Rachel said, sounding just as drunk as Mercedes did. Stumbling her way over to the centre of the stage, grasping a hold of Mike's arm for support, "First of all, that vest is very cute. You are all kinds of awesome."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at how obvious she was being in her drink-induced state.

When suddenly, you felt a hand sliding up your shirt, coming to rest upon your abdomen. Looking down in surprise, you found Quinn Fabray, gazing up at you with that same look in her eyes that she had the night of the party. With her free hand, she pulled you down to whisper privately in your ear, her hushed words making your eyes blow wide.

"I want you again."

"Oh-kay..." you said, pulling back, "You've got to be sober before you say that to me," you told her, finishing it off with a flick of your finger against the tip of her nose.

"Or, you could just get drunk," she counteroffered.

Not even gracing her with a reply, you focused back on your sister's words, all the while hoping that this was some 'liquid courage' situation and not a 'she only wants you when she's drunk' thing.

"But second, maybe there's really no songs about the dangers of drinking, because there's really none, as long as you have a proper designated driver."

'Okay, Mr Schue had got to know she's drunk right now'

"Need I remind you of hangovers," you said knowingly, words going ignored.

"Have I ever told you have great you are?"

"No! Bad, Rachel!" you scolded, pointing over at the brunette as Tina carted her boyfriend off and away from your sibling.

"Well, Rachel, yeah, driving drunk is dangerous. Any of you guys ever heard of alcohol poisoning? Yeah, it kills about four-hundred people every year."

"Oh, it's way more than that. Are you kidding me?" you regarded the man.

"You are so smart," Quinn muttered to you as she continued drawing random patterns upon the skin of your abdomen, admiring you from her position pressed against your side.

"Santana, are you crying?" Mr Schuester asked, distracted by the girl before he could reply to your words.

The teenager sniffled, waving him off. "I'm okay. I'm okay." Then her tears finally broke free, and she quickly wrapped Brittany up in a hug.

As quickly as it came, Quinn's infatuation with you left, and that same anger from a few nights ago began to build up once more. Seemingly out of nowhere, and not the fact that your attention had shifted over to the Latina.

However, instead of taking her anger out on you, it shifted to someone else entirely.

"You're such a hypocrite," she told the man, removing herself from your body, nearing him in challenge, "You drink. Most adults do."

"I may have a beer every now and then, but I- I don't get drunk," he scoffed.

"We're just sayin' this is a waste of time," Puck gave his input now, "I mean, we're totally aware of alcohol. We see adults drinking it and having fun. Every commercial for NASCAR is for beer."

"I think there are way more fun things to do than drink."

"Thank you, Y/N." Mr Schue gestured your way.

"Yeah, we could be doing one of those right now, but whatever," Quinn mumbled so only you could hear, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and tongue to tuck between your teeth and lower lip, shaking your head at her drunken wants.

"Look, tomorrow, come with your thinking caps on. Because, we're gonna spend the entire day brainstorming ideas for songs to sing at this assembly."

And with that concluded the performance.

Quinn's glare sent your way as she strode from the stage with her hands upon her hips, showing you just how your day was about to go.

The rest of the day, with drunk moody Quinn thinking that you don't want her.

That's just great.

---

You were exhausted when you arrived home from work. The knowledge that you had to work on your homework only furthered that.

However, before you could begin making your way upstairs, your attention was pulled to the voices wafting from the basement. Deciding to investigate yourself, you made your way down, only to see Kurt and Rachel cleaning up from the party the previous weekend.

"Hey Kurt, what are you doing here so late?" you asked, fiddling with your watch.

"I was in the neighbourhood."

"At ten o'clock?" Rachel asked sceptically, "Are you sure you're not here just to find out how my date with Blane went?"

The shock that you felt at her statement practically blasted you back. Raising your hands, you asked, "I'm sorry, what?" Isn't he, y'know, gay?"

"He's trying to figure that out."

"Oh, so he might be bi or something?" you shrugged, catching the look Kurt had out of the corner of your eye.

"Oh, was your date tonight?"

Rachel looked at him sadly, not liking his flippancy.

"Look, we're friends. So, I'm gonna be honest with you." She held the trashcan against her chest. "The date was lovely. We saw 'Love Story' at the revival theatre. We even dressed up as the characters."

"That's not gay at all," Kurt replied resentfully.

"I don't think that's, "gay"," you said, using air quotes, "People dress up to see movies and stuff all the time. Doesn't define their sexualities."

"I agree." Rachel smiled your way.

Clearing his throat irritably, Kurt moved on to ask, "Did you kiss?"

"No. Our lips split the evening, mouthing Ali Macgraw's dialogue. Frankly, I did expect a little snog as the date drew to a close. But I guess the timing just wasn't right."

You cringed at that, "God, please don't say the word 'snog'. It goes right through me."

"Or the blood-alcohol level."

Kurt was beginning to get on your nerves with his comments and the off-putting energy he was giving off.

So with your brows downturned in annoyance, you turned to the boy, question hot on your tongue, "Kurt, are you feeling okay? 'Cause, something seems to be up your ass, and not in a good way."

Not wanting to see a fight break out between the two of you. For the first time, Rachel tried to keep the peace.

"Look, I know that you have feelings for him, and I'm sure you think I'm crazy for asking him out. But... Blane is obviously conflicted, and if he turns out to not be gay, then I guess I will have done you a favour."

"Well, we all know one thing for sure," you stated, "He definitely. Likes. Guys. So, I don't know what the whole hub-bub is about," turning to Kurt, you floated over what his true anger was about, "Or is it just because you're scared you'd have more competition?"

"I'm not scared of anything," the boy spoke, clear as day, denying your obtuse words. Then pointedly moved to talk to your sister, as he moved to sit on the stage across from her, "I'm just doing you a favour by telling you that Blane is the first of a long line of conflicted men that you will date that will later turn out to be only the most flaming of homosexuals."

"Hey!" You pointed at the boy, the fire behind your eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't steal my joke like that. It may be true, but only I can say those things to her. And that doesn't negate the fact that this is just coming from a place of biphobia and jealousy."

"Blane and I have a lot in common," Rachel added, stopping Kurt from replying to your words.

"A sentiment expressed many a hag about many a gay."

Your hands flung up into the air, head thrown back, looking like you were almost asking some Deity or God what you had done to have to deal with this coming from your friends.

Jealousy sure was a bitch sometimes.

Rachel seemed to back into herself after the boy's words, causing you to inhale sharply, anger bubbling up inside you, along with the intense drive to protect your family.

"Look, I don't doubt that you and Blane would have a jolly good time shopping at Burberry and arguing who would make the better Rum Tum Tugger. I don't dispute that," he said, placing a hand over his heart as she smiled, amused, "But there's something you and Blane will never have, and that's chemistry."

"Well, they do go to different schools." You smiled painfully at the boy, knowing exactly what you were getting at.

Your attention was soon brought back to your sister and her self-assured words.

"Fine. Then I'm gonna prove you wrong. I'm gonna take the beer goggles off, and I'm gonna kiss him sober. And if the spark is still there, then I'm taking you to the bakery of your choice for a piping-hot slice of humble pie."

You gazed down at her with a soft smile drawn across your lips, proud at the fact that this was the first time she had even attempted to "kill someone with kindness". Until the word 'pie' dawned on you.

"Can I come? I like pie."

Rachel shook her head at you humouredly before it fell when she spotted the thing hanging at the back of the stage.

"Whose bra is that?"

Looking over, you found a pink, polka-dotted bra tied up in the long beaded tassels situated in front of a plush red curtain.

Sighing, you stepped over the two folded legs, swiftly pulling the thing from its suspension.

"It's Brittany's. I'll take it back to her before work tomorrow."

"How do you know it's Brittany's?" Rachel asked, looking at you sceptically.

"She literally stripped during the party." You gestured with the thing in hand. "But even then, how do you think I know?"

Your sister's face scrunched up in reaction, disgusted by the information of your sex life, and vocalised by her, "Ew."

Clearing his throat, Kurt uttered, "I better go."

"I'll walk you out," you stated, actually wanting him to be out of your house after the comments he had made.

It was only when you were at the base of the stairs with Kurt ascending them, did Rachel call out to you.

"Are you gonna help me clean this up?"

"Hell no! You wanted the party. You clean up after it. I have better things to do." Then you remembered your homework. "You know, on second thought, maybe I will help you."

It was building up inside of you, and Kurt could feel it too. The intense need to further chew him out. By the time you held the door open for him, and he stepped out, you couldn't find it in you to keep your words at bay.

"Kurt?" You watched as his shoulders dropped in a sigh, having been hoping that you would just slam the door and let him be on his way. But that, it seemed, wasn't in the books for him, so he turned, ready to take whatever you had to say. "Our community has enough hate flung at it for it to come from inside the house, too. There's a reason there's a 'B' in LGBT, and it's not for 'boobs'. I get that there's a stigma around it for being a "stepping stone", but that doesn't mean it isn't any less valid than our sexualities." You waved a hand between the two of you. "If I were you, I'd accept that. Sooner rather than later. 'Cause hell, if Blane does turn out to be bi, there's still a chance he could like you, and I'm sure he'd be just as disappointed as I am to find out you're a biphobe. If not more so."

And with that, you gave the boy what he had originally hoped for and closed the door in his face.

---

"Hey."

Looking up from where you were lacing up your shoes, you spotted Quinn standing not too far from you, playing with her fingers. You had never seen her look so bashful before. With her hair curled and teased for the upcoming performance.

"Het," you replied in turn, rising to your full height and coming closer to the blonde, "You fully sober, or are you gonna try to have sex with me again?"

She sighed, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is there to talk about?" you shrugged, "We had sex, and nothing's gonna come of it. It was just a one-night stand... even if you did try to sleep with me again after that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. And how moodily I reacted afterwards. I guess I can get kind of angry when I'm drunk."

"You guess?"

"Sorry up," she half laughed, half scoffed, shaking her head at you. After a few moments of just watching you smile down at her, she spoke, "You know, most people wouldn't have said "no" to me."

"If you think it was anything against you, that wasn't the case," you told her, seeing right through her nonchalant exterior and into the volubility underneath.

Quinn's brows furrowed. "It wasn't?" A shake of your head. "Then what was it?"

"You were drunk, and I wasn't," you stated simply, "I wasn't going to do that with you in that state, no matter how much you wanted it. Even if you would continue to want it when you were sober. I'm not Puckerman. I respect consent in all its forms." Then a whisper, "I wouldn't do that to you."

It didn't take a detective to see the tears shining in her eyes, begging to be released.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

A shrug. "I try. But this isn't part of that. This is just me being a normal human being."

With one last soft smile her way, you turned to get in position for the number, that was until-

"It wasn't just because of the alcohol."

"What?"

"Us having sex," Quinn clarified, "I wanted it. I just needed the courage. And in the end, there was nothing for me to be scared of."

"That right?" you asked, coming closer, a flirty smirk that matched adorning your features.

"Yeah. I had a lot of fun. Didn't know I could feel that good."

"Oh, really? Well-"

"Guys!" Mr Schue called over, shattering the moment between you and the blonde, "C'mon, let's get into places."

Turning back to the Fabray, you shook your hands beside your face. "Show time." Revelling in the soft giggle she gifted you with just as your principal spoke to the gathered assembly as your teacher exited to join them.

"Quiet, please. Quiet, please, children. I would like to wish you and yours a healthy and happy alcohol awareness week. Unfortunately, Kitty Dukakis could not be here because of disinterest. But Lima police chief Lawrence Krowley is here to show you a grisly slide show of auto accidents. Take it away, chief."

"That's gotta be illegal, right?"

"He already showed me them after I stole the ATM," Puck stated, not answering your question, in the slightest.

Coming back from peering out into the crowd, Brittany's voice wavered in nervousness, "Guys, I'm really nervous. Ke$ha's been a cultural icon for weeks, and I really want to do her music justice."

"Don't you love a couple week-long icon?" you joked, hoping to break the tension and get the scared girl to laugh, only for it to fail.

At least you tried, right?

"We haven't had enough rehearsal," Sam stated, only furthering the club's pessimism.

"Or any at all," Mercedes added.

"And most of our assembly performances usually end in some kind of riot."

"I can't be blamed for the first one," you said, straightening out your backwards cap, "My eyes are still burning from that thing."

At just that moment, Rachel rushed up, a large plastic bottle filled with a murky brown substance in hand, along with a stack of red solo cups.

"Never fear, teammates. Now, it's a Broadway tradition for nervous performers to take a shot of whiskey before going on to calm their nerves and to mask the stench of bad dental hygiene," she rushed to say, handing out the cups as the team gathered around.

Watching as she poured some of the mysterious liquid into the red cup, you questioned, "Did you drain our plumbing and are now trying to make us drink it?"

"Of course not. Following the Broadway tradition, I have mixed us a playful showbiz cocktail of what was left in my dads' liquor cabinet."

"Don't become a bartender, Rach. Because this looks like sewage water." You pointed down at the substance Artie was now pouring and handing out to everyone. "What the hell is even in that?"

"There's some brandy in here, vermouth, and port wine, and scotch in here," she listed the ingredients of her concoction, "And also a little bit of Kool-Aid and some crumbled-up Oreos."

"Oreos? Wait, are you trying to poison us with this?" you regarded her, raising your own cup in pointless reference.

"Oh, my God. This tastes like cough syrup," Santana cringed after taking a sip.

"There's also cough syrup in here." Rachel pointed down to her own drink, cringing at the taste of herself.

"Oh, it's drugged too?"

That, it seems, didn't matter to the team, as they all cheered, raising their cups to tap them all together.

"To Ke$ha."

Pulling the cup to her chest, Quinn peered into the contents unsurely, debating whether to drink it or not. With the same look in her eye, she turned to you, silently asking your opinion. With the way your face was pulled into mild disgust, she further shook her head for clarification. Gaining the same action in return, she allowed you to reach over and pluck the drink from her hand.

"Don't drink that," you whispered. Pouring her shot into your cup. Collapsing the two together and placing them away from the audience's view.

"Thank you, chief," the voice of your principal sounded throughout the gymnasium once more as you all got into your positions, "And now, performing the hit single "Tik" and also "Tok" by rapper Ke-dollar-sigh-ha, the New Directions."

The performance was going amazingly well. Which was surprising. The students seemed to be loving it, and in turn, cheering you on. However, things started to go downhill in the middle of the performance when Brittany stumbled over to say something to your sister. And by the end, it had turned into a total fiasco.

It started with Brittany. The girl moved back over to Rachel, only to projectile vomit all over her. Reaching out to the brunette, she uttered, "Oh, my God." Shocked and sorry for what had just happened all the while, the shorter Berry rushed off the stage. Presumedly to get herself cleaned up.

Then, possibly in reaction, Santana stumbled past you, retching and gagging, as she herself vomited in the direction of the audience, further shocking everyone.

Dropping the arm you had lifted into the air, avoiding the Latina, you now rubbed along her back as she continued spluttering towards the grey-matter-coated floor. Free hand, coming to pull her puke-covered hair away from her face, holding it in a ponytail, like you remember doing so much for Quinn when she was pregnant last year.

She seemed to remember that too. Chest tightening, and face twitching in the background, as she watched you take care of Santana, just like you used to do for her.

Leaning down, you passed your arm under hers, dropping her hair as you pulled her into your chest. That seemed to be exactly what Santana needed, as on instant, she cuddled into you, letting you take on most of her weight.

"Just don't throw up on me, yeah?" you whispered down to the girl, gaining a sleepy nod in return.

That was all the information you needed to begin leading her way off of the temporary stage. Passing Finn, you said, "At least this one didn't end in a riot."

You think the riot might have been better.

"Everybody, drink responsibly."

---

Mr Schue seemed to have caught on to the reoccurring battle you and Mike had against Finn and Puckerman during his class. And so, he split you up. However, he wasn't smart enough to split you from your friends entirely. No. He just placed you behind enemy lines.

So, there you sat, at the front of the class, in your usual seat, with Finn now beside you. The other two behind you as the teacher strolled between the isles.

Everything was calm.

That was until the PA system sounded to life.

The jingle of a xylophone made an entrance for a speech yet to come, then Beck Jackson's voice poured throughout the school.

"Heads up, McKinley. Coach Sylvester's gonna shout at ya'."

"Students... colleagues... indeed, all who understand the Queen's English. We all still quake in terror at what we witnessed yesterday at the assembly by a Glee Club spiralling out of control. My nose is still finned with the acrid stench of teen vomit. And there is simply but one person to blame, the alcoholic teen-vomit fetishist. Will Schuester, the director of that club. Two days ago, I received a drunk dial in the middle of the night from a horny Will Schuester."

Your brows shot into your hairline, jaw-dropping, peering over your shoulder at Mike, sharing the same look of surprised horror before you faced the front once more.

"Open your ears, McKinley high, and behold,d the awful price of alcoholism." With a soft beep, your teacher's slurred voice replaced the coaches.

"Hey there, sexy lady. There's something I really, really want to say to you. I love how you eat your lunch with your little plastic gloves, and they crinkle and make the cutest sound I've ever heard in my life." Hastily, you moved to cover your mouth, stopping the laugh that was dying to come out from escaping, the whole school knowing exactly who he was talking about. Your guidance counsellor. Your married guidance counsellor. "Why don't you pick up some wine coolers and comer over here? And it'll be just one night of us just getting crazy. Let's just get crazy. Let's just get really crazy and roll around in the hay." It was getting harder and harder to control your amusement. "I was just in some hay earlier tonight, and I rode a bull, and I was thinking of you."

Your saving grace came in the form of the return of Coach Sylvester's voice, "Will Schuester, you've just been publicly humiliated. And on the road to recovery, it's the very first step."

Talk about your first class of the day.

Later that same day, the Glee Club and its director were hailed into the principal's office, ready for him to dish out the expected punishments.

"We're probably gonna get suspended."

"Second suspension of the year, and it's not even over yet!" you playfully celebrated, only to receive a scolding slap to your shoulder from Quinn in return, "Ow! Hurting me."

"I think you'll definitely get suspended," Mr Schue stated, "You'll probably all get suspended."

"Oh, you're one to talk. How about you crank a four loko, Count Boozy Von Drunk-a-thon?"

You had to speedily hide your snort at Santana's words as your principal entered at that exact moment behind you.

When he was finally behind his desk, the man spoke, "William. Glee club. I have one word for you... congratulations."

'What?'

"Those special effects at the assembly really paid off. I had no idea what brilliant musical-comedy performers you all have become."

Leaning over to Quinn, you whispered, "Is this guy for real?"

"The kids at this school are scared straight."

That was all you needed for your question to be answered. Whispering once more, "Yep." Then you moved back into your original position.

"Today is the first day in a month without a single act of public drunkenness at McKinley High!" Following in suit with the man, you applauded your surprising success. "And as a thank you, here are coupons for half-off frozen yoghurt. Yum!"

As Principal Figgins and Mr Schuester spoke in private, you held up the coupon Artie had handed you, flashing the Fabray a soft grin.

"Feel like grabbing some frozen yoghurt?"

She smiled back at you. "Sure."

"Okay. Achievement!"

"Achievement!"

You had no choice but to sit beside Quinn.

Literally.

The girl had her fingers wrapped into one of your jean loops since you exited the principal's office and headed for the choir room.

"I'm torn," Brittany said as soon as she sat down, "Part of me never wants to drink again because it made me so sick, but if it weren't for drinking, the assembly would've been a disaster."

"I, for one, am never drinking again," Rachel stated from the seat in front of yours, "Being thrown up on, it just does something to a person."

"All right, guys. While I'm happy things worked out with the assembly... I never want to see you guys pull anything like that again," Mr Schue spoke from the front of the class, "Drinking while performing is unprofessional. Drinking while at school is just stupid, and most importantly, any of you guys drinking at all is illegal."

"There's a fair amount of the pot calling the kettle back right now."

"Yeah." You nodded, agreeing with Quinn's statement. "Plus, I only did one of those things because I'm tough and can handle a hangover, unlike these weakens."

With a humoured smile, Quinn gently slapped your thigh.

"I couldn't agree more. Which is why I'm gonna stop drinking. Not even a beer at the end of the night to take the edge off."

"But if you don't drink, what will you have to live for?" Santana questioned.

"That's... really depressing. And a way that alcoholism can start."

"Exactly. I have plenty in my life without beer."

It was Mercedes' turn to ask a depressing question, "Like what exactly?"

Your brows ticked up when he silently stuttered in reaction to that question.

"The point is, I'm gonna stop. And I hope you guys do too."

"Isn't that kind of unrealistic?" Tina smiled.

"Yeah. Honestly, I think it is," he admitted truthfully, walking to pick up a McKinley High stamped manilla folder, "Which is why I'm only gonna ask you to do it until after Nationals. Consider yourselves like prize fighters, getting ready for a big heavyweight bout."

"I know I'd win!" you called, slapping at your biceps.

"I'm sure you would, Y/N," he chuckled while you continued to flex jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows at Quinn when you noticed the look she was giving you, only for the blonde to roll her eyes and turn away, intent on listening to the rest of the man's words, "Now. These are pledge forms." He raised the blue sheets of paper so that everyone could see. "And I want you guys to sign them."

"And what if we fall off the wagon again?" Puckerman asked.

Already prepared for that question, the teacher instructed, "Look in the top corner of your form. That's my cell phone number."

"Yes."

"Score!" Sam and yourself joked, gaining laughs from the team.

"Part of your pledge is that if one of you do slip up, no matter where you are or what time of the night it is, I want you to call me to drive you home. We got lucky this time that the only consequence of your drinking was some ill-timed vomiting. None of us wants to see any of you guys get hurt."

"Cool beans, Mr Schue. I'll sign."

""Cool beans"," you mocked Santana.

"Oh, shut up."

"Me too," Rachel spoke, "Alcohol has done nothing for my songwriting."

With that cocky smile on his face, Finn ventured a question over to the teacher, "What about after we win Nationals?"

After a pause for suspense, he replied, "I'm buying us sparkling cider."

A couple of minutes later, after waiting for Quinn to sign her name upon her own pledge and hand the pen over to you, you began to scrawl your own, "'Y/N'... should I put a middle name?" you asked the room, "Hey, Rach, what's my middle name?"

"You don't have one," she replied, confused that you don't remember something so basic about yourself.

Not taking that for an answer, you decided on putting one down anyway.

"'MacGyver'... 'Berry'."

"Why 'MacGyver'?" Quinn asked with a laugh.

To which you just shrugged and said, "Funny name."

---

"So, you said he comes this way at three thirty?"

You didn't know why you were here.

No. Correction, you did.

To support Rachel, to tell Kurt off it needed, for the delicious food, because she dragged you. So, it wasn't really your choice. There were a myriad of reasons.

You didn't want to be here.

But the muffin you were devouring sure made it a bit better.

"Like clockwork," Kurt nodded, "For his post-rehearsal medium drip."

"I just can't wait to lay one on him," Rachel said, adding more chapstick to her lips.

With your mouthful, you uttered, "Gross."

"You know what's gross?" she asked rhetorically, pointing to your chewing mouth, "That."

Very maturely, you opened your mouth, showing her the chewed-up contents within, sending a shiver through her.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Rachel," Kurt started, once more, "I mean, I don't mean to be a scold, but I don't want you to get hurt either."

"I kinda agree with him," you spoke around another mouthful, pointing over to Kurt, "Just up and randomly kissing someone isn't always the best idea."

The boy sighed, leaning back in his chair, adding to his prior words, "There's no victory in this for me either way."

"Who cares about you, biddy?" she practically kissed over the table, "I may get a new boyfriend out of this, who can keep up with me vocally, and in the future, give me vaguely Eurasian-looking children."

"Okay... I will allow you to be bitchy to her once because of that," you told Kurt.

The boy quickly grew distracted, attention slowly upon the entrance of the coffee shop.

"There he is. Dreamy as ever."

"He is pretty good-looking." You nodded, peering at the other Warbler, before staring down at the last pieces of your sweet treat. "Is this muffin making me straight?"

Ignoring you entirely, Rachel whispered to your table, "Okay. Wish me luck."

Vaguely, you heard the boy greet your sister, "Hey, Rachel. What's going on?" Before he was cut off by her lips connecting with his own. Then once it finished, "Huh. Yep. I'm gay. One hundred per cent gay. Thank you so much for clearing that up for me, Rachel. Listen, save my space in line, will you? I gotta go hit the restroom."

Speedily finishing the last of your muffin, you followed Kurt over to your gobsmacked sister.

"That was hard, wasn't it?"

"Are you kidding?" she breathed, "That was amazing. I am speechless." Your brows furrowed at her gushing, having expected her to be at least somewhat heartbroken. "I just had a relationship with a guy who turned out to be gay."

"I don't think one date and two kisses counts as a relationship."

"That is songwriting gold. Oh!" she exclaimed, moving to kiss Kurt's cheek, then yours.

"Ugh," you sneered.

"Okay. I have to go compose, but thank you." She bounced in her place. "Thank you!"

Then she was off, exiting the Lima Bean, intent on writing a song you would be forced to hear over and over again as she worked on it.

Fantastic.

Leaving you alone with Kurt.

Brilliant.

"Listen, Y/N..." the boy started nervously, "I... I really want to say sorry for how I've been acting lately. I know there's no excuse for my words, but... you were right. I really was just jealous."

"I know." You nodded.

"This is the first crush I've had that could actually be feasible, and, I guess, I just couldn't handle anyone standing in the way of that, and it led me to say things I truly didn't mean- I'm not like that, I swear, I would never hate someone just for who they are, or think that their sexuality wasn't real. I can't even begin to explain why I acted that way. All I know is I'm sorry."

"I know that too." You nodded once more, reaching over to pat his back. "It's not my apology to accept. All you gotta do is show me that you mean what you say no, and continue to grow with it. But still, if you really wanna show me just how sorry you are, you can buy me one of those giant cookies I like."

Kurt laughed, relieved that things between the two of you were fine once more.

"You got it. I think I might have one, too."

"Hell yeah!"

Turns out your sister wasn't the only one having a date with a gay guy this week.

You were going to be seeing two when Blane came back.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Thirteen - (Comeback) New Trends and Traumatised Attraction

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: The beginning of the end.

Word Count: 5,864

WARNINGS: Bieber shit..., the reader having their foot in their mouth, just the typical stuff.

-----

It was that time again.

The time for violence.

Pretty much the thing you did every Spanish lesson because your teacher sucked so bad at it that it was more productive for you to do this than to actually try and learn anything.

But this time, the boys had a jump on you.

Mike and yourself were under-armed in this battle, positions at the front of the class radiating your weakness, giving Finn and Puck the advantage of your blindspot thanks to your turned backs. So when your teacher wasn't looking, you were being pelted with balled-up paper from the table behind and over.

"Regresar."

You gruffed to yourself when the man turned around, halting your and Mike's revenge strike.

"Who knows what that means?"

Leaning in close to the dancer, you whispered, "I'm gonna throw my shoe."

"No, don't. If a teacher spots you tackling them for it back, you'll be suspended again."

You hummed discouragingly, not liking his words, no matter how much you knew them to be true. All the while glaring at the two boys who performed their assault, daggers practically shooting from your eyes when they waved over to you smugly.

"Can I please throw my shoes at them?"

"No."

"To come back."

Your glare soon turned on your teacher when he took the only ammunition you and the boy had against your enemies in the class.

Everything was against you in today's warfare.

With a sigh, you slumped back into the hard plastic of your chair, sounding out the boring droll of the Spanish teacher's voice as he went on and on about things he didn't know nor could comprehend.

That was until the school's guidance counsellor barged into the room in a hurry with a worry-stricken face.

"-"come back". Now, if we're gonna put it-"

"Will. It's an emergency."

With a quick look to the class, Mr Schuester rushed from the room, following the ginger woman through the halls.

Sharing a look with Mike, then the two boys sat at the table behind you, jutting your thumb out towards the door, the fear of you curious as to what was happening, hoping it had nothing to do with any of your friends.

"Uh..." Reaching forward, you gripped the edge of your table as you shouted through the open door, hoping your voice would reach your panicking teachers, "Can we go now, or are you coming back?!"

You waited a few moments for a reply but got nothing in return.

With a shrug, you grabbed your work and moved to exit the room, the rest of the class following in your footsteps.

You just hoped that this wouldn't lead to yet another crazy week, that you were starting to grow, oh so used to.

To your absolute surprise, you were proven wrong by one Brittany S. Peirce... and also your sister... mainly your sister. She was, after all, the mastermind behind the whole plot.

"Hey, Brittany. We need to talk."

"Oh, what the hell are you wearing?" you asked, amused, walking on the opposite side of the girl, flanked by your sister, upon the school's balcony walk away. The same one you had been cornered on by Santana and Quinn just last year. Smiling down at the girl's covered arms.

"Why are my leg warmers on your arms?"

Pointing over to Rachel, you stated more so than asked, "Oh, you did this to her?"

"I got cold," Brittany stated as though it were obvious.

"What-? No- We had a deal," Rachel whined, "Okay, as I explained, I am in the midst of a career resurgence, okay? I am done with boys. And I am concentrating fully on my career now."

"You have a job?"

"My career as the performer and a star," she explained. Which lead to your sarcasm-filled reply as you nodded along.

"Right."

"But the only way to make a complete comeback is to dominate popular discussion. Maybe launch a trend or two. I give you half of my allowance, so you could take a signature look of mine and make it popular."

"You know, if this whole singing, performing thing doesn't work out for you, you should go into PR."

"Why wouldn't it work out for me?" Rachel snapped, ready to go on the defensive.

You give a shrug. "No reason. Just everyone should have a backup."

"Well, I don't. I don't need one, nor do I want one."

Rolling your eyes at your sister's reply as she brushed her hair over her shoulder, Brittany took the chance to speak to the shorter Berry.

"Then we decided that leg warmers were more likely to catch on than reindeer sweaters."

"Yes, precisely," Rachel stressed, "But it won't work if you insist on wearing them incorrectly."

"I didn't realise that there were rules."

"Of course, there are rules." She rushed to round the tall blonde, stopping in front of her. "They're leg warmers."

"Well, can I wear them that way tomorrow?" Brittany asked, "I wore a tank top today because I thought it was summer, and no one ever taught me how to read a calendar."

You knew what you were doing this weekend.

Santana.

And also teaching Brittany how to read -and use- a calendar.

"Fine. Fine," your sister said frustratedly, throwing up her hands, "A-And when people ask you who gave you the inspiration for your new accessory, you're gonna say, "I'm just copying-"...

"I'm just copying Rachel Berry."

"Fantastic."

You hung back as Rachel walked off, shrugging off the letterman jacket you were actually wearing for once thanks to the cold weather, draping it over Brittany's shoulders, conscious of the wolf tank top she wore, pulling out the strings of her blue winter hat from underneath.

"There. That should keep you warm."

"Thanks, Y/N/N."

"No problem, Britt," you replied, jogging up to your sister. "She's a fashion icon," you referenced the blonde good-naturedly, making Rachel scoff and roll her eyes dramatically.

---

At the Glee Club lesson that same day, your team was delivered some horrible news.

"This cannot be happening."

"No, this seems like a terrible idea," Artie came off of his ex-girlfriend's complaint.

Mr Schuester rose his hands, stopping any further words of outcry.

"Guys. It's not up for discussion. Okay? Now, it's no secret that Coach Sylvester has taken her licks."

"I mean, just wanky."

You gave a single obnoxious laugh at Santana's words, while the coach threw the girl a glare.

Ignoring her words, Mr Schuester continued, "And I believe she could use a little sympathy from us."

"Sympathy? From us?" Mercedes repeated sceptically, "Uh-Uh."

"Yeah, all she's ever done is make out lives miserable," Quinn agreed.

"She got exactly what she deserved."

Agitated, the woman finally spoke up, "You're lucky I left my blowgun at home, airbags, 'cause I got a clear shot of your nonnies."

Quinn couldn't deal with it. She felt like her jealousy was going to eat her alive.

First, Brittany walks into the lesson all smiley, wearing a jacket that she could just tell was yours. Not the girl's boyfriend or from any other member of the football team. Yours. When or why you gave it to her, she didn't know. But she didn't like it one bit.

And now, after Sue's threat, you moved the binder that sat upon your lap over the girl's chest from your position behind her, beside Mike.

Brittany wearing your letterman jacket was one thing.

This was entirely another.

Anything you did with Santana would send lightning bolds of green jealousy through her body, a fire warming her from her chest to the very bottom of her stomach. It was only made worse by her own reminders that she had no right to be jealous. You would be together if she weren't so deep in the closet and felt like there was no escape, instead of you and Santana having... whatever the hell it was between the two of you.

The thing Quinn was angry at the most was her own fear.

Santana reached up, hands brushing yours to hold the binder against her chest, shooting you a smile over her shoulder.

'Nope', Quinn thought, changing her mind at that instant, 'She was definitely angriest at Santana'

"Guys," Mr Schue said placatingly, "Coach Sylvester has had her recent setbacks, but she is a proven champion. Now, we could do worse than to have that kind of a winning record in our midst."

"Let me break it down for you. I am no longer a threat to you people, alright? I'm just hoping your singing and dancing around will pull me out of my doldrums and give me a reason to live. Is that too much to ask?"

"Have you tried therapy?" you asked as your club remained silent, "Cause if you really don't want to live, it seems you might need it."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." The woman shook her head.

"Guys, it's settled. Sue's gonna be with us for the week."

Yep... this sure was shaping up to be a crazy week.

"Now, I received an envelope in the mail today." Weak 'whoops' filled the room as the teacher chuckled, and the coach sarcastically shook her head from side to side with widened eyes, "We know that we're facing Kurt and the Warblers at Regionals."

"Sweet porcelain." You snorted lightly at Sue's words.

"And it looks like this year we face Aural Intensity again."

"They cleaned our clock last year," Mercedes said with her head thrown back.

"Who were they again?" you asked with a scrunched-up face, "I kinda only remember the baby part of that day."

"They're the ones who pandered to the judges," Mike informed.

"Oh, the Religious ones." You nodded in understanding. "But I think the fact that Sue was one of the judges had something to do with us losing that." You jutted your thumb towards her.

"Y/N... enough," Mr Schue scolded you slowly.

Raising your palms, you replied, "Just stating the facts."

"Seems like the governing board has assigned a theme to this year's Regionals, and part of our score will be based upon how well we interpret it. This year's theme: Anthem." He showed the open letter as if any of you could read that writing from so far away. "Now, who can tell us what an anthem is?"

Predictably, your sister's hand shot high up into the air. But Brittany just spoke with a shrug.

"The bottom of an ant's pants."

"So close. So close," Mr Shue said, "But no."

"But, technically, she's right, though," you literally pointed out, "Just not in the way you were asking."

Taking a moment, the teacher decided to blink your statement away, answering his own question and making your sister drop her arm in disappointment.

"Anyway, an anthem is an epic song filled with a-A groundswell of emotion that somehow seems bigger than itself, even bigger than the person performing it."

"So, anything Freddie Mercury has ever sung? Got it."

Before he could reply, Sam had his hand in the air now.

"Mr Schue."

"Oh, hey, Sam. I didn't even notice your new haircut," the director smiled as the boy walked closer, silently asking for the class' attention.

"Yeah, I've been working on a new image to go with my new one-man band. 'The Justin Bieber Experience'."

"You've got to be kidding me," Quinn said over the quiet groans of the club.

"Dude, tell me you're joking," you begged from the back of the choir room, with your arms folded across your chest.

"Dude, that haircut makes your mouth look even bigger," Puckerman said, almost as if he were in a trance.

"Let her speak." Sue jutted out a plam to quiet the boy as the club laughed at the delinquent's words.

"Uh, Sue... you know that Sam's a guy, right?"

"Laugh all you want, but that kid's an epic talent."

"The kid's epic annoying," you stated, "And he's like thirteen. Don't you think it's weird to make a one-man band looking like him?"

"He's actually fifteen."

You raised your hands. "Like that makes it any better."

"Y/N criticism aside, there's a number I've been working on that I've been wantin' to show off." Turning to Mr Schue, he continued, "I think it qualifies as an anthem-"

"I can already tell you it doesn't!"

"Because, it's just hugely emotional and sums up our generation."

You highly doubted that. And your thought shone on your face, by the way it was scrunched up, regarding the boy as if he had a screw loose.

However, Mr Schue seemed all for it. Slapping him lightly with the back of his hand, he gave the boy the get-go, "Let's hear it, buddy."

"Let's not, please," you mumbled to yourself, sinking lower into your chair. Mike hummed along with you, as you watched the boy clap and move over to his guitar.

As soon as that first strum sounded, showing the song that had been playing everywhere recently. You groaned lightly, placing your head in your hand, hoping that would help you get through the performance.

Throughout the whole thing, you were suffering along with the guys, all the while the girls easily showed their love for it.

Once it was over and the girls cheered, you came to one conclusion.

This was it.

This was the beginning.

The downfall of Glee.

"I gotta get that girl on my Cheerios."

... that lightened your mood a tad.

---

Single children would never understand the pure joy people with siblings got when they brought pure chaps to the other's lives, thriving with the torture they dished out just to annoy them.

You were lucky enough to be one of those people.

Which is what you were intent on doing as you slid up behind your sister as she jotted onto her 'to-do list' stuck to the door of her locker.

Rachel jumped when she heard you clear your throat behind her in a few coughs before her shoulders slumped, knowing exactly what you were about to do.

"'Celine Dion's birthday'," you read from her totally indulgent bucket list/to-do list, "You already got your invite? Mine must be lost in the mail. 'Friend request Babra Streisand again'. She hasn't accepted the past three times, Rach. Take the hint."

The more you said, the more agitated she got.

"Are you quite done?"

"Not yet. 'Ann Margret in concert', not going with you to that. 'AVATAR on ice audition'... not even gonna comment on that one. 'Teach Tidkers at the JCC'. The hell is the JCC?"

Just as your sister turned to stubbornly reply to your question, her face fell, when she spotted the people wandering the hall.

"What?"

"Oh, no."

"'Oh, no' what?" you asked, beginning to worry now.

"Oh, no."

"What?" Finally, you turned to follow what Rachel was looking at, only to find a mass of teenage girls wearing leg warmers on their arms. "Oh... wow, the trends really pick up quick, huh?"

"No, way. Y/N, this is terrible!"

"For you, it is." You shrugged. "You just wasted half of your allowance."

Thinking she was angered by your words as she gripped your arm and began dragging you down the hall, you yelped at the contact, "Okay, I'm sorry." Then you realized what was truly happening, spotting Tina and Brittany walking up ahead, "Oh. Okay."

"You're a hero. You should win some kind of award."

"Hey, girls," you smiled at the two when Rachel gained Brittany's attention, pulling the tall blonde to face her, her smile fake, before she jumped into her confrontation.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. It just sort of caught on."

"I see that," she snapped, making you move out of the way of her flailing arms, "Okay? That is not what we agreed upon. I want my allowance back right now."

"It's already gone," Brittany stated, "My uncle lost his job, and his goat was going hungry, so I spent it on food for the goat. I mean, sort of. The goat just ate the money."

Nodding, you said, "Goats will like that. They can eat anything."

Rachel waved her hands around, trying to breathe her frustrations away. "Okay. The only way to proceed is for you to come to school dressed exactly like me."

Brittany evaluated what the girl was wearing. "What is that look called?"

"Sexy schoolgirl librarian chic."

"Stereotypical porn virgin," you corrected, gaining a jab in the arm for your troubles, "Ah! Abusive!"

Excitedly, your sister reached for the blonde, pulling her closer as she spoke, "Right, you'd better get a move on, okay? Kids "R" Us closes at 6PM sharp."

"You still shop at Kids "R" Us?" you regarded disbelievingly.

"They're the only place that has my perfect size." Rachel shrugged, patting Brittany on her bare upper arms, she continued, in a whisper, "Go, Brittany." Then she was off, strutting down the hall.

"Godspeed, Brittany," you joked, saluting the girl.

"Y/N!" came a yell from down the hall.

"All right, I'm coming! Don't get your Kids "R" Us panties in a twist."

---

You didn't know what to expect during the next Glee Club meeting.

But it sure as hell wasn't this.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you uttered, watching as Sam lead the march of the Bieber look-alike train.

"Sweet Jesus," Mercedes spoke from the back of the class, just as done with the boys as you were, "Who brought tickets to 'Crazy Town'?"

"I think crazy town would be better than this. No, this has got to be a fuckin' joke-" Then with a flick of his hair, your jaw dropped, and you pointed his way. "Puckerman has hair! Hair! He has hair! Is that a tupé of some shit?!"

"Y/N, language," Mr Schue scolded you.

"Oh, you can't blame me for this, Mr Schue. Look at them!"

Rolling his eyes at you, he carried on, "All right, looks like the guys here are ready to uh give us their anthem."

"Hey, everybody," Sam greeted, "We are the new and improved 'The Justin Bieber Experience'."

"Mikey, why?" you asked, arms out to your Bieberfied friend, only receiving a hopeless shrug in return.

"And we think this song is an anthem because everything Bieber does is epic."

"Truth." Artie raised his hands. All the while, you cupped yours around your mouth unnecessarily.

"You're looking up to a fifteen-year-old boy who is annoying as hell." Turning to the girls, you added, "And you're getting all hot and bothered over guys dressed as said fifteen-year-old. Check yourself!"

"Actually, Y/N, he recently turned sixteen."

"Di you celebrate it?" you sassed the creator of the band, "Anyway, it's still screwed- Ow! Stop pinching me!" you yelped, pulling your arm away from Santana's fingers, "You can't tell me that you're really into this."

The Latina rolled her eyes at you as you gestured to the group in the middle of the room while Sam took this as his opportune moment to pull everything back on track.

"Anyway, this song, like all the songs I sing, is for my girlfriend, Quinn."

"Hold on, before you start singing," you stopped them, raising your phone, "Hey, Puck?"

The boy hummed, looking your way, suddenly hearing the noise of an image being taken.

"Thank you," you said, getting exactly what you wanted, pulling your phone into your lap, looking at the picture on the screen.

But did you love having things to torment your friends, and not so friends, with.

After being ushered into the auditorium and forced to watch the group Bieber performance, you wondered if there would be songs sung by any other artist this week.

From your seat beside Finn, legs folded across the back of the chair in front of you, behind the group of cheering girls, you flopped your head back, moving to mutter to the boy, pointing towards the stage.

"For the love of God. Please, please, don't become like that."

"No worries here."

"Thank God," you breathed out, relieved.

"Um, I actually can't do Friday." You squinted up at Quinn as she spoke down to your friend, throwing you an almost awkward, bashful smile. Before she left, heading in the direction of backstage to meet her boyfriend there.

"What's Friday?"

Finn looked frightened at your question, instantly letting you know it wasn't good. Stumbling over his words, the boy said, "I- Uh... we were just going to hang out."

Glaring at the boy, you pressed, "Hang out?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, playing with his hands in his lap, unable to look you in the eyes.

Sighing through your nose and shaking your head, you said, "Finn, please tell me you're not doing the thing I asked you not to."

"I, uh- I gotta go. A lot of... math homework."

"Finn," you called after the boys exiting form, "Finn!" Slumping back into your seat, you huffed, "Fantastic. That Goddamn idiot."

At least you had that pic of Puckerman with Bieber hair to make you feel better.

That would never not bring a smile to your face.

---

You were stunned in your place when you walked into the choir room the next day. Because, sitting at the front of the class was Brittany, decked out in your sister's style of clothing.

"Why do you look cute in that?" you asked the blonde confused, questioning everything about yourself, never once thinking that you would find the whole 'stereotypical porn virgin' look attractive. But now that you think of it, it was just your sister that was the issue.

Walking around your still form, Quinn glared at you as she made her way to her seat behind Finn, not liking the way you were still looking at Brittany with shocked attraction. Jealousy flowed through her yet again. You were driving her crazy, and you didn't even know it.

With a flick of his hair, your attention was brought over to Finn Hudson, and your confused look dropped into one of horror. There he sat, with his hair across his forehead, a hoodie on, along with a long dangling chain with a dog tag on the end.

You were pissed.

"-I was working on my anthem look," his sentence finished with a yell when he was suddenly lifted a few inches from his chair, all thanks to your grip upon his maroon hoodie, looking into your angered eyes with nothing but fear.

"You said that you weren't gonna do this, Finn," your voice wavered, like one would before they were gonna snap and start breaking things... like bones, "You were my last hope. My comrade in arms. Why are you dressed like an annoying Freshman, Finn?"

Reaching over, the girl sitting beside him tried to pry your fingers from the scared boy's clothing just as your teacher walked in from his office.

"Not now Tina, I'm a bit busy, this is what he deserves."

"Okay, guys and gals. And Sue. I- Y/N, what are you doing?"

"Nothing Mr Schue, carry on with the lesson. I'm just talking some sense into Finn."

"Y/N, come on, let him go," Mr Schuester spoke, not wanting to deal with this right now. With a huff, you dropped the tall boy onto his chair, receiving a pat on the back from your teacher in praise, as he pointed to the other side of the class with the papers in his hand, "Go take a seat."

Miming over to Finn that you were watching him as you walked to an empty chair before throwing your arms into the air and exclaiming, "I'm the only sane one here! And that's shocking."

The teacher clapped his hands together, carrying on with what he had been saying before you had distracted him. "All right! It's the moment we've all been waiting for, our next diva-off. So here they are, sure to give a fantastic anthem. Mercedes and Rachel. Let's give it up!"

You joined the club, clapping along with the team, as Rachel jumped up, pausing in front of Mercedes to speak to everyone.

"After much argument, I finally convinced Mercedes that, in order to do a proper diva-off, it has to come from the Broadway catalogue. Which I think it's safe to say that gives me a home-field advantage, so."

Mercedes gave a mocked pitty groan, "Well, you're about to get beat on your own turf."

"At least it's not Bieber!" you called, shooting a quick glare over at all the boys.

Sick of the interruptions, Rachel snapped over to the band, requesting that they "hit it". And so started the competition.

To say you greatly enjoyed this over any of the Bieber songs that had been performed this week would be an understatement.

"Oh, my God. That was so great!" Mercedes said, meeting your sister halfway, willingly accepting her hug.

"No. Her. What about her?"

"No. Her."

You smiled at the praise they wanted for each other, glad that this didn't end up in petty drama, and instead appreciation.

"Awesome!"

"That was amazing!" you called to the two after your teacher.

However, amongst the joyful club sat one disappointed coach.

"Hey. Where's the hate?"

"Not the point of Glee Club, Sue."

"Well, now, Mr Schue, let's be fair." You turned to look at the coach from your seat beside Santana. "It can be the point of Glee Club. There's a lot of drama here."

---

"Oh, I cannot wait," Rachel gushed to you as you walked through the doors of William McKinley the next morning, "Brittany did exactly as planned, and now everyone should be wearing the same thing, and I will finally be looked at like a fashion icon."

"You know this is a lot for high school, right? But then again, makes total sense for high school."

Your sister gasped when she spotted three of your gathered friends rushing over to them in excitement.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," you muttered to yourself, following after her.

"-She's a genius and an icon."

"Who is?"

"Brittany," Quinn stated, "Who do you think?"

"Oh, God," you whimpered, sliding up next to Rachel, staring at the girls' outfits.

"What's up with you?" Tina asked.

"Why am I into this?" I feel weird for liking it because you're dressed like her." A jab of your thumb at your sister. "But you're not her, but the clothes are the same, and it's fucking with my mind," you answered the girl, as your voice slowly grew into a pain-filled whine.

"Uh, we aren't dressed like Rachel," Santana corrected with a raised hand, "We're dressed like Brittany. I mean, who knew taking off that Cheerios uniform would turn her into a fashion institution."

Your sister shot the three a fake smile, looking about ready to throw a temper tantrum. "Is this a joke?"

"No... that sweater is."

"What?" you scoffed a laugh at Santana's words, unable to believe what was transpiring.

"Who wears a reindeer sweater?"

"Uh, all three of you."

"No. This is a carousel horse." Tina pointed out the image on her sweater.

"Well, you're not wrong." You shrugged, gaining a betrayed scoff from your sister. "But that doesn't negate the fact that it's the same fucking style."

Quinn rolled her eyes at you, obviously thinking that you didn't understand anything about that particular style of fashion. It's not like you saw your sister wearing it pretty much every day since you were kids, or anything.

"Look, Rachel. If you want to know what to wear, just look to Brittany."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Look. She took the look from me, okay?" the shorter Berry explained, "I paid her."

"You're a terrible liar, Rachel," Tina stated, looking at the girl as if she were cruel. Which to the three, they thought she was.

"Oh, no, she's literally telling the truth."

"I would have thought better from you, Y/N," Quinn said, disappointed.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not like you to lie about something like this."

"Listen, I don't care enough about this bullshit to lie about it."

"No, but you care about your sister," Santana pointed out.

"That's very true. But I think you may have forgotten the many times I've called her out. So, yeah, I would say whether she's lying or not about clothes."

"I just can't believe you would take this away from poor Brittany," Quinn spoke down to your sister.

"It's sad. You're just sad," Santana added.

"Do I sound like the teachers from Charlie Brown, or have you all just gone deaf?"

"We heard you," the Latina told, "We're just not listening."

"Gee. Love you guys, too," you sassed slowly before calling after your sister as she stormed down the hall towards Brittany, who was entering the school herself. "Rachel!... yeah, not dealing with that," you muttered, watching her confront the blonde, turning back to the girls, looking down at their outfits, only to whimper again, "Why am I into this?"

You just didn't expect Santana to see through you instantly, bringing on a revelation. "Because you like the idea of corrupting someone, and this outfit portrays someone innocent."

Staring at the girl, blank-faced as you processed her words, you weren't able to notice the glare Quinn shot her way. The blonde knew full well of your and the Latina's "Extracurricular activities" and did not like that she knew that about you.

"I'm not dealing with this either," you stated, turning and walking from the group of girls.

"Bye, Y/N!" Santana called teasingly, gaining a giggle from Tina.

"Fuck you, Santana!" Peering over your shoulder at her. "It's too early in the morning truth like this, thanks for having that weigh no my whole day!"

---

"All right, let's get right down to it!" Your attention was pulled from where you were doodling along the edges of your math homework. Only to find your teacher standing at the front of the choir room, next to Lauren Zizes. "Starting us off and making her New Directions solo debut, Miss Lauren Zizes."

You whooped for the girl, clapping along with your friends.

"Uh, so, what are you gonna sing for us, Lauren?"

"Here's how I see it," she began, "I know I'm the hottest bitch in this joint. If I was a country, my flag would be a big fist giving the rest of the world a finger. And this would be my national anthem."

"Okay," Mr Schue replied awkwardly, moving to take a seat to watch the performance.

"God, I wish more people had your confidence," you told the girl, "Things would be so much more fun."

"Thank you, Y/N. Puckerman, grab your guitar." The boy jumped up, doing as told. "Tina, Brittany, ready?" Good. Awesome. Supercool."

"How freakin' hot is she?" Puckerman asked, as soon as the performance was over, and the wrestler had performatively shoved Tina and Brittany to the floor... at least, you thought it was performative.

Jumping up with the rest of the club, you asked the girl, "Is it too soon to say that I love you? 'Cause that was fuckin' awesome."

The girls really were bringing it back from the boys' sudden Bieber obsession.

And you couldn't e more thankful.

"I'm so glad you stopped dressing like Bieber," you told Mike, as you made your way to the final Glee Club lesson of the week, "I was seriously this close to begging you and offering you a hundred dollars just to look like you again."

The boy laughed, "Can I still get the money?"

"Not a chance- Woah!" you exclaimed, walking into the room, spotting Sam and Santana sitting at the front of the class, with the girl's legs thrown over his lap, brushing some hair from his face. Making it clear as day that they were going out. Pointing them out to Mike, you continued, "What the hell?!"

Guess you weren't going to do Santana this weekend.

"Dude, stop," the boy whispered, tugging at your arm," Quinn looks real sad."

"Huh?" Tearing your eyes from the new couple, you found Quinn's downcast look. You felt bad for her that she had to deal with heartbreak, but still, you knew that she only brought this on herself... but that still didn't stop you from caring for her.

You also felt real bad for Sam.

One person you didn't feel bad for? Finn.

You advised him not to go this route, and yet he did.

From your seat beside your sister, you reached foward, placing a comforting upon Quinn's shoulder, pulling her attention from the two. You gave her a soft nod watching as she swallowed her tears away and returned it sadly.

"All right. I hate to say it, but I think we all owe a big thank you. She may hate us, but she gave us a kick-butt song for Regionals."

As your club clapped, Rachel rose her hand into the air, someone having something to say about this, too.

"Mr Schuester." She stood, not liking having been ignored this time. "I think that our admiration for Coach Sylvester might just be a little premature. While I love 'My Chemical Romance', and I think we all kicked butt on that number, as our team leader and arbiter of all that is good, I- I have to say, that I don't think that that song is good enough for Regionals."

"You did not just say that in front of me."

"I didn't know that you liked 'My Chemical Romance'," Mike said from your other side.

"I have ears, don't I?"

Rachel cleared her throat, bringing the attention back to her. "The Warblers have Kurt and Blane as their like, one-two punch, and Aural Intensity kicked our butt last year."

"Because of pandering," you pointed out.

"That aside, we can't just do any song to beat either of those teams."

"You mean a number where you don't get to sing the entire song," Mercedes said.

"Guys, this isn't about me."

"What do you suggest, Rachel?" Mr Schue asked, wanting to get whatever the hell this was over with.

"We-We need to be bold a-and epic," she stated, "We need to write our own original music for Regionals. We need an undisputable advantage."

"Uh, yeah, no. That's a really bad idea."

Santana groaned at your sister, "Check out dwarf Diane Warren."

"Look. We can't lose Regionals again this year, you guys, okay? You- You have to trust me. I feel really, really strongly about this."

"Listen, Rach, I love you. But you gotta see how insane that idea is," you told her, "Yeah, teenagers are able to write some great music. But the percentages are not that great. We're performers, but we're not songwriters."

"But we could be."

"As you said, we need to win Regionals this year, and original songs are not the way to go."

Not wanting to see a Berry sibling bickering match, the teacher said, "Let's put it to a vote. All those in favour of doing an original song?"

Only your sister's hand shot into the air.

"'Chemical Romance'?"

Mouthing a 'sorry' over to your sister, you raised your hand with the rest of your team.

And that concluded the lesson. 

Along with yet another crazy week.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Twelve - (Silly Love Songs) In Sickness and In Love

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: With Finn’s ego, Quinn's jealousy, a conniving Santana, a love/boy obsessed Kurt and Rachel, and acceptable pizza, Valentines was upon the town of Lima, Ohio.

Word Count: 6,161

WARNINGS: Talks of homophobia, Finn being kind of a dick, petty arguments, a fight, Santana being well... Santana, sickness, the return of jealous Quinn (when did she leave tbh?)

(A/N): A Valentines day fic for Christmas? It’s more likely than you think.

-----

"Hey, why aren't you wearing your jacket?"

Closing your locker door, you peered up at your friend like he had grown another head. With your textbooks in arm, you began making your way down the halls, lined with red and pink hearts in celebration of Valentine's day.

"What a great way to greet someone, Finn. Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?" you replied sarcastically to the boy following beside you.

"You helped us win the championship game last week." He pat your shoulders, smiling dopily at all the girls looking at him. "You gotta represent. We're like celebrities right now. Don't you want to show that off?"

"All I want is to get to class and have the freedom to choose my own outfits." You furrowed your brows at him when he continued to peer around at all the gawking high schoolers. Scoffing humouredly, you asked, "You do know that they're only into you because you won the championship game, right?"

"The first conference championship in this school's history," he corrected, shooting finger guns at a group of girls.

"Yeah, and it totally hasn't gone to your head at all."

"Listen, I've changed." Another pat to your shoulder from where he had his arm wrapped around you. "I'm walking taller-"

"That's possible there, Gigantor?"

"-Carrying a bigger stick and using it to fight off the ladies." Finn shook you, making your steps wobble as you walked. "Won't you join me in this?"

Rolling your eyes at him, you replied, "I never needed a football championship for me to "fight off the ladies"." You finished in air quotes.

Before the tall boy could reply, Becky Jackson slid up in front of him, halting you both in place.

"I love you, Finnie-Bear."

"Thanks, Becky." The blonde girl offered him a purple candy heart as a token of her affections. "Oh!"

"Be my Valentine?"

"Awesome, I'll keep you posted."

"Copy that."

"Bye, Becky," you called after her retreating figure, gaining nothing in return, just pure ignorance.

"If you wore your jacket, I'm sure you'd be getting a lot of girls asking you out for Valentine's, too," he tried to convince.

"Yeah, it's not the lack of jacket that's the problem," you said, following him over to his locker, "We live in Ohio, Finn. Girls ain't gonna ask me out in fear of the rampant homophobia. They will only make out or have sex with me because that's kept out of everyone's views."

Instead of receiving some words of understanding or a plain, "Oh, that sucks. Wish you didn't have to deal with that, bro." Finn just gestured to the mini 'McKinley Titans' bucket sitting within his locker, overflowing with multicoloured hearts.

"I've been collecting a lot of hearts lately." He smiled goofily after placing the heart Becky gave him at the top of the pile.

"Are you... even gonna eat those?" No reply. "Finn?" Still, no reply as you store down at the bucket of candy, thinking how that could lead to pests if he kept them in his locker for long, which was likely considering it was Finn. "Finn?" With a second call of his name, you turned to look at the boy, finding that his attention was elsewhere. Following his line of sight, you found the object of his attention.

One Quinn Fabray.

Conversing with her boyfriend by the windows.

Getting a read on the situation immediately, you turned back to the boy with an incredulous, shocked expression.

"No." You shook your head. Finn's attention finally snapped back to you, a look of fear crossing his face when he saw how hard yours was. "You have got to be fuckin' kidding me. Hot her. Not Quinn. She has a boyfriend, dude."

"Well, maybe she doesn't belong with him." He tried to shrug.

"But that's not your decision is it?" Sighing, you shook your head, leaving the boy with one final thing before walking away, "Don't do what she and my sister did to you. You know how much it hurt. Don't have a hand in causing that pain to someone else. Especially to someone as good as Sam."

You just hoped he heard sense and did the right thing.

---

"Alright guys, I have one word for you," Mr Schue announced, as he drew a heart around the word 'love' on the whiteboard in red pen, "Brittany?" he questioned when the girl rose her hand into the air.

"Is it 'love'?"

"Oh my God, you're psychic," you joked.

"I'm totally gonna graduate now!" The blonde danced in her seat beside her boyfriend, making you snort happily into your chest at her antics.

"Valentine's Day is coming up. So for this week's lesson, I want you guys to pick a partner. Because you're gonna sing to them what you think is the worlds. Greatest. Love song."

"Shake that ass for me. Shake that ass for me."

"Y/N," Mr Schue scolded you. All the while, you smiled brightly at your own joke, gaining some chuckles from your surrounding friends as he continued, "I want you guys to find a song that communicates all the things that love means to you. Now, partner up."

"Mr Schue? Can I say something?" Finn asked, raising his hand in the seat behind you. Walking forward into the middle of the floor, he spoke, "I just wanted to point out that, for the first time, an entire week has gone by without any one of us getting slusheed." A round of applause sounded for that, quite frankly, sad achievement. "I think the fact that I led the football team to a conference championship might have something to do with it. Fact is, that I'm the closest thing that this Glee Club has to a celebrity right now."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you mumbled.

Leaning close to you, Santana asked, "Is he for real right now?"

"Sadly, I think he is."

"And just like a famous athlete, I wanna give to a charity. You guys."

"That's insulting."

"So, I'm setting up a kissing booth. For a dollar a smooch and donating the proceeds to Glee Club, to help us-"

"Don't even act like you're trying to help this Glee Club. You just want to kiss a bunch of girls," Mercedes said, seeing through the boy's bullshit instantaneously.

"And I've kissed Finn," Santana pointed out, "And can I just say? "Not worth a buck." I would, however, pay one hundred dollars to jiggle one of his man boobs."

"Oh, oh yeah, me too." You nodded. "In fact, I'll pay two hundred to jiggle both at the same time," you joked, miming the action with your hands.

"Do you ever get tired of tearing other people down?" Finn asked the Latina.

"No, not really."

"I mean, I know that Y/N is only joking because we roast each other all the time." He gestured your way, to which you raised a finger in rebuttal.

"Correction. I roast you, and you try to roast me back, but you're just really, really bad at it."

Rolling his eyes at your words, Finn continued his rant at Santana, "Because you always just seem to be meddling in everybody else's business."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, "You guys love me. I keep it real, and I'm hilarious."

"Truth." You nodded.

"No, actually, you're just a bitch," Zizes countered.

"Also true."

"Excuse me?"

Your eyes widened when she turned your way, looking at you as if to test her and say the wrong thing.

"It's a compliment. You're both. You're versatile... please don't slap me." Quinn glared at the interaction of you trying to smooth things over with the firey girl.

She rose a finger to your face. "Hold on one second." Peering over your shoulder, she spoke to the girl sitting beside Puckerman, "Okay, I'm sorry. You've just got eyes for my man."

"Gross."

"Okay, first of all, I'm not your man."

Coming off of Puck's words, Quinn was quick to agree with the tall bot at the front of the class, "And Finn is right. All you ever do is insult us. Three weeks ago, you said you were disappointed that I didn't have a lizard baby."

"I'm pretty sure I said worse during the sonogram last year," you pointed out in the Latina's "defence".

"Well, five minutes ago, she said Mr Schue belonged in a twelve-step program," Tina said, shocking the teacher stood beside Finn.

"Wait, what?"

"You're addicted to vests," Santana reasoned with a shrug.

"You do own a lot of vests, Mr Schue," you told him, cocking your head to the side, squinting at the vest he wore that day.

Smacking a palm onto her own lap, Quinn turned to snap at you with a glower, "Why are you always defending her?"

"Well, it's simple, really. I'm not a hypocrite."

"But yours aren't as bad as hers," your sister said, pulling your eyes from the blonde before you could see the jealousy radiating from her, "The truth is, Santana-" She turned to speak to her now. "-You can dish it out, but you can't take it."

"Oh, she can take it," you whispered so only yourself and Santana could hear, talking about something entirely different.

"Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I am destined to play the title role in the Broadway musical version of 'Willow', but the only job you're gonna have is working on a pole."

Your jaw dropped at your sister's jab.

But you recovered quickly.

"Way to demonise sex work more than it already is there, Rach. Like it's a bad thing to be a stripper. Anyway, they make a lot of money." You turned to Santana. "You should take that as a compliment."

"There you go defending her again!" Rachel yelled, throwing her arms into the air, letting them drop back down into her lap.

Quinn hated to agree with your sister, but out of her burning jealousy for how close you and Santana had gotten, even more so than you were the year prior, she just couldn't help it.

"You can't tell me that you don't think that was too far," you argued back.

"She has said way worse to us! You just always need to defend her."

"I call her out when it's needed, don't get things twisted-"

"No, you know what, Y/N, it's fine," Sanatana interrupted you, grabbing her things and striding from the room, ignoring the teacher's call of her name.

With a deep sigh, you flung your head back, turning to look at your sister, gesturing to the girl having just exited the choir room, "Look what you did."

Before anyone could say another word, Brittany and yourself were quick to follow after Santana.

It didn't take long for her to be found, sitting on the cold tile floor of a random hallway beside some lockers. You leaned against the metal doors, peering down at the weeping girl as Brittany sat beside the Latina to comfort her.

"Maybe try rocking back and forth. People do that in movies," the blonde offered, brushing some of the dark hair away from Sanatan's face, so it wouldn't get caught up in her tears and stick to her skin.

"No." She shook her head, taking a tear-filled gasp, "Because I just try to be really, really honest with people when I think that they suck, you know?"

"Yeah." Brittany nods in understanding. All the while, you had to cover your mouth so as to not burst out laughing at the situation... you just had to have the ability to laugh in bad situations.

"No one gets it."

After her sobbed words, you removed your hand, nodding to Zizes in greeting as she rounded your small gathering on her way to Puck, to try and make the crying girl feel better.

"Hey San, want me to take you to Breadsitx?"

She gasped tearfully, nodding slightly, with a pitiful yet happy sounding, "Yeah."

"Okay." You nodded back.

Bradstix! The magical thing to make all of Santana's problems go away.

---

You were working on your homework when you smelled it. You'd know that smell anywhere.

And... well, let's just say you could get dramatic with food.

You slammed your hands into Rachel's doorframe, stopping your rushed movements with a wild look upon your face, causing the trio within to let out fearful screams before they realised that it was just you.

"What is wrong with you?" your sister snapped, trying to calm her racing heart.

Blanking her question entirely, far too focused on the scent filling your nose more powerfully now, eyes dancing around the room as you asked a question of your own, "Do I smell-?" Your eyes landed on the glorious food sitting in its box on Rachel's bedside table. Your nose was right! There was pizza! "Yes!" Your excitement stopped only a few inches from the box. Thanks only to the thought that had just occurred to you. Looking over your shoulder at your sister, you asked, "Is it vegan?"

"The cheese is." She nodded happily.

Still sensing your hesitation, Kurt picked up the box, wiggling it at you with a slice in his own hand.

"It's half pepperoni."

"Real pepperoni?" His nod was all you needed to scoop up a slice and shove it into your mouth with a, "That cancels it out."

Rachel rolled her eyes at you, "I forget how good your sense of smell is sometimes."

"I'm like a bloodhound," you spoke around the gigantic bite in your mouth.

Mercedes giggled at you before turning to Kurt, wanting to continue the previous conversation before you scared the hell outta them in your hunt for pizza.

"What were you saying, Kurt?"

"Only that I was absolutely devastated."

You peered at him, confused, needing more context on the situation. Which you soon got in the form of your sister's question, piecing together what the boy's sadness was about.

"Did he ever actually say you two were dating?"

Taking a bite out of his own pizza, the boy followed in your lead and spoke around it, "Well, not in so many words."

"Well, did he put the moves on?"

"Has Blane kissed you?" you asked after Mercedes.

"No, but we were always singing duets, and he was always smiling at me."

"Oh, dude," you voiced pitifully.

With your words and the girls' look back at him from where Rachel was braiding Mercedes' hair, Kurt came to the sudden realisation.

"Oh my God, I made up the whole thing in my head, didn't I?"

"Fraid so." You nodded to the mortified boy.

Mercedes' voice was pitty-filled and comforting when she spoke next, "Listen, we've all been there. At least I have. With you."

"Oh yeah, me too. It sucks."

"Who were you in love with?" Rachel questioned, shocked at the new information.

'Who am I in love with'

"You'll never know," you replied, shaking your head, knowing how much it would annoy her. It's not like you could tell her anyway, even if you wanted to. Which you didn't.

She scoffed before she decided to make the whole thing about herself, "I know exactly what you mean. I mean, i-if Finn thinks that he's just gonna walk out of my life, he's wrong." Spinning on her knees to face Kurt, as she continued her rushed rant, "Because I'm gonna go up to that kissing booth tomorrow with a one hundred dollar bill, and he's not gonna be able to make change. And then he's gonna be forced to kiss me one hundred times, and when his lips touch mine, I'm telling you, he's gonna feel it."

"And by 'it', do you mean the knife you're gonna stab him with, because Jesus Christ," you remarked, eyes wide and fearful, "I know that he's the one who set up the booth, but this just seems to me- Oh, what's that word-? Oh-Oh, I know! Sexual assault. If I were you, I'd just spend that one hundred dollars on jiggling one of his boobs."

Not wanting a rehash of the bickering match from the choir room, Mercedes quickly brought the subject back on track, "Hey, we're supposed to be giving Kurt advice, remember?"

"Yeah," Rachel conceded quietly.

"You are going to The Gap Attack' though, right?"

"Should- Should I?"

"Yes!" Your sister nodded along with Mercedes, holding her white fluffy stuffed monkey you had won for her at the fair as a child to her chest.

"I agree." You nodded too, finishing off your pizza, "Even though I don't know what that is."

"Scope out the competition. Se what this guy's like."

"Oh, now I definitely agree."

"You know, you two are both so guy crazy." Mercedes pointed to the two with the nail file in her hand. "Yeah, look at me. Look at Y/N. We don't have dates for Valentine's Day, and we could not give a rip."

"She's right. I mean, girls don't wanna date me because homophobia," you finished in a sing-song voice, waving your arms about sarcastically, "But still, I don't give a fuck. I mean, I buy enough dinners for Santana and Brittany for it to seem like I'm dating them."

"The three of us are divas. No offence, Y/N."

"None taken."

"Look at our idols: Whitney, Barbra, Patti LuPone. They all became stars while they were single. They took all the pain and loneliness and they put it into their music. People can relate to it. Everybody feels lonely. Harnessing this pain is why they became legends."

"Why has this never occurred to me?" Rachel asked, looking as if she had all of the world's secrets explained to her.

"Sometimes you have to choose between love and talent, and as far as I'm concerned, we all need to fly solo for a while."

"As long as I can still have sex."

With a sad smile, Kurt said, "It's so nice to be around girls for a change."

Rachel 'awwed' at the boy, moving to lay beside him, resting her back against the headboard, and turned to face you and asked, "Y/N, do you wanna join us? We're gonna watch a marathon of our favourite musicals." You looked down at her with a scrunched face, but with a smile and a wiggle of her shoulders, she offered the thing she knew would get you to break, "We can also watch 'Beetlejuice'."

"I'm in," you stated instantly, throwing yourself onto the free space on the mattress, causing the three to bounce with giggles.

"You know what we should do?" Mercedes started, patting at your abdomen, "You should get into your favourite PJs, and then we could pamper you. Do your nails, give you a facial, even one of Kurt's fancy skin routines."

"Oh, don't forget the hair mask," the boy called.

Sitting up, you uttered, "I'm gonna need more pizza." Before you were shoved back down on your back by the three laughing teenagers, intent on indoctrinating you into their world for one night.

---

Puckerman had become vastly more tolerable in the midst of his crush upon one Lauren Zizes. So, in turn, you were more willing to help the boy in the song he had chosen to dedicate to the young woman with the Glee boys, no matter how questionable it was.

What could you say?

You loved Queen.

However, no matter how good the song and performance was, it couldn't stop two things.

One: How terrible it made Zizes feel.

And two: How pissed Santana got at not being the vocal point of the song.

Luckily, you were able to escape Lauren's reaction as you pilled out of the room with the rest of your club and its director. Carrying Tina on your back as you strode beside her boyfriend, chatting with the two. The girl poked at your cheek.

"Your skin is like super soft."

"The girls and Kurt pulled me into their slumber party last night, and they... did things to me."

Mike laughed at your dramatised words, his girlfriend still marvelling at your soft skin.

"See, Mikey. I really am stealing your girlfriend."

"Ohm shut up," he laughed in return.

---

The day was going to end in a headache. You just knew it. And it was all Finn Hudson's fault.

His stupid kissing booth had driven all the girls in the God damn school crazy. Their shrieks could be heard echoing down each and every hall, ringing in everyone's ears.

It was at moments like this that you regretted even helping the football team in winning the championship game.

You just wanted to go to school in peace and not have to deal with girls screaming over a kissing booth, blocking a good portion of a hallway so that everywhere you looked, you spotted the tall boy.

"Did you really have to make a whole farce about this thing?" you asked, strutting over to his side of the booth, hand on the strap of your backpack, interrupting his just before he could pucker up with some random student.

"I don't know what that means." Finn pointed your way. "But I'm gonna take it as a good thing. Don't you think this is cool?"

Your brows scrunched, scrutinizing the boy with your look, not that he noticed. All the while, he peered up at his wooden construction, beaming happily, as the girl waited patiently with a smile on her face and a dollar in hand.

"There are many words I have for this, and not one of them is "cool"."

A soft clearing of a throat pulled you to the girl -And the long line waiting behind her- still waiting for her kiss.

"If you'd excuse me for a moment, Y/N. Duty calls," Finn told you smugly.

"That her name?"

After delivering a peck to the girl's lips, up rushed Becky Jackson, with a fanned-out stack of ones in her hand.

"I want tongue."

"You want what now, Becky?" you asked, shocked at the girl's forwardness.

"Uh..." Finn awkwardly plucked one of the bills from her grasp, "Thanks, Becky." He then delivered a vocal kiss to her cheek, leaving the girl to turn and giggle to herself excitedly.

"They're all insane." You muttered to yourself, sights glued onto the mass of waiting teenagers.

Then a dinging sounded.

"You baking a cake down there, or something?" you asked, leaning back to take a peak under the wooden stall.

The boy chuckled, "No." Then he spoke to the awaiting crowd. "Sorry, ladies. Brush and floss time. I gotta keep up with the oral hygiene if I'm gonna satisfy all of you, sorry."

"Well, at least you're somewhat health conscious." Looking around as the boy spun away from the booth, you spotted one Quinn Fabray strutting through the dispanded crowd of disappointed teenagers, eyes widening at the sight. "Uh-Oh." Finn looked your way, a curious look on his face, which you were quick to explain, "Dude, Quinn's coming, and U gotta go. She's still pissed at me for the whole Santana situation, and I might have also bumped into her car and spilt coffee all over her windshield, so have fun."

And with that, you scarpered off down the hall, leaving the boy to the metaphorical wolves, unknown to the blonde's true intentions, and that they weren't with you, but the dopey boy.

She still didn't know about the coffee covering her car.

Later that same day, brought forth another Glee Club meeting.

Brittany jumped on her boyfriend's lap after his shared performance with Mike, dedicated to their girlfriends, with a, "That's my man, and his legs don't work."

"Tenderoni!"

"Tender-what-now?" you asked, turning to Finn, amused by the boy's yell.

Tina, however, pressed herself up against her boyfriend, staring deep into his eyes, "I'm so in love, I may just start crying." Finishing it off with a kiss.

"Oh God, please don't. I've seen you cry enough for a lifetime," you called over as a joke.

"I don't cry that much," she countered, which you scoffed at.

"Tina, you cried when you saw a duckling two days ago."

"It was so small and fuzzy!" Tina began tearing up again.

'Case and point'

---

The week had started with a fight involving Santana.

So, it only made sense that that would continue.

Not that you expected it to get violent... though you weren't entirely surprised, considering her track record.

Why you always turned corners and found a fight, you never knew. Just had to be your "luck".

"What the fuck?!" you exclaimed, watching as with a loud clang, Santana was thrown into a set of lockers by Lauren Zizes. A "Jesus Christ!" spilt out when the Latina bit the girl's calf in revenge before she was flung into another set of lockers... and another.

"Hey, stop!"

Puckerman stopped you when you tried to rush over and halt the fighting girls with his hands upon your shoulders, grinning at the sight. "Dude, what are you doing?" You shrugged him off.

"Do you really wanna get in the way of those two fighting?"

No, you didn't.

Aghast, you gestured over to the fighting teens as Santana struggled to fling the girl around in retaliation. "Lauren will kill her."

With an easy one-handed grip, Lauren flung the Latina into the lockers once more, the whole hall watching as she crumpled to the floor. Picking her up again, just to repeat the action as Santana screamed.

"Zizes, that's enough!"

The girl didn't listen. Instead, she slid her across the shiny floor, like she was curling in the Olympics, and right into the football coach's feet.

"Hey! Knock it off and get going!"

Rushing over, you stabilised Santana as she clumsily tried to get up, stumbling forward as you caught her.

"Yeah, that's how we do it in Lima Heights!"

"Okay, it sure is, honey," you placated her, hoisting her up into your arms, carrying her bridal style.

"Let's get her to the nurse." Beiste waved for you to follow.

Strolling down the hall with Santana in your arms, you passed by many of your friends. Namely Sam and Quinn.

The ex-cheerleader looked beyond confused by the Latina's predicament. And the fact that you were carrying her in such a way.

You shrugged as best you could around the girl in your arms, opting to explain, "Zizes kicked her ass."

"I took her to Lima Heights!" she slurred loudly.

"Yes, you did," you obviously lied to the girl, as if you were talking to a child, watching as she re-positioned herself to lay on your shoulder. Only you weren't the only person to see this.

Too busy looking at Santana, you didn't notice the look that crossed Quinn's face. That of jealous anger. Peering over your shoulder, the only thing you found was the blonde strutting away, Sam on her heels, in the direction of Finn's kissing booth.

---

The next day brought on yet another love-filled Glee Club meeting. Chancing a glance over your shoulder as you waited for the Spanish teacher to arrive, you spotted Santana with a look you had seen many times over the years you had known her. One that was conniving and filled with revenge.

In a whisper, you spoke up to her, "You're plotting something, aren't you?" Only receiving a smile that could rival the Grinch in return.

You didn't know what her plan could be about, but if you had to guess, you thought that it could possibly have something to do with that guilty look on Finn's face.

You only wished you were wrong in what you thought it was.

You were at your locker later that day, gathering your books for your next class. When your attention was brought to the girl striding down the halls, who came to a halt in front of you.

"Close your mouth. You'll end up catching flies."

If there was one thing you were thankful for with Santana's plots, it was that nine out of ten times, it involved her dressing in something insanely hot.

"Why are you wearing that?" you asked, looking her up and down, from her knee-high white socks, past her candy-striper nurse dress, all the way to the little hat/headband on her head.

"I just had to attend to some sick patients." Santana smiled, reaching over to hold the strap of your backpack that you had flung over your shoulder. "And I think I see another one in front of me."

Catching on fairly quickly, you flirted back, "Last time I checked, I wasn't sick."

"That's just the fever talking."

With a sharp tug, you were led down an empty hallway, all the way to a janitorial closet. But, before your lips could touch hers, she paused you with a hand on your chest.

"I have to warn you, I definitely have mono."

"How-?"

"Don't ask."

Silently, you weighed your options, coming to one conclusion: It was worth it.

And you proved that by making out with Santana until you were both insanely late for your next classes.

Sitting in between Brittany and Mike the next day during Glee Club, you felt nothing short of terrible. And only to add onto that, Finn stood at the front of the class. Also looking worse for wear, with an envelope full of cash in his hand.

With a heavy sigh, the boy began to speak, "Well... I did it. I kissed every girl in this school and raised three hundred and twenty-four dollars for the Glee Club."

Being handed the giant stack of ones, the teacher replied, "All right, Finn, thanks. That'll pay for half a ticket to nationals, so... huh, still a long way to go."

"Yeah, thanks for kissing a lot of girls, Finn. You really helped us out with that one."

"You all right?" Mr Schue asked as the boy stumbled off to his seat beside Tina, "Okay. Now I believe it's time to hear what the world's greatest love song means to Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. Come on up."

You startled slightly at the applause that sounded for the girl, quick to do the same in your ill state.

"This is for you, Mike. Happy Valentine's Day."

You could hardly pay attention to the girl's tear-filled performance, too busy trying to keep your eyes open in your seat. Only snapping out of your sick-induced haze when Finn rose his hand and spoke.

"Mr Schue, can I be excused? I don't feel well."

"Me either," Quinn piped up, "I feel sick."

"Yeah, same." You nodded, blinking harshly, as you swallowed around your burning throat.

And now, just as you were expecting, Santana moved into the next phase of her plan.

"Let me guess. You have a sore throat, your glands are swollen, and you're feverish."

"Yeah," Finn replied after mentally checking off his symptoms, "Yeah, which is why I need to go to the nurse."

"It sounded like you have mono. Otherwise known as "the kissing disease". But you know what really helps spread it? A little tongue," Santana continued, "Which is weird because it sounds like Quinn here has it too. And Y/N for some reason."

Slowly, you turned to glare over your shoulder at the Latina for doing this to you, even though it was your choice entirely. All the while, Quinn fidgeted in her seat awkwardly, rubbing at her face, trying to make herself feel better somehow.

"I was there when they kissed," Sam said, "It was just a peck."

"And what's your excuse?" your sister asked you suspiciously.

Even sick, you were able to reply sarcastically, "Oh yeah, I made out with both Finn and Quinn. It was a little group action." With a scoff, you reiterated, "It must have been that cheerleader I made out with. Or that other cheerleader, Or that other cheerleader." A smirk took over your face now. "Or that other cheerleader. I mean, she practically stuck her tongue down my throat."

Having enough of your words, Quinn snapped, slapping at her thighs, "Can we stop talking about tonguing, and us three go to the nurse?"

"You know what? I think that is a capital idea."

"I'm not going to the nurse," you said weakly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

Stopping halfway to the door, Quinn turned to look at you, "What?" she asked, almost insulted at your unwillingness to take care of yourself.

Digging in your pocket, you finally found your car keys, flinging them towards your sister, just able to for them to land in her lap with your weak state. "Drive me home," you groaned, rising from your seat, feeling like Bambi walking for the first time.

"But I have school to do."

"But you love me more."

One moment you were walking from the choir room with Rachel in toe, the next, you were getting settled in bed as she smoothed the blankets over your feverish body.

"I'm gonna call dad. He'll take care of you, okay?"

You nodded sickly. "Okay. Thanks, Rach."

The brunette stood awkwardly at your bedside, just watching as you slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

While she still had the chance, she asked, "Did you kiss Quinn?"

"No." A shake of your head. "And for the record, I didn't kiss Finn either." You groaned painfully after the loud snort you gave at your own joke, the action causing pain to shoot through your throat.

Quickly, Rachel moved to hand you your glass of water, rubbing your back as you sipped the drink.

"I'm gonna go call dad."

Before she could exit the room, you called for her, stopping her in the doorway. "Thank you. If you didn't drive me home, I'd still probably be stuck in the nurse's office with the other "kiss diseased" ones."

"Well, when you threatened to burn my Funny Girl DVD, that was all the incentive I needed." Her smile told you that she would have done it no matter what.

---

A couple days later and you were up and running again, able to go with Rachel to the Valentine's themed performance the Warblers were holding at Breadstix.

You saw them before she did. Or at all, really.

"Mind if we join you?" Mercedes asked with her arms folded over the booth, just behind Rachel, making the diva jump in her seat. Mike and Tina following.

"We would love that," she replied after coming down from the initial scare.

"The more the merrier," you added with a smile.

"How come you're not still in bed like Finn and Quinn?" the boy asked, from the end of the table.

You shrugged, glancing through the menu. "I've had mono a few times before, I can get over it pretty quick."

"When have you had mono?"

"Well..." You thought back to a time she would remember. Coincidently, it was the first time you had ever contracted the disease. "You remember when you had that ballet recital, and once it was over, I threw up in the parking lot? Yeah, that was mono."

Rachel evaluated you in shock for a few seconds, "That was five years ago."

"Yeah."

"You were twelve."

"Actually, I was thirteen."

"That doesn't make it much better!"

Before you could continue to entertain your friends with your sibling bickering match, the sound of microphone feedback filled the room, followed by your friend's voice.

"Testing, one, two, three. Testing, one, two, three."

"We hear you!" you called to him, cupping your hands around your mouth.

"All right, thank you, Y//N. So, happy Valentine's Day, everybody. For those of you Breadstix patrons who don't know who I am, I am Kurt Hummel."

You whooped at that, yelling, "Kurt, I'm your number one fan!" Gaining chuckles from the restaurant, along with an eye roll from the boy.

"Don't mind my friend, they have several screws loose."

"Yeah!"

"Anyway, I would like to welcome you all to my first ever 'Lonely Hearts Club' dinner. Whether you are single with hope, or madly in love and are here because I forced you to come out and support me, sit back and enjoy. And to all the singles out there..." You watched him intently, smiling at what he was about to say, "This is our year."

"Hell yeah, it is!"

During the performance, you had vaulted over the booth and right into the seat in front of Santana. After Blane had targeted a lyric at her, pointing out that she was alone.

The Latina smiled in appreciation, watching as you leaned over the small table to utter, "Guess I'm buying you Breadsitx twice this week."

Meeting you halfway, she whispered her reply, "If you thought you had mono before you're not gonna know whats hit you after tonight."

Your smile fell at that.

"Don't threaten me like that. I'll make you by your own desert."

At your "threat", Santana lifted her hands in surrender, sharing a smile with you.

Maybe this week wasn't so bad after all.

Not including the sickness, of course.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

It’s finally here! The updated dates!

Berry Blues

Season Two Release Dates

First Quarter

Part One - (Audition) You Gotta Love Blackmail

Part Two - (Britney/Brittany) There’s Drugs. And There’s Whatever the Hell That Is

Part Three - (Grilled Cheesus) All Hail The Purple Dwarf!

Part Four - (Duets) So. Many. Catholic. Jokes

Part Five - (Rocky Horror Glee Show) The Tale of The Creepy Teacher

Second Quarter

(Alternative names will be added soon)

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Part Seven - (The Substitute) Random Confessions of Love

Part Eight - (Furt) It’s a Nice Day For a Black and Blue Wedding

Part Nine - (Special Education) Fuckin’ Relationship Drama

Part Ten - (A Very Glee Christmas) To Keep Santa Alive

Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) It’s All About Football

Third Quarter

21/12/22 – Part Twelve - (Silly Love Songs) In Sickness and in Love

28/12/22 – Part Thirteen - (Comeback) 

4/1/23 – Part Fourteen - (Blame it on the Alcohol) 

11/1/23 – Part Fifteen - (Sexy) 

18/1/23 – Part Sixteen - (Original Song) 

Fourth Quarter

(TBA)

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) Its All About Football

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Who knew that thrusting the bully filled football team and the glee club that they target would lead to such chaos? Honestly, you probably should have expected as much.

Word Count: 9,317

WARNINGS: Anger, violence, eating things that you shouldn’t, almost cheating.

(A/N): Sorry for the short delay, I have recently gotten terribly sick, and am still going through it.

-----

The new year had sprung, and with it, new experiences. Ones that weren't necessarily good.

With one of your feet resting upon the back of a chair, you slouched in another. Awaiting the arrival of the Glee Club's Director so that the lesson could finally start.

Soaked through, stained red, frozen, and with sloppy ice laying upon him, in rolled Arite. His presence being announced by a pitying Tina.

"Oh, my God. Artie."

Anger filled you as Brittany rushed down to attend to her boyfriend, instantly realising who had done this, no proof necessary.

"It was awful," the boy whimpered.

Finn Hudson felt the same way you did, outrage flowing through his veins, causing his limbs to shake.

"That's it," he seethed, "Screw rehearsal! This ends here and now."

"Oh, hell yeah!" you yelled, jumping up from your seat, following the boys that all wore letterman jackets, much to the displeasure of Quinn and your sister.

"We're gonna go all Thunderdome on those guys!"

You would have questioned Puck's reference if it weren't for the objects of your anger striding through the doors of the choir room themselves. Wearing letterman jackets of their own, suddenly you stuck out like a sore thumb in the mass of football players.

"So, this is what the ladies' lounge looks like on the inside."

"This is the choir room," Sam replied to the curly-haired blonde jock, "Now, put up your fists because you and I are gonna do some dancin'."

Ever wanting to be the leader, Finn reached out a hand to the boy's chest, stopping him from advancing, altho pointlessly as he didn't even make to move towards the group, as they chuckled in reply.

"No, I got this, Sam."

Insulted, the boy quickly shoved his arm away from his body.

"There's too much talking, not enough fighting, for my liking."

The same football player scoffed at you, "Yeah, you sure put up a fight against us last time."

"Well, maybe this time we can go one-on-one, instead of five of you fuckers ganging up on me like a bunch of pussies. Ask Karofsky. I'm sure he would be happy to tell ya' how well I fair in a fair fight."

The boy in question rolled his eyes, trying to act tough in front of his friends, deciding to change the subject before you ended up showing them all the proof to your statement.

"Coach Beiste told us to come. Where is she?"

As it turns out, right behind the. Along with Mr Schuester.

"Watching it." She pushed through the boys, gesturing to the maroon chairs. "Everyone have a seat."

"You too, guys," Mr Schue said, "All right. New Directions," he continued once everyone had done as told, standing side by side with the coach, preparing to give the announcement, "Let's give a warm welcome to the newest members of Glee Club."

There was outrage all around.

The Glee Club members insulted by the presence of their main tormenters infiltrating their safe space.

And the jocks. Purely because they thought it was lame or "gay", and they were far too worried about how they -and others- were perceived to understand that people do things purely because they enjoyed it. No matter how it could make them look on the outside to everyone else.

"Oh, hell to the no, Mr Schue!" Mercedes yelled over all the riot, "Are you serious?!"

"This is some sick God damn joke, and I do not appreciate it!"

The teacher rose his hands, trying to calm the teenagers, as Azimio jumped to his feet. As Coach Beiste commanded them to with a couple,

"hey"s.

"Are you serious?" Finn stood up now in outrage. "These are the guys who made Kurt transfer."

"Mainly one," you bit, harsh glare directed towards Karofsky.

"And there's no way I am sharing the choir room with a known homophobe," your sister spoke, pointing at the boy who couldn't make eye contact with anyone in the room, herself.

"I don't disagree with you guys."

"So why are they here?!" you yelled, jumping up yourself, "Why is he here?!"

"Because Y/N, I talked to Coach Beiste about it, and she and I both agreed that the kind of bullying that David does is born out of ignorance. Sit down, Y/N."

A hot breath slowly exited your nose as you steadily lowered yourself back into the chair beside your sister. Fixing the man with a death stare for your troubles, thanks to how angry you were.

"Having him in here, as difficult as it may be for us, is an opportunity to show him and the rest of the guys that being in Glee Club is kind of cool. You know, find some common ground."

Coach Beiste took over the man's speech, pointing a hand towards the football players gathering on the left side of the room. "All of you are gonna be in this Glee Club for one week. No exceptions."

"She's bluffing," Karofsky told his buddies, "Next week is the championship game. Without us, she has no team."

"With you, have no team! You guys have gotta find a way to come together, or we're gonna get our asses kicked from here until Tuesday finds a saddlebag full of buckwheat."

You still didn't get her metaphors.

"If I have to stay, I'm not singing no show tunes," Azimio voiced, "That is the music of my oppressors."

"Do you even have any idea what we do in here?" Finn questioned in exasperation.

"No." Mr Schue shook his head. "None of them do. We have to show them. Rachel, Puck. Haven't you guys been working on something? Why don't you give it a whirl?"

"Fine. As offended as I am by their presence here, I won't let anything get in the way of a performance," she stated as Puckerman angrily removed his jacket, shooting the jocks a glare as he reached for his guitar.

After that, quite frankly, in your opinion, disgusting performance between the delinquent and your sister. Including the boy making threatening moves toward the football players, everything seemed calm once the song ended. A lull in the tense atmosphere. Until it was brought back tenfold. Making you roll your eyes at Azimio's words.

"The girl with the mohawk had a really nice voice."

Puckerman smiled towards him sarcastically, acting as if he were in on the joke, removing his guitar. Before the instrument was soon turned into a weapon, and he rushed the boy.

Everyone jumped up then.

Some to stop the attempted violence.

Others to join it.

You were one of the latter.

Or so you tried to be.

With Quinn pushing at your chest, keeping you away from the fray whilst still hurling her yells at the jocks. And Mike, with his arms wrapped around yours, tugging with the blonde's pushes.

"You've had some shitty ideas in your time, Mr Schue! But this one takes the cake!"

His eyes fluttered at your words, his back pressing against the coach's who held Puckerman at bay, also trying to stop the group of teens from going full gladiator mode against each other.

"Great first day, right?" he remarked sarcastically, Beiste returning it with her own statement.

"Awesome!"

It was like you had gone deaf.

One second, cries of anger filled the room. The next? Nothing.

And that was all thanks to one thing.

One sight you caught out of the corner of your eye.

The wild kicking of your sister's tight-clad legs thanks to being hoisted into the air. The perpetrator? A random jock who had been forced into the club for the week. Stopping her from pouncing onto one of his teammates.

Quinn grew worried at your sudden silence and lack of movement, Mike's head poking around to see why you had stopped, considering that was so unlike you.

They didn't have the chance to follow your line of sight as you dropped to a bend, easily slipping out of Mike's distracted hold, causing Quinn to tumble into the Asian boy.

"Oh, so you wanna die today?!" your roar made the others in the room pause mid-action, turning to face where you now stood facing the boy holding your sister still.

The same boy whose eyes were wide as saucers, with enough fear in them to rival someone staring down the barrel of a gun.

Quickly dropping your sister, the jock high-tailed it outta there. But you weren't about to stand for that, chasing him instantly.

Taking any means necessary to defend your sister, including using all your skill to jump onto the piano in one steep step, using it as a means of a shortcut as the boy rushed through the door.

With you not too far behind him, Mercedes yelled, "He's gonna see God!"

---

You were still furious after that whole ordeal in Glee Club. And after punching a bag of sand didn't seem to help, you decided to take a jog around the track.

Only for your jogged movements to stumble into a stop at the giant flame-painted 'WHMS' cannon sat in the middle of the football field. Mouth dropped in pure confused disbelief, so much more so that you hardly noticed the head cheerleader walking up to you.

"What's with the cannon?" you asked her dumbfounded, pointing towards the object when she paused beside you, the other Cheerios walking by, heading back into the warmer school.

"Sue bought it."

"She a pirate now?"

"She's planning on shooting Brittany out of it."

"Right." You nodded before her words finally sank into you and got you to tear your sights off of the dangerous contraption and peer down at the girl. "Wait. What?!"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna talk to Mr Schue about it right now."

"You want me to come with?"

She shook her head in denial, hands deep in her jacket pockets, "I'll be fine. Hey, uh, what happened to that guy you were chasing?"

"He's really fast," you grumbled, eyes glaring down at the ground below you. "He got to his car and drove off before I could reach him."

"I can't say I'm not glad. Don't want you to be suspended again. Or worse. Going to prison for murdering him."

Huffing, you folded your arms across your chest, pointedly not looking at the blonde.

"Come on." A cold palm rubbed against your arm, coaxing you to look up at its owner. "You know I'm right."

"Doesn't mean I can't be mad about it," you mumbled.

"Has anyone ever said you're like a big baby?"

"No. But apparently, I did drink your breast milk, so it only makes sense."

"You're disgusting." Quinn smiled.

"You love me."

'I love you'

---

He wouldn't look at you.

There you were, bracketed in between two cheerleaders, each with tight grips upon your forearms, glaring over at the boy who had grabbed your sister.

You weren't planning on storming him... much.

But thanks to Santana and Brittany's hold upon you, you weren't able to, no matter what. Knowing how feisty Santana would get, especially if Brittany were involved.

But you were still so deep into your glare that you had entirely blanked what Mr Scuester had been saying.

That was until Karofaky voiced his outcry.

"No fricking way!"

Finally, you turned to face your teacher as he spoke, "We don't have a choice. Sue pulled the Cheerios from the game, so if we don't do it, there's no halftime show."

"And this is a problem because?" Zizes pressed.

"Well, isn't the halftime show the best thing about a football game?" you remarked, but Coach Beiste decided to give an answer of her own.

"It's not a problem. It's an opportunity."

"Opportunity to humiliate ourselves," the curly blonde football player replied.

"Hey. The whole point of this week was to bring you guys together. To bring the school together."

"Wait, so you want us to play the first half, change into some "sequin" ball gowns, and then go out and do the halftime show at our own championship game?" Azimio asked his coach.

"Yes."

"You're gonna be tired," you poked fun at the jocks in a sing-song voice as they groaned.

"It's the championship game!" Azimio jumped up. "This is a crazy town! This is crazy!"

"What about the Cheerios in Glee Club?" Finn asked over the other jocks' squabbling.

"They have a choice," Mr Schue stated, "Us. Or the Cheerios competition."

"Well, obviously Quinn is gonna choose the Cheerios," your sister remarked bitterly, gesturing down to the blonde seated beside Brittany.

"How do you know that?" you asked as Quinn shot her a glare.

"Yeah, that's not fair," Finn joined ranks with you, "You don't know what she's gonna do."

"I think the cheerleading is gonna be a lot of fun," Mr Schuester stated, still hoping to coax them into staying with his next words, "But if you go, you're gonna miss out on us doing the most iconic song of all time."

"Spooky?" you questioned.

"Yes, Y/N. "Spooky"." He pointed your way. "In fact, the Super Bowl of pop anthems: 'Thriller'."

The Glee Club side of the room grew excited by the news, as the jocks looked less than pleased.

"Yeah, remember a few years ago when that Philippine prison did that mega performance of 'Thriller' and put it on YouTube?" Now, in the four months it took to rehearse that number, prisoner-on-prisoner crime dropped eighty per cent. Doing that. Together. As a team. Created a unity within that prison. And that's what I'm looking to do here."

"Send us to prison?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you know. I'm big on Micheal and everything, but isn't that kinda what they're expecting us to do?" Mercedes asked, shrugging her shoulders, with her arms still deep within the pockets of her hoodie.

Pointing to the girl, Mr Schuester was happy to continue his announcement, "Which is why we're gonna mash it together with the 'Yeah Yeah Yeahs' equally spooky single, 'Heads Will Roll'."

"Oh, this is gonna be so cool," you gushed to yourself.

"Who's 'Yeah Yeah Yeah'?"

At Azimio's question, you called over, "They're a band, big guy."

"New Directions," Beiste spoke to the club, turning to her football members, "Titans. We're going to zombie camp." To which she solidified with a sharp blow of her whistle.

---

'Zombie Camp' was fun.

Even with the football players shoving one another thanks to their stumbling feet.

But by the end of the first lesson, the team and football players were at least making some good progress. And your director seemed to think so too, with his clapping.

"All right. Nice progress, guys. Let's take a breather, and I'll see you in the choir room for a lesson in zombie make-up."

"Make-up?" Azimio voiced affronted, following after the group as members of the Glee Club kept up the zombie act, "No, no, no, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," his coach countered.

"It's not make-up like that."

"How else could it be?" he asked you.

"It's not the kind that makes you look pretty," you explained, gesturing your arms around, "This stuff is meant to make you look gross and gory."

"That sounds a bit better, I guess," the large boy mumbled.

You were mid-way through your zombi make-up, working on the giant gash across your face, when you spotted the football player by your side, about to smush something into his eye. Something that he thought was regular make-up.

Snapping your hand out, you grasped his wrist mear inches from his face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why not?"

"That stuff will glue your eye shut. Trust me, I've done it before. Lost like fifteen eyelashes ripping it open."

The boy dropped the sponge onto the table, reacting like the thing had just bit them and it was poisonous.

"Yeah, wise decision."

---

"What did you get on the math homework yesterday?"

Turning to Sam as you walked down the school's halls, you asked, "We had math homework?"

The blonde boy looked at you obviously, making the small amount of dread he had given you to flood larger.

"Shit."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you can talk to her about it," the boy said, referencing your math teacher and patting your shoulder.

"Oh, you are so naive." You recognised that voice, even from almost halfway down the hall. Quinn. "This whole school is about labels."

"Wow." You also knew that scoffed tone. Finn.

Patting Sam a few times against his arm, you pointed out the two squabbling teenagers before you were about to round the corner. Literally pointing them out, as you said, "Uh, dude."

"I never realised you were so freaking weak."

"Oh? I-"

"What did you say?"

Finn spun at the sound of Sam's voice, only to spot you side by side with the blonde.

"All the Cheerios quit Glee Club."

You peered over to Quinn to see if it were true. Who silently shook her head and shrugged at your sadly.

"So, why are you yelling at my girlfriend about it?"

"I'm yelling at her because I'm the leader of this team."

"You are swimming in hypocrisy, Finn," you told the boy, who looked confuddled beyond belief.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that you're acting all high and mighty for someone who's done the exact same thing. Or do I have to remind you of how you ditched the club, too, in favour of being on the football team last year?"

"That's not the same!" he tried to excuse, "I didn't have any other choice."

"Yes, you did. You had the same choice that Quinn had now."

"But I made it better. And I felt really bad about it!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she feels pretty fuckin' bad about it, too."

Quinn's eyes fluttered at you, shoulders dropping softly, suddenly so thankful you were here.

"Why are you always sticking up for her? For everything," the tall boy sneered, "You've got a problem with me acting like this, being a leader, but you have no issue with her?"

"Well, maybe it's time for a change at the top," Sam jumped back in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This is kinda hot, actually."

At Quinn's words, you took a glance at her before processing her words and looking at her properly.

"Good to know," you said with a nod. Receiving a light push t your arm from the girl's boyfriend, to which you playfully tapped his own back in retaliation.

Finn, who had also been looking at the girl over his shoulder, turned back once Sam began talking again, giving you the opportune chance to lean over to her with your whispered question.

"That includes my participation too, right?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at you dramatically. The smile she tried to force away told you all you had to know. Making a confident grin pull across your own face.

"It means that maybe the reason everyone hates us is because we need some new leadership," Sam gave the boy some, quite honest, truth, "Face it, you've had your feet in both worlds for a year now and never been able to bring them together. I guarantee you, if Y/N were on the football team-" He gestured to you, using you as an example for his point. "-Things would be in harmony right now."

"Thanks, man." You smiled, catching Finn glaring at you. "What? I'm not allowed to take a compliment?"

"Point is," Sam stressed, continuing, "Maybe someone else could."

"What? As in maybe, you?"

"Or me, apparently."

"As in yes," Sam replied to Finn.

"Well, maybe we should settle this right now," Finn challenged.

"Bring it." Sam pushed the boy ever so lightly.

Pushing the blonde back in his chest, Finn replied, "Brung."

"Oh, well, this is childish," you stated, watching as the boys carried on shoving each other, getting harsher each time.

Quinn thought the same thing as you, watching them with judging eyes.

"Yeah, you want some more of that? You like that?" Finn egged him on.

"Really, guys? Really?"

"What are you doing?" you squinted at the two. "This isn't how you fight. Throw a punch- Ow!" Rubbing at the now sore skin under the shirt of your arm, you looked wide-eyed at Quinn after the glaring blonde had just pinched you. Which you decided to use to your advantage. "Yeah, even start pinching. That'll be better than this shoving bullshit."

Before the boys' "fight" could grow any harsher, Mr Schue jumped in between them with a yell.

"Hey, hey. How many fights do I have to break up this week?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Schue. That wasn't a fight." You waved the man off, to which you went ignored at the teacher was still far too focused on keeping the boys separated.

"Now, calm down. And get back to Glee Club." He tugged Sam around, pushing him down the corridor. "Come on."

"Hope to see you there," Finn said, turning to Quinn before walking off himself.

You rolled your eyes at the boy's departing form.

"Don't listen to him..." you would have said more to the Cheerio if you hadn't gotten so distracted. Now beaming at her brightly.

"Why are you smiling?"

You gestured to the gold necklace you had gotten her for Christmas, hanging around her neck, below her signature gold cross. "You're wearing it."

"Of course I am." She lightly pushed your shoulder. A sad look began to take over her eyes as she took a step backwards. "Now, get going. You're gonna miss Glee Club."

As you watched the blonde leave, you could only think one this.

'Screw Sue for making her do this'

---

You were awarded the temporary title of 'Honoury Football Player', even including a jacket of your own, just for this performance with the guys from the Glee Club and the jocks.

Zombie makeup and movements fully ingrained into you by the end of the performance of 'She's Not There'.

Rounding the green auditorium chairs, Mr Schuester came to the foot of the stage, slapping the file onto the. "Guys." Momentarily looking back to a shrugging Beiste. "Awesome!"

A breath of relief flowed through you after the teacher's psych-out.

"All you football players, nailing that zombies classic on- on the first time out. I am impressed."

"Now get your butt's into the locker room and get cleaned up." Beiste stood up.

"Thank God, this stuff's uncomfortable."

The students and faculty of William McKinley High School felt like they had suddenly walked into a horror movie, one where their entire football team turned into jock zombies and now patrolled the halls of their school like phantoms of the day.

Being stopped only by a gang of hockey players.

"Appropriate outfits," the ring leader said, "They represent the death of your guys' reign at this school."

"How many times do we have to put you puck-head in place before you realise that football rules this school?"

"I forgot we had a hockey team," you mumble to yourself from beside Azimio, "They must suck worse than you guys did last year."

Azimio hummed at your words, nodding in agreement.

"Maybe, but not after you make dancing fools of yourselves at that halftime show."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you remarked, raising your hands up into the air, "Is it that, or just the fact that you guys don't have big enough balls to do it yourselves."

Shocking yourself at how quick you were to defend the football players that tortured your team, not even including what they -Karofsky- had done to Kurt.

The leader scoffed at you, shaking his head.

"Come on. You know it, and we know it. The whole school knows it."

"Yeah, I don't take criticism from people who have mullets worse than the 80s."

"And anyway, they'll think differently after they see it," Karofsky jumped in now, "It's gonna be awesome."

"Holy crap. They turned Karofsky gay," the "puck-head" laughed, gaining a chuckle from his teammates.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "You can't turn people gay. It's in their DNA, I know we live in Ohio, but you should know what that is at the very least."

"What are you moose knuckles doing with those slushies?" Puckerman brought everyone's attention to the filled cups within their hands.

"Ready for the fireworks? It's independence day."

"Cover your eyes!" you yelled as a warning to the football players that had never experienced the pain of the ice-cold drink before.

Even with your warning, the stinging juices still managed to trickle and splash into their eyes.

Minutes later, you were in the boy's locker room washing the drink from your eyes and face as the football players whimpered in pain.

"Agh, my eyes!" Karofsky grunted in pain, "Burning."

"Just relax. It stops after a couple of hours," Finn said, as all the glee clubbers reacted to being slushies as if it were nothing, just proceeding to clean their faces of the zombie make-up.

"I tend to sleep it off if I can," you advised, walking forward towards the long-haired Hawaiian football player, struggling to get the stuff out of his eyes, "Don't rub it back in like that." Helping him wash his face off, you added, "That stuff I stopped you from putting in your eyes burns worse than this if you would believe it."

"No fricking way I'm letting that happen again," Karofsky said, trying to push back the tears in his voice.

"I consider this karma for all the times you've done this."

"He's in the first stage of loserdom: Denial," Artie stated.

"No!" the jock snapped, pulling away from the shower he occupied, "I am not a loser!"

"Everyone's a loser in their own right," you called over.

"Well, not me! And I don't sing and dance. I walk tall and carry a big stick."

"Oh, wow. My mind is imploding with the amount of dick jokes I can make with that."

"Dude." Finn walked towards the pissed-off boy. "Relax. This is gonna be fine."

"Yeah. Of course, it is." Karofsky gave the boy a harsh shove, making you jump up from where you were helping the boy you had been these past few days. "Because I'm quitting Glee Club."

"No, you're not," Beiste stated, turning the corner into the shower portion of the locker rooms, "Fact is, covered in ice and red dye number seven, you guys look more like a team than you ever have out on that field."

"I don't care. I'm out."

"Then you're off the team."

"No way."

"Yeah."

"If we quit, you barely have enough guys to play next week. It's the championship game. You're not gonna throw it."

"Try me."

"All this because you can't handle your eyes burning and being called a loser when you get sacked out on the field regularly? This is what breaks you?" you scoffed.

Finn's voice was pleading when he spoke, trailing off into one of his leadership speeches, "Don't do this. If we stand together and we do the halftime show, we can win this game and be kings in this place."

"Oh, what a castle to rule in," you muttered to yourself, glancing around the locker room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Before all the new Glee Football players trailed from the room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Then all the non-glee football players trailed from the room.

Cutting the tension in the room, you sniffed, then asked the coach, "You mind if I hold onto this jacket for a while? My shirt is soaked, and I don't have any spare clothes here. I gave them to Artie when he was drenched."

---

This is exactly what you needed after the long day you had.

Warm coffee to combat the cold ebbing from the streets outside. Along with the plates of sweet treats and your friends.

No matter how much they jokingly bragged about their number for the upcoming competition.

"Now, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but... you guys better be pulling out all the stops for regionals because the number we just rehearsed is so off the hook, it's dangerous."

"Seriously." Kurt nodded from his seat beside the boy he wished to call his boyfriend, as you took yours at the head of the table, sitting between Blane and your sister. "People should wear protective headgear when they're watching it."

You sighed as Rachel and Mercedes shared a look.

"Guys, we're kidding," Kurt supplied, not meaning for any harm to be taken by it.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to laugh right now with everything going on at McKinley," your sister replied.

"I mean, look at us," Mercedes voiced, "The stars of two rival show choirs sitting down to coffee?"

"I think that's very healthy of us," you spoke around the lip of your coffee cup.

Gaining a nod from Blane. "I agree."

"But that still doesn't negate the fact that our school is so messed up we can't even keep our own football team together," she pointed out.

"It's so sad, you guys. Coach Beiste and Mr Schue were so close at getting everyone at the school together."

"And the boys are super depressed about it."

"Why hasn't Finn told me anything about this?" Kurt asked in indignation, "I mean, we live together. And I bring him a glass of warm milk every night, just in hopes that we'll have a little lady chat."

"Warm milk?" Blane asked, "Really?"

"It's delicious."

Rachel shook her head. "Finn's too proud to complain. He feels like he has to be strong for everyone, but I know it's just killing him inside. I hope he realises that, you know, if he and I were still together, I could make him feel a lot better, you know."

"Hopefully not by spreading your legs," you muttered.

Rolled her eyes, she replied, "I'm not Quinn."

At the same time you gave her shin a swift kick under the table, Mercedes shoved her shoulder into hers lightly.

"Let it go, Rachel," Kurt replied to her words about Finn.

"I- I just wish that there was a way that we could help. That's all."

"Yeah. And the worst part is how bummed the guys are," Mercedes added, "I mean, they already suffer enough abuse just being in glee. I really think that winning the game could have eased some of the pressure, at least for a little while."

"Wait. So, the whole team quit?" Blane asked, munching on his biscuit.

"Everybody not in glee. I mean, you can't play football with five guys, and one of them is in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, and Coach Beiste put up a sign-up sheet for people to join. I think they'll take anyone at this point."

"Well, the good news is you only need four more guys," Blane pointed out, trying to bring some hope back into the three McKinley students, "High school regulations actually let you play a couple guys short if you want to."

Sharing plotting looks with the girls, the boy had given you an eureka moment.

"But if they figure out a way to make it work, we will definitely be there to cheer 'em on."

"Oh, totally," Kurt was quick to agree, "Blane and I love football. Well, Blane loves football. I love scarves."

"Are you two thinking what I am?" you asked the girls before turning back to the head Warbler, placing a hand upon his shoulder, "Blane, you do not know how glad I am that you love football... even if you do dunk your biscotti into coffee."

---

"Why can't we just let them back on the team just for this game?" Sam asked during the next glee club session after the news everyone knew was coming had finally been broken.

"No." Beiste shook her head. "We carry this thing through. Even if it means having to forfeit the game."

"I can't believe this is it," Finn said glumly.

"Maybe it isn't." Sharing a look and an assured nod with your sister, you both stood up and walked to the centre of the room, where the adults were. "We wanna join the team."

"Or, in better words, we volunteer as tributes," your reference was met with silence, "Seriously? Have none of you read 'The Hunger Games'?"

Artie waved his hand. "I have. I got it."

"Thank you!"

"Wait," the boy then paused, processing what this all insinuated to, ""We" who?"

"All of us glee girls, and Y/N." Mercedes popped up now, followed by Tina. "We wanna join the football team, and we want to play in the championship."

"Come one, guy. Stop screwing around," Mike said moodily, "It's not cool."

"What's not cool is you guys not respecting women enough to realise we're perfectly capable of playing football," Lauren countered, walking to the front of the room herself, "And don't forget who the state champ in Greco-Roman Wrestling is. I've got offers from three different professional wrestling organisations for after I graduate, so..."

"High-five," your sister said, the two sharing one as you celebrated Lauren's achievements yourself.

"Oh, hell yeah!"

"Rachel, have you actually seen a tackle football game?" Mr Schue asked, leaning against the piano, "When they tackle you, it hurts."

"No, I thought it would tickle," you replied sarcastically, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Yeah, Puckerman voiced, agreeing with his teacher, "And not in the good Mellencamp way."

"We thought about that, but the truth is, is that you guys don't really need us to play. You just need enough players out there to field a regulation team. So, when they snap the ball-" Rachel mimed. "-We're just gonna lie down on the ground. We're just gonna lie there."

"Well, I'm not," Zizes informed, "I'm gonna bring the pain."

You nodded in agreement, "Yeah, me too."

"I guess they won't get hurt if you stay down," Coach Beiste said, clinging onto this shred of hope that had been given to her.

"Okay, what do your parents have to say about this?"

Pulling out a stack of paper from behind her back, Tina moved to hand them over, "We all have signed permission slips from them. It took some convincing, but they understood what it means to all of us."

"Oh, not for me. My dad's were happy to let me do this. They thought it was a great way for me to get out my anger. Tackling people on the field, rather than in the hallways. Even if it is for one game."

"What do you think, coach?" Mr Schue asked, handing the permission slips over.

The woman sighed. "I think... welcome to the football team."

"Yes!"

You celebrated along with the girls, the boys coming down to join in the festivities.

"I'm gonna kick some ass!" you yelled, pumping a fist, "Whoo!"

"Football team! Football team!" Rachel chanted, clapping her hands. "High-five, teammate!"

Oh, this was gonna be so much fun.

---

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this much anxiety vibrating through your bones. Which, lucky for you, was masked with excitement.

Hats, scarves, and jackets were needed on the cold January evening. And here you were in bulky football gear and pads, the stereotypical black steeks painted under your eyes.

Finn shook your shoulders once the guys joined up with you on the field, noises of excitement coming from everyone.

You had just finished high-fiving Sam when you heard your sister's loud shout came from behind her gold-star-covered helmet.

"Let's kick some ass!"

"Yeah!" you and Puckerman yelled in unison.

"Kick some ass!"

"Kick it!"

"Yeah!" Rachel and yourself stood side-by-side, synching each other up. "I knew it wasn't just me with anger in our family."

Speaking of...

Your eyes glanced over the crowd, finding two familiar faces.

"Hey, dads are here."

"What?" Rachel followed your line of sight, spotting your father's smiling down at you, making her wave excitedly to them with both hands. You, however, used a single arm, waving largely to them.

Even from so far away, you could feel the worry radiating from them. But still, with their bright smiles and waves, you could tell they were looking forward to the game you had felt so passionately about, just to help your friends.

"You sure you're gonna be able to join in?" Finn asked, "I mean, you don't even know how to play football."

"Just tell me what number to go for," you replied confidently.

Before long, you were in a huddle, with Finn giving out plays that you nor most of the girls even knew.

"Punch and Judy on one. Ready, break!"

"Break!" All the guys clapped.

"What?"

"Who's Judy?"

Turning to your sister as you made your way towards the line, you sassed, "You tellin' me that you know a guy called 'Punch'?"

"Where do I go? What do I do?"

Finn pointed her towards the ground, leaving her to copy a position she had once seen on television before turning to tell you where you had to go.

"You have to stand behind Rachel and Tina and stop number 38 when they lay down from going any further."

"Got it."

Copying the position of the boy you were tasked to stop, a smirk tugging at your face when he joined his teammates in chuckling at what your team had to do. Knowing you were gonna take him down, just like you had Karofsky weeks ago.

"Blue 42! Blue 42!" 'What?' "Down! Set! Hut!"

Your sister screamed around her mouth guard as she, Tina, -and Mercedes- all dropped to the ground. Leaving you to slide between the two, halting the football player with a huff.

With the blow of a whistle signalled the end of the play.

"Is it over?" Rachel asked as you helped her and Tina up.

"It was the first play. Obviously, it's not over."

"What happened?" Tina asked next.

Checking the board, you replied, "They got the ball."

By the second quarter, your team hadn't got a single point, and the rivals were up by seventeen. And you were in yet another huddle.

"All right. How's everyone doin'?" Finn asked, checking in.

"Kill me now," Mercedes spoke up exhausted, "I wanna die."

"Well, I'm actually having a lot of fun," you stated, turning to Sam, "Hey, you think Coach Beiste would let me try out next year."

"You don't even know the game."

"No, but tackling people is fun."

"Is anyone else tired of lying down all the time? I want to play," Tina said.

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Just... don't get ahead of yourself, okay?" Finn tried to talk the girl down from her boredom and intrigue, "Ready, break!"

One again bent down behind Tina and Rachel, with your hand pressed into the grass, ready for yet another failed play.

"The Blitz. The Blitz. Watch!" you heard Coach Beiste's voice coming through your helmet, pointing out directions.

"What the hell does that mean?" you asked yourself worriedly, hoping that it wasn't anything directed at you.

"Set! Hut!"

You, as usual, had stopped 38. But Finn had gotten tackled anyway, sending the ball tumbling across the field for anyone to nab.

Luckily, it was one of your team that managed to grab it and begin running it down the field.

Still pushing at the boy, you heard directions being screamed through your helmet.

"25, get to number 4!"

Glancing down at the number printed across your chest, you shoved the boy to the side whilst yelping, "Oh, shit. That's me! That's me!" Bolting towards the boy chasing Tina.

You weren't able to get there in time.

Skidding to a halt, you threw the boy off her back while he manoeuvred himself up.

The whole team gathered around the girl, still flat on her face, along with the medics. Her boyfriend worriedly hovering over her.

"Is she breathing?" Mike asked.

"Is she dead?" you asked before you were able to stop yourself, too busy panicking and racking through your brain, trying to grasp onto any idea you could muster to help the girl. Gaining a swift smack around your helmet-covered head from Sam in reaction to having your foot in your mouth.

Finally, once her mouthguard was pulled away, Tina spoke, "Did we win?" Sending relief flooding through you, your teammates, and the crowd.

"Glad you're alive, Tina," you joked after pulling your helmet off.

"Thanks, so am I."

"We're still in this," Finn tried to keep everyone's hopes up.

"Oh, give it up, Finn," Rachel retaliated, turning to face the boy, "Our only shot at redemption, right now, is to kick butt at the halftime show."

"She's not wrong," you panted, gesturing over to the scoreboard, "I mean, how do we come back from this?"

Just then, a look crossed the brown-eyed boy's face, the type where two wires fell together and sparked a thought that could rival an epiphany.

"Sam! Come here." He waved him over. "I need to play quarterback for the rest of the half."

"Haven't you already?" you asked, confused. Considering he had been the one shouting out the plays all night.

However, the blonde nodded readily. "Okay." Leaving the taller boy to continue giving directions.

"Puck, when the half ends, you gotta go convince Karofsky and the rest of the guys to do the halftime show with us."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Finn rolled his eyes at the question. "Figure it out. You're my wingman, right?"

"I got tone, Mav," Puck assured, pumping the boy's awaiting fist as you threw out your arms in indignation, looking at Finn shocked.

"And what am I, your dancing chimpanzee?"

"W-Where are you going?" Rachel asked, sensing the boy was about to run off himself.

"You can't have a halftime show without cheerleaders."

"Oh, nuh-huh," you voiced, stopping him before he could make any real distance from your little group, "Quinn's probably still pissed at you. It won't do nothing than make it worse. I'll go."

"You sure?" he asked as you jogged past him, making you turn to face him, walk backwards down the field, and throwing your arms up onto the air, still holding onto your shiny red helmet.

"Well, she likes me right now!"

Then you turned, sprinting away, hoping to make it in time before they left. Even if you had to run in front of the bus to stop them.

Maybe your parents were right. You were reckless at times.

---

Running down the rows of parked buses, you were given some hope of reaching the girls before the Cheerios coach drove off with the cheerleaders inside, thanks to all the other Cheerios mulling around the area of the parking lot.

When the coach came into view, it wasn't hard to find the giant cannon this whole ordeal started with. Along with the three cheerleaders you recognised, even from the back.

"Hey, hey, hey," you called over to the trio, making them turn to find your panting form jogging up to them.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, then looked you up and down, brows furrowing at your outfit, "And what are you wearing?"

You looked down at yourself, spreading your arms out, "Costume party. And to answer your first question, I'm here to stop you from going with Sue to the Regionals competition."

"Y/N..." the girl started, shaking her head softly.

"Come on, Quinn. Please come back to the game. We need you guys there."

"Haven't you been paying attention?" the head cheerleader snapped, "If we're not Cheerios, we're nothing."

"That stigma might have been pushed onto you, and every dumb fuckin' student here might believe that, but you and I both know that that's bullshit. You wanted to be popular, so you joined the Cheerios, but why did you join the Glee Club- Well, why did you stay in the club? Because you loved it, right?"

The three nodded softly.

"We care about you in the club. Sue doesn't! She's fine killing Brittany for a bullshit competition. Be honest with me, guys. if it meant you could still be popular and it wouldn't hurt your reputation, which would you choose?"

With a shrug, Brittany admitted, "Glee club."

"See." You gestured happily to the girl, before your eyes found Quinn's, spotting the sad yet unsure look in her own hazel ones. With a gentle sigh, you stepped toward the girl to speak with her more personally. "I know you. And I know that you don't think you are, but you're strong enough to do this. You're strong enough to do anything, Quinn Fabray."

The blonde smiled up at you, eyes shifting into the ones she used to look at you with during the summer.

"Okay," she breathed.

"Okay?"

A nod, "Yeah."

"Yes!" you yelled in celebration, shooting your arms up into the air, making the girl giggle. "San, what about you?" You then turned to the silent cheerleader.

"Screw her. She put me on the bottom of the pyramid."

"And there's no more harsh vibes between you two?" you asked, waving a finger between her and Quinn.

"No. We duked that out."

"Hot. Wish I could have been there." The blonde smacked your arm in playful punishment. "Ow," you spoke dully, "Okay, we've gotta go, halftimes in a few minutes, and we've gotta get changed ASAP."

"No time for a foursome, ladies," Sue called over from the front of the bus when you tried to leave with the girls, "Bus leaves in five."

"Which, by the way, I'm totally down for," you told the three with raised eyebrows, waving your helmet between the three.

"Of course you are," Santana smirked.

Ticking her head to the side, a smug look upon her own face, Quinn spoke to the coach, "We quit Cheerios." Making you beam proudly.

"You can't quit Cheerios," Sue stated, "Its blood in, blood out. Now get your sweet little cans on that bus."

"But we still quit," Santana pressed, ticking her head sassily.

"You're my stars. If you leave, I have no performance!"

"Sucks for you," Brittany sassed herself as you began walking away once more.

"You signed a consent form!"

"What's that?" You turned, finding the cheerleading coach holding up a sheet of paper. "That the only copy?" you asked, coming closer.

"The only one I need." Swiftly, you tugged the sheet of paper out of her fingertips and shredded it to pieces. "I can tape that back together," she told you smugly.

"That right?" you asked rhetorically, calling her bluff and throwing the shredded paper into your mouth. Taking a smug joy in the way her face fell at your actions. Swallowing the dry, clumpy paper down, you sassed, "Try taping that back together."

Chuckling, you jogged back to the three shocked teenagers, throwing your arms over both Quinn and Brittany's shoulders.

"You know that she couldn't have done anything with that consent form, right?" Quinn smiled up at you.

You stared down at the road below for a few seconds before speaking, "Shit."

---

Puck had managed to get all the football players -but Karofsky- to perform in the halftime show until the boys joined everyone at the end, dancing along with the zombies.

Things were still unsure for the team, which is why you were brought along into the boy's locker room, celebrating with them on the successful performance, before you possibly had to go back out there and tackle more rival players.

"Hey, what are you guys doing in here?" Beiste asked,

"Oh, we were just gonna take out zombie make-up off for the second half," Finn said, "It's kind of itchy."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," you agreed from your seat upon one of the wooden benches, scratching at your neck where the stuff started.

"No, leave it on. Maybe we'll freak out the other guys a little bit and we need all the help we can get right now. Now, get out there."

"All of us?"

At Puck's question, you peered over at the woman curiously, awaiting her decision on letting the guys back on the team.

"Yeah." She nodded. "All of us."

"Oh, thank God!" you celebrated yourself, once the boys finished cheering, flopping down onto the bench fully, head rolling back into the wood, "Now I can lay down."

"I don't think so."

A groaned, questioning grunt left your mouth as you turned to peer at the coach, who only looked at you pointedly.

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded to you happily. "Now, get back out there!"

"I don't wanna! I'm tired!"

"Come on, Y/N." Sam smiled, fingers curling into the shoulder pads sitting on your chest, using that leverage to pull you back up, "You've got more people to tackle."

As you were ascending, against your will, you whined out, "But violence is never the answer."

---

Turns out, having football players who actually participated in the game and knew what they were doing, not including yourself, really made the difference. It also might have had something to do with the make-up.

Finn and everyone around you, were still telling you what number to go for. But other than that, you seemed to be doing pretty well out there. Not to mention you were having a lot of fun out there, more so than the first half. And that could be seen, thanks to your humoured laugh, straightening out your helmet.

"Did you bite him?" you managed to get out through chuckles.

Puck just grinned at you knowingly whilst nodding his head, only making you crack up more.

It was the last stretch of the game when Sam nodded to the huddled team. "It was a good run. We almost had it."

"Well," you began with an exhaled breath, "Considering the fuckery that was the first half, I think this was a big achievement."

Finn, ever the optimist, said, "Hey, this game isn't over."

"There's, like, ten seconds left. It's over." Karofsky shrugged.

Then it dawned on the once quarterback, "Not if the quarterback fumbles the snap."

"How do we make him do that?"

He knocked on your chest. "Just follow my lead."

Meeting the rival team at the line, you started the chant of 'brains', swaying like zombies as you did, creeping them out. Which quickly lead to the entire crowd chanting it into the night sky, like some stereotypical cult meeting.

And it did exactly what Finn planned it would.

The quarterback, too distracted by the crowd, missed catching the ball. Giving your best friend the perfect chance to scoop it up and run it to the end zone, successfully winning the game for your school.

"Oh, I'm gonna pass out as soon as I hit my bed tonight," you groaned, dropping your helmet to the ground and holding your knees as soon as you got to the sideline where the rest of your friends stood waiting.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, unable to wipe the smile from her face. Both at winning the game and your overdramatics of the moment.

"I'm exhausted." You let out another deep guttural groan from your chest, spotting the helmet at your feet. Sliding it across the ground, you lowered yourself down, choosing to use the hard thing as a pillow. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Y/N, you can't-"

"I'm gonna take a nap right here!"

"They always were overdramatic when they're tired."

Your eyes snapped open when you heard that voice. Looking up, you spotted your fathers both looking down at you with proud smiles up on their faces. Scrambling up, you rushed to give them a hug. Full pads and all.

"Dads!"

"We're so proud of you."

"Thanks!" Pulling back, you told them, almost conspiratorially, "I ate paper today."

"Why did you eat paper?" LeRoy asked, both their eyes wide in shock at the information.

"It's a long story, and you had to be there. But all you need to know is that I had to do it, and it wasn't pointless in the slightest."

From over your shoulder, Hiram and LeRoy could see a still zombie Quinn, shaking her head obviously, clearly mouthing the word 'no', letting them know you were lying.

They both hummed at your words as you continued to smile at them happily, content with the decision you made earlier.

They wondered how you weren't a 'leash kid' when they were younger sometimes.

---

Rounding the corner, still turning heads in the halls as the students walked to their next class, thanks to your involvement in the championship game, you came face to face with one Quinn Fabray.

"Hey!" You smiled brightly at the girl, who still looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

"Hi." The blonde watched you for a couple moments before she blinked herself out of her thoughts and gestured to the folded letterman jacket in your hand. "What's with this?"

"Oh, well, I borrowed it when I got slushied the other day, 'cause I didn't have any other clothes. Just tried to give it back."

"She letting you keep it as a souvenir?" she asked, referencing your participation on the field.

"Yeah." You nodded happily. "Also said that I might as well keep it now instead of getting it next year."

Quinn's eyes lit up in surprise. "You're on the team?"

"Apparently so. She said I was good, even though I had no clue what I was doing out there. It's strange, huh? I gain a uniform just as you give one up. How does that feel, by the way?"

She shrugged happily. "Weird. Did turn a couple heads."

"Well, I think it suits you," you spoke earnestly, glancing her up and down, taking in her dress, "Very 'nieve girl going to see church grandma', but still hot at the same time."

Playfully, the blonde shoved your shoulder, trying to push away the heat building upon her cheeks.

"I never got the chance to thank you." She looked down bashfully. "For helping me do the right thing."

"Ah, all you had to do was get out of this." A soft tap on her forehead. "I'm sure if we weren't on such a time crunch, you would have figured it out yourself in no time."

"I... I just have to say that you were amazing this week. On the field and off."

You gave a soft chuckle, "Yeah, it seems I'm just as good at tackling football players on the field as I am during fights."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Your dedication to your friends and how much you cared... it reminded me of why I fell for you."

"Wait..." Your head drew back, breath thinning out of shock of what Quinn had just confessed. "Y- You fell for me."

"Of course, I did." She shrugged as if it were obvious. "How could anyone not?"

"Quinn... I..."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to process the information that was thrust upon you, hardly noticing the blonde moving closer to you. Finally, snapping out of your stupor, by the feeling of her hands on your chest, travelling to wrap around your neck.

"Wait..."

Quinn hummed, nose nudging against yours. In the middle of the school hallways.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you said, with your hand on her hip, "You're- You're with Sam. And you're still not ready to come out, right?"

The girl sighed, nodding her head as she rubbed your cheekbone with her thumb. "You're right." She finished her sentence off by pressing a heavy kiss against your cheek, then left you alone in the hall, looking over her shoulder, shooting you a soft smile, before rounding the corner.

And you could only think one thing.

'Quinn Fabray loves me!'

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Ten - (A Very Glee Christmas) To Keep Santa Alive

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: With Christmas brought a mission, to keep Brittany’s innocent belief alive and well. Which also brought along a face that seemed familiar to you, and your heart making you feel things.

Word Count: 6,662

WARNINGS: Creepy Santa, slight “flashing”, anger, jealousy, talks of sex, flying shoes, and longing.

-----

Festive vibes flowed through the halls of Wiliam McKinley High School.

You, unlike your parents and sister, weren't Jewish. So, you took relish in the season, loving Christmas for all its festivities, whilst also celebrating Hannukah with your family. However, your sister still loved -and practised- the gift-giving that was involved in the holiday.

So, the season just became one blended holiday for your family. Light the Hannukah candles, exchange presents, modestly decorate -unless it was your room- and have a stereotypical Jewish dinner on Christmas Day that consisted of Chinese food.

It may be confusing to some, but it worked pretty well for your family, and that's all that mattered to you.

With a bright smile, you wandered up to where Artie and Brittany were decorating the boy's locker for the season.

And in true Brittany fashion, she said something shocking just before you could voice their greeting.

"Last year, I left my stocking up over Christmas vacation, and an entire family of mice started living in it."

"Man, this school is a dump," you said after blinking a few times at the girl's statement.

Artie hummed, nodding up at you.

"Their Christmas gift to each other was rabies."

"I take it back. This school is a hazard."

Taking that as the perfect chance to change the subject, Artie began, "I told my parents that I only want one thing for Christmas this year, stop friend-requesting me on Facebook."

"Huh?" you voiced, confused by Brittany's question. If it were anyone else, you would have just assumed it was meant playfully, as a means of trying to find out what the boy wanted, to gift it to him later. But you knew better than to think that the cheerleader meant anything other than what she blatantly said.

"I'm sorry?" her boyfriend asked after a pause, still thinking that she would suddenly say "gotcha!" and laugh with him at her childish question. But was only met with a serious stare in return.

"Artie, the roads to the North Pole are getting treacherous," she explained, "You need to write your letter to Santa really fast and get it in the mail today. You too, Y/N. And remember, even the smallest envelope is heavy for an elf."

Sighing at the girl with a smile, you leaned over and pulled her in to give her a kiss on her temple. "I love you, Brittany." Pulling back, you nodded to her. "I'll write my letter as soon as I get home."

"Good. I love you, too." And with a peck on her boyfriend's cheek, she walked away.

"No way," Artie breathed, still in his shocked state at finding out her belief in Old St. Nick.

"I probably should have expected it from Brittany." You shrugged.

---

Finn was useless.

I mean... what else was new? But this was surprising, and yet, entirely believable.

There the boy sat, looking down dumbly at the wrapped gift in his lap as he tried to tie a ribbon around it. And failing each time. Which only made you wonder how in the hell he managed to tie his laces every day.

Then you remembered that you spent almost two hours teaching him when you were thirteen, and everything clicked into place.

So, while everyone sang around you, you had a show watching the boy and stealing pieces of popcorn Santana was stringing together. Gaining a light smack from the girl every time she caught you.

Santana soon abandoned the popcorn decoration momentarily in favour of using the ribbon upon the piano to tie a bow around your head.

It was when you were all gathered around the sparse, haphazardly decorated tree that Mr Schuester walked into the choir room. A much smaller, fuller, and pre-decorated tree in his hands.

"Hey, guys. What's this?"

"Oh, we're trying to get into the Christmas spirit, Mr Schue," Finn said, "Christmas is totally my favourite holiday. And check out this awesome tree. I found it on the side of the road. It must have fell off some guy's car."

"And the ornaments?" the teacher inquired.

"The guy who lives next door finally killed off his elderly mother," Santana stated, almost off-handedly, "And when they carted him off, they left the house, like, wide open, so... I think she was a holiday hoarder."

"Okay, what?" you asked, "So, not only are these possible crime scene ornaments, they could also possibly be haunted? That's just great. Merry Christmas, everybody!"

Deciding to ignore all of.. that. Mr Schuester pressed on, "Uh- A- And the presents?"

Puck spoke up next, "Oh, I lifted them from a display at the mall." Then realising how that sounded, and afraid to get into trouble again, he rushed to explain, "But, don't worry, they're empty."

"Guys, I appreciate the effort, but this isn't what Christmas is supposed to be like."

"For us, it is," Mercedes remarked, peering up at the tree, "This tree is like a mascot for Glee Club. We won Sectionals two years in a row, and according to everyone at this school, we still suck."

Having flashbacks to earlier that day, Mike stated, "I'm pretty sure they just added food colouring from real slush from the parking lot."

"You can eat that, you know?"

You shook your head at Zizes. "No."

"No," Mr Schuester repeated your word, but not for the health hazard, but instead the group's attitudes, "No. I am not gonna let you guys throw yourselves a pity party. Look, I'm the first one to say that things haven't turned out exactly how I would have liked them to this year." You rolled your eyes lightly at the man, at his obvious reference to the fact he wasn't in a relationship with your school's guidance counsellor. How you, a teenager, were handling basically the same situation better than an adult man was beyond you. "But Christmas is all about being grateful for the things that did."

"I thought that was Thanksgiving?"

You pointed a finger at Puck in agreement. Only for you both to go ignored by your teacher. The man started up his now excited words.

"And this year, Glee Club is gonna lend a hand to the McKinney-Vento Homeless Children and Youth Program right here in Lima."

"Awesome," you smiled happily at the aspect of helping in-need kids, with your hands buried deep into your jacket's fluffy pockets.

"How are we gonna do that?" your sister asked.

"The only way we know how. By singing about it," the teacher replied, thinking it was obvious, "We're gonna go classroom to classroom carolling to raise money for McKinney-Vento."

Your smile dropped. "Not awesome."

"Wait. Classrooms in this school with like students in them?" Tina asked the man.

"Well, if there are no students in them, there will be no one to put money in the collection box, while we sing."

"Oh, so you want us to die?" you laughed sarcastically.

"I agree," Quinn spoke, "We're gonna be killed."

And that was the point that Finn decided it was time for one of his pep-talk speeches.

"No, guys, it's Christmas, a time for miracles. We gotta try this."

"Teacher's pet," you coughed into your elbow.

"Finn's right."

"Favouritism," another cough at Mr Schuester's words.

"So! Let's start rehearsing. This year, Glee Club's going full Santa." Then he switched the tiny tree's lights on to emphasise his point.

---

Decked out in matching red sweaters and green scarves, you stood, swaying side to side, with the rest of your club at the front of the class. As the students hurled insults everyone's way.

Everything from, "You suck!" To "You're making me hate Christmas!" Along with criticisms like, "Who goes carolling with a band?" And "I'd seriously rather be learning."

And you thought the students' grinchy attitudes would be the worst of it.

That is until a show was hurled at the group, from the teacher no less, landing with a clatter on the band's small drum.

So, after high-tailing it out of there as the students continued to lash insults at the club, while you were dragged along by Brittany and Santana so that you wouldn't confront the Astronomy teacher, you were once again in the choir room. Popcorn garlands thrown over your shoulders, giving you perfect access to munch on the snack as others decorated the tree. And your sister, of course, ranted.

"I can't believe that that teacher let those students speak to us like that."

"I can't believe she threw her shoe at us."

At Puck's words, you raised your hands in a stressing motion, line of popcorn decoration hanging out of your mouth, as your spoke, "She threw a shoe at us."

"I guess we're done carolling," Tina stated, moving forward to hand the popcorn you weren't devouring onto the tree.

"No, we're not," Finn said, "Guys, we can't let what just happened ruin our Christmas spirit."

"Oh, so you want us to chance getting knocked out by a shoe again?" you sassed.

"Mr Schue got us this beautiful tree to inspire us," the tall boy argued back.

"That was really nice of him," you admitted in a mumble. Then you shuddered. "Man, that felt weird to say."

"We're gonna practice now and gear up for round two tomorrow."

"With shields, hopefully."

"Pretty soon, no one will bully us."

"That right, Britt?"

"Yeah." The ditzy blonde beamed at you. "Santa Claus can do anything, and this year I asked for the Glee Club to stop getting picked on."

Your heart melted at her caring nature for the club and her friends. While the others regarded her as if she had grown a second, festive-themed head.

"She's kidding, right?" Lauren asked, stealing some popcorn of her own from the large bowl upon Mike's lap.

"Guys, this is serious. Listen up," Artie called everyone over softly, as to not notify the cheerleader gazing at the decorations in her hands, "Brittany still believes in Santa Claus."

"Hey, shut up," you jumped in to defend your friend as a few of the club laughed at her childish beliefs, "I think it's sweet."

"You cannot be serious," Mercedes spoke to Artie sceptically.

"Last week, Brittany believed a comb had magic powers," Sam added, "This is kind of a pattern."

"She's gonna find out sooner or later," Quinn said.

"Why?"

Before Quinn could reply to your question, Zizes piped up.

"Okay, somebody needs to break the news to her."

They all turned to Puck.

Surprisingly the delinquent boy was quick to back out of their assuming stares.

"Nu-huh, don't look at me. I mean, I'm cruel and all, but that's just hard-core."

Then all eyes turned to you.

You gave a large sarcastic laugh. "As if. I know I'm blunt and will do the hard things if I have to, but ain't no way in hell am I doing that. And anyway, I think it's sweet. So what she believes in Santa, what harm is it doing?"

"Right?" Artie's tone was thankful for your words, "That's my point. Hear me out. You remember when you were a kid, and how excited you would get when you would think about Santa Claus? How awesome it was? Christmas was the highlight of the year. Why wouldn't you wanna keep someone's world magical for a little while longer?"

"How?" Mike asked.

"I've got it all figured out."

"Oh... why don't I like the sound of that?"

---

This is why you didn't like the sound of Artie's plan.

Ho-Ho-Holy shit.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you mumbled, watching as an excited Brittany bounced on her toes as a portion of the Glee Club waited in line to sit on Santa's lap.

Something in the back of your head pushed the image of you and Quinn bringing a baby Beth to sit on Santa's lap right now, probably along with your friends, if she had chosen to raise the baby with you. Quickly, however, you shook the fleeting thought from your brain. Silently wondering to yourself if that was going to happen for every family moment like this. And how much worse it must be for Quinn.

Luckily, before you could dwell on that, Brittany's voice pulled you from the crevices of your mind.

"Can I be honest?" she asked, leaning closer to the middle-aged woman playing an elf, her voice lowering into a conspiring whisper, "I don't understand the difference between an elf and a slave."

Pushing forward, you leaned around the blonde's shoulder to speak to the elf yourself.

"Yeah, neither do I. One of my dads is black, so I take offence to this. Actually, everyone should." The woman had a blank look as she manoeuvred away. "Hey, lady, don't walk away! We made the underground railroad once. We can do it again! She'll come around," you finished, turning to Brittany.

"Come here," Santana hissed, tugging you away from Brittany. When suddenly, the toy helicopter flying overhead began crash landing and cries sounded from the people gathered.

But now, let's remember that you were awesome.

So, on instinct, you reached your palm out and caught the thing as it fell behind you.

With a bright smile and toy still in hand, you turned to the blonde cheerleader.

"Hey, Quinn. Quinn!"

"What?"

"I finally got my Spider-Man powers!" You pointed at the toy with your free hand, referencing the conversation you had with her the previous year, gaining a playful eye roll from the girl in return.

After handing the chopper off to one of the workers, you called over to Mine, who was already smiling brightly at you, "I'm gonna call them my 'Y/N-Senses'." Then began mimicking Spider-Man's actions to shoot webs, overdramatically, mouth sound effects fully included. Gaining a laugh from Santana, who was quick to pull your moving mars down before you ended up accidentally hitting somebody.

"I'm not sitting on that guy's lap," Quinn told the mastermind of this whole ordeal, Artie, "Santa's labs are always really warm, and it's creepy."

"We all have to sit on Santa's lap," Artie countered.

"Even my gay ass?"

"Yes, Y/N, even your "gay ass"," the boy continued, "If Brittany sees that we all still believe, it'll make her strong enough to withstand all the Santa naysayers in the world."

"Which is everyone over the age of six," Sam pointed out.

"That's not true. I believed in Santa till I was like ten. My dad's thought it was cute, even if they were Jewish."

"You still believed in Santa at that age, but you didn't believe you were related to anyone in your family because you thought you were the only cool one," Quinn chuckled.

You shrugged. "I don't know what to tell ya'."

"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna work. That gut doesn't even look like Santa."

As Tina spoke, your eyes squinted over to the man acting as Santa.

"Santa can be black," you notified. Look still on your face as you cocked your head to the side, still evaluating the man, "He looks a lot like my uncle Terry. Well, my cousin, but that's just what we called him."

"Is it?" Santana asked.

"Nah. He moved up to Maine like three years ago."

"Uh... how can that guy look like your uncle?" Sam asked curiously.

"One of my dad's is black."

"Guys, focus," Artie pulled everyone back on track, "Trust me. All Brittany's gonna see is the suit. She wants to believe in him. Mercedes, get up there."

The girl rolled her eyes at what she was about to do. All the while, Brittany chanted, "Go, Mercedes. Go, Mercedes, go."

Sitting on the random man's lap, she played it up for the blonde girl watching.

"I've been a very good girl, Santa. I want a pony and a doll that laughs and cries, and-"

That was until she wasn't.

"One of us smells like McDonald's."

"Now I want McDonald's."

Next up was Lauren Zizes. Who instantly began twirling strands of the fake beard around her finger.

"I would like Puckerman to love me. He's a fox. I would also like sweet potato fries."

Then it was Santana's turn.

The Latina sat across the man's lap, legs folded over one another as he held onto her.

"I want bling. I can't be more specific than that. Okay, wait. Hold up. Please tell me that is a roll of Certs in your pocket."

Your eyes widened as Santana began removing herself from the man's lap, face contorted into one of disgust.

"Nope!" was all you said before rushing forward, scooping the cheerleader over your shoulder and carrying her away from the "Santa Claus".

The girl squealed, smacking at your back, "Y/N, put me down! Everyone can see up my skirt!"

Peering 'round your eyes widened yet again when you found she was right. Quickly you placed her onto the ground, only for her to push your shoulders lightly.

"Your turn," Santana said, straightening out her uniform and pulling her pony tighter.

"You... want me to show everyone my ass?"

"No." She then pointed to the waiting man. "Lap time."

"Do I have to?" you whined.

Another firm push to your chest. "Go."

So, with a sigh, you made your way over to sit on Santa's lap. All the while, missing Santana, smugly, whispering into Quinn's ear.

"It's really hot when they use their strength in bed." Only pissing the Fabray off further.

Pointing down at the man's crotch, you silently asked him a question, receiving a hasty shake of the head in return. Taking that at face value, you moved to sit on his lap whilst still keeping your feet firmly on the ground.

Quinn was right. His lap really was warm.

"You look a hell of a lot like my uncle Terry," was the first thing you said, "Meh, you're my surrogate uncle Terry now. Hey, when does the Holiday Armadillo get here? Because my family is Jewish, and my sister's a bit of a bitch- She cheated on her boyfriend. So I kinda wanna put in a good word for her-"

"Y/N!" your name was hissed from your group of friends, only to find that Mercedes was the one to scold you.

"What?"

A gesture over to Santa in return.

"Oh right, Christmas stuff. You know what I really want for Christmas? To get off your lap." You moved to stand, raising your arms up, as you walked back to your friends. "Oh, well, would you look at that? I got my Christmas wish." You pulled Quinn past you. "Your turn, blondie."

With a light glare over her shoulder towards you, she was the next "victim" of Santa's warm-ass lap.

"Do you have anything for stretch marks?"

Then Sam.

"Chapstick. Lots of Chapstick."

Mike.

"I want Channing Tatum to stop being in stuff."

Tina.

"When does Asian Santa arrive?"

And then, finally, the girl of the hour.

Brittany S. Pierce.

But before she did, she spoke to the elf one last time.

"Just know you have rights."

"Elf rights!" you exclaimed, fists flying into the air. Only for Mercedes' to tug it down, trying to push away her laughter.

"What's your name?" Santa asked as soon as Brittany parked on his lap.

"Brittany." She smiled. "You've gotten really tan."

"Well, that's because, at the North Pole, there's a hole in the Ozone."

The cheerleader giggled. "You're amazing. I know you're really busy, so I only want one thing for Christmas. Do you see my boyfriend over there?" she asked, pointing over to Artie. Giving the man a helping hand, you pointed down at the boy as he waved, "For Christmas, I want him to be able to walk."

"What?"

"You can do that, can't you, Santa?"

You vigorously shook your head at the man, joined by some members of your wary-looking group.

"Sure."

"What the hell, uncle Ter- Santa?!" You couldn't stop yourself from reacting.

"I'm on it."

"Thank you so much, Santa."

"Now we're screwed," Artie stated as Brittany hugged the acting man.

Throwing your arms into the air, you turned to walk away from your friends, frustration building up inside of you.

"I'm going to go get a pretzel."

"I'll come with you."" Santana jogged up to your side, sending Quinn a cocky wink over her shoulder as she folded her arm into yours. As soon as you were far enough away, she asked, "You wanna have a quickie in a dressing room?"

You groaned lightly.

"You know exactly what I want for Christmas."

---

"Why am I always being dragged into the boy's locker room?" you whined, as, this time, Mike was the perpetrator of your pain.

"We need to convince Beiste to help us, "Artie said, "The more people, the better."

And that's how you were made to sit along the boys, as the football coach stood before you.

"Are you guys punking me? I thought we were cool after you sang me that song... minus Y/N."

"This is serious, coach," Artie pressed.

"Remember when you were a kid, the way you felt when you came downstairs on Christmas morning and seeing that Santa had come?"

"I do love Santa Claus," she admitted with a smile, "One year, I asked him for a full set of free weights. Kept asking my dad, "How did Santa get those seventy-five-pound dumbbells down the chimney?" Should've suspected something when dad was in traction until the end of January."

"Your dad sounds awesome."

"He is." Beiste nodded to you.

"Well, you've got the perfect Santa body type."

You pushed the boy's head as his coach warned him with a pointed finger.

"Watch it, Puckerman."

"Look, we rented the suit. All you need to do is put it on."

"Just tell her that you can't give her the gift of me walking this year," Artie added to Sam's words.

"That seems so harsh and not at all like Santa."

"She asked Santa for the impossible, me walking again. If Christmas morning comes around and I'm not dancing in Glee Club rehearsal with no personal explanation from her idol, she's gonna lose faith in Old St. Nick, and we can't have that."

"Wait... we have rehearsal on Christmas morning?" you asked cluelessly.

However, Sam voiced a solution to the whole Santa problem, as you awaited your answer.

"Tell her the elves are working on it. Elves have awesome cord blood for stem cell research. But these advances are a few years away."

"Yeah." You nodded. "Just tell her this wish had to be pushed back a little while, but she can make a new one in the meantime... as long as it's not impossible."

"Okay," the coach gave in with a soft voice, pleasing Artie. So much so that the relief could be heard in his voice.

"Great. And then we need you to break into her house."

"What?! N-No way!"

"The back door will be open. I talked to her parents. They really want her to believe too."

"I'm pretty sure her dad still does."

Well... that was as all 'round successful trip.

---

The last time you felt this angry was when Kurt was terrified, thanks to Karofsky's harrasment against him. And you ended up beating him into a pulp.

Arms crossed over your chest as you paced back and forth along the destruction zone that once was the floor of the choir room. The rest of your team gathered in one corner when Mr Schue's whistles were cut off as he strode into the room, taking in the mess.

"They took everything," Mercedes stated sadly.

Tina was soon to add, "Including all of Sue's Secret Santa gifts we were gonna give to the homeless kids."

"Who steals from kids?!" you raged, throwing your arms into the air in indignation.

"Only further proof that everyone in this school hates us, no matter what we do."

"It's not the school. It's Sue," he corrected your sister, "She did this."

"It wasn't Sue. It was Santa," Brittany voiced next, confusing your teacher as he didn't know of the team's mission to keep her Santa spirit alive this year, "He said a light was out on the tree. He'd fix everything. We just need to let him do his thing."

"Okay..." Mr Schue replied slowly, after gaining a nod from Artie, "Are you sure Santa was a boy and not a girl, Brittany."

"I swear on my life. Santa's a boy. Everybody knows that."

"It was probably one of the boys on the football team," Rachel whispered over to the man, trying not to crush the blonde's spirit herself.

"I guess it wasn't Sue."

"So our tree is gone. So our presents are missing."

"Real good pep-talk, Finn," you remarked, huffing when dropped down into one of the maroon chairs. The anger you felt ebbing from your body.

"Santa's probably fixing any dents of chips as we speak," Brittany explained.

Ignoring her words -and yours- the boy continued, "All around the world today, way worse things have happened to people than this. Sorry, but I'm not gonna let this get us down. 'Tis the season."

Pointing with the sheet music in hand, Mr Schue spoke, "I agree. Come on, guys. Let's clean this up."

"Fun... I still can't believe we got fuckin' Grinched."

---

You didn't know whose bright idea this was. And quite frankly, you didn't want to know.

The things you did for kids.

You really liked this watch too.

"This was my dad's," Finn uttered, brushing his thumb over the watch in his hand, as Mike held a trilby out towards him.

"He'd want you to do it. For those kids."

"This was my uncle's," Puck stated next, while the Asian boy moved to him next, once Finn had gently placed his father's watch within the hat, "It's the first thing I ever stole, actually."

A jingling noise sounded when the boy shook the hat in front of you, making you toss in the watch your father's had gotten you as a gift when you started your job.

"I'm gonna look terrible."

"Bullshit," you scoffed at Quinn.

"Yeah, shut up," Tina retaliated next, "With your bone structure, you could rock the 'Rosemary's Baby' look and still look good. I'm gonna look like Jackie Chan."

"If Babra can pull off a bob, so can I," Rachel said determinedly.

"Enough yapping," Santana stated, pulling the scissors up to her black ponytail, "Let's do this."

"Woah! Woah! What are you doing?" Mr Schue rushed in with an outstretched palm, stopping the girls from chopping off their locks.

"We're going all 'Gift of the Mahi' to raise money to buy homeless kids those school supplies."

Coming off of Mercedes' explanation, Sam added, "The guys and Y/N are gonna sell their watched, and the girls are gonna sell off their hair."

"You can't do that."

"Oh no, it's cool," Santana protested, waving her hands, "Most of this isn't mine anyway."

"Yeah, and I don't have any." You solidified your point by running your hands through your short hair, messing it up completely.

"No, I mean, that's not the answer," the man was quick to clarify, gesturing his hands around, "There are other ways to make money at Christmas time."

"No, but we tried carolling, and it didn't work," Rachel pointed out.

"Wait, I thought you and Finn were getting us a new tree," Artie said.

"We went, but Finn bailed before we could get one."

"Nice Christmas spirit, Finn."

You sighed softly after Brittany's downtrodden words, leaning closer to Quinn after you tapped her with the back of your hand to get her attention.

"You wanna go actually pick up a Christmas tree?"

"Sure."

"Wait. Guys, no more fighting," the Spanish teacher protested, sighing himself, "Have any of you ever actually read 'Gift of the Magi'?" Silence. "None of you?"

"I've never read The Bible. I'm pretty sure I know what that's about."

"Yeah, you don't have to read 'Gift of the Magi'. Everybody knows what it's about."

"Well, if you actually read it, you'd know what it's about," he countered Quinn's statement.

"Yeah, I know what it's about," Santana voiced, "Life freaking sucks."

"Actually." He pointed to the girl." You're right." He then came up to sit in between Finn and Tina. "The first Christmas you remember having is the greatest day of your life. Your family's all together. There are loads of presents, cookies. The magic is alive and well. But before you know it, you grow up. And work and school and girlfriends take over, and Christmas becomes more of an obligation. A reminder of what's lost instead of what's possible. And all the trees and the presents, and even mistletoe can't change that. And then when you get to my age... you're so desperate to get that magic back, you'd do anything to be able to feel how you did that first Christmas."

"Is there a point on you bumming us out like this?" you asked dryly.

"Yes, actually."

"So, what should we do?" Finn questioned.

"Put your scissors down. Put your watches back on. We're gonna go out and find some people who really need some Christmas spirit. And we are gonna sing for them."

"Can't we just sell out blood? Or, like I have suggested in the past, I think I can pull a Breaking Bad."

"No, Y/N," the collective voice of the Glee Club and its teacher sounded throughout the choir room.

'Damn'

---

The sun set early with the Ohio winter. Only an hour or two after school had ended, the sky was a dark blue, deepening into a midnight black as the minutes ticked on.

Dawdling down the same dirt paths of the tree farm Fin had taken Rachel to the day prior, shoulders brushing with one Quinn Fabray, trying to find the perfect tree for your club.

"Which tree do you like?"

"I don't know." You shrugged. "They all look the same to me."

Your eyes followed as Quinn reached out to touch one of the nearby trees.

"You wanna get that one?"

She hummed for a few moments, evaluating the tree. "It's not tall enough. Santana could reach the top if she tried."

"Yeah, she really gives my sister a lot of shit for being short, for a short-ass herself."

Quinn giggled before taking a hold of your arm, guiding you along. "Let's get some coco, then keep looking."

"As long as I can get whisky in mine."

A swift, back-handed smack to your bicep, with a playful roll of eyes from the blonde, was the only reply you got for your joke.

"How are you not cold in that?" you asked, to-go cups of hot chocolate warming your hands as you carried on looking through the many Christmas trees the farm had to offer, eyes wondering along the blondes outfit.

"It's warmer than it looks." She shrugged.

A smirk slowly pulled at your lips, quickly hiding it by taking a sip of your drink.

"What?" she drawled suspiciously.

"Nothing." You shook your head, smile still firmly on your face. "Those candy stripe socks are really hot, though, so it makes sense that you're not cold."

The cheerleader scoffed, bumping her shoulder against yours, causing your laughter to break out through your chest.

The smile could be heard through Quinn's voice as she spoke, "You're a jerk."

"But you love me."

She groaned lightly, turning her face away, telling you all you needed to know about how right you were.

---

"Hey. Uh, so we're your students," Finn began at the front of the packed teacher's lounge as the rest of the club gathered behind him, "All year long, you suffer through dealing with is... I imagine having some of us in your classes would slowly chip away at your hopes and dreams until the world felt like a never-ending nightmare of pain."

Your brows furrowed, and eyes blew wide at the boy's words.

Leaning forward, you whispered into Quinn's ear, "He's really not good at this, is he?" Gaining a shake of the head from the blonde in reply.

"Get to the point, Finn."

"Get your foot out of your mouth," you hissed over to him as Mr Shuester leaned forward himself to advise the boy.

"Right. Right, sorry. Uh, anyway, we're here today to help raising money for children that have a lot less than we do. And I know some of us have had a hard Christmas. But what we've come to learn is that no matter how tough things get, there isn't anything that more Santa or a couple more jingle bells can't cure."

With a quick bow of the head, the boy stumbled his way between Tina and Rachel to stand beside you. The queue from your teacher to begin the performance came soon after. Lucky for you and your team, your astronomy teacher, or as you have now dubbed her as "the shoe bitch", was nowhere in sight.

Leading to a very calm and successful carolling session.

And before you knew it, you were making your way back to the choir room two-hundred and ten dollars richer for those kids.

"-So, if you want, you can come over to my house," you overheard Rachel's offer to your teacher, inviting him to your holiday celebrations, "We're gonna eat Chinese and watch 'The Main Event'."

Moving 'round to your teacher's other side, you added, "And then like always, per my choice, we're gonna watch 'Chucky' after."

"Uh, thanks, guys. I think I'm gonna pass," he declined, "Nothing wrong with being alone."

It appeared one good thing after another was the pattern today. Because, as soon as you passed the threshold, you found something that stunned you in place.

Artie was walking.

"Artie," Tina was the first to breathe, watching the boy as everyone else was still stunned into silence.

"It's called a ReWalk," the boy explained with a smile, his arms shaking in his crutches, "Some guy in Israel invented it. I can't use it all the time, but... check me out."

He then reached over, pressing a button upon the pad strapped to his arm, causing the mechanical legs strapped to his own to begin slowly guiding him across the floor.

Finally snapping out of your shocked stupor, you excitedly exclaimed, "Dude, you have robo-legs! You can be like Robo-Cop, but less shitty." Rounding him to take a look at the invention from the back, you loudly whispered to Quinn, "He has Iron Man legs."

"Where did you get it?" she chose to as the boy, still in shock, herself.

"We went home, and it was sitting under my Christmas tree," Brittany supplied.

"How the hell did you afford that thing?" Sam asked the cheerleader.

"I didn't buy it. I didn't know what it was. I thought it was a Transformer."

"That would be pretty cool, too."

Artie turned to mutter to Santana, "I assumed her dad got it for me, but he has no idea where it came from. He went to take a long poop, and when he came back, it was there."

"So, if no one we know bought it for you, then..."

"Santa brought it," Brittany stated.

"Santa," Mercedes smiled.

"Right..." again, you turned to whisper to Quinn, "Is Santa real?"

"That. Or it was a good samaritan," she muttered back.

"Wo do we know that would do tha-?" Your scoffed words were cut off when you spotted a happy Coach Beiste watching from the open door of your teacher's office, smiling happily with tears glistening in her blue eyes, and then it all clicked together.

"Santa."

You nodded, never once looking from the coach, "Santa."

"It's a real Christmas miracle," Quinn said, walking closer to the boy.

But in well... you fashion, you had to jake around in the happy moment.

"Artie has quite a nice ass," you mumbled, gaining a scolding hiss from Quinn in return.

"Y/N."

"What?! I've never seen it before!"

---

It startled you the number of times you had been in your teacher's apartment.

But at least this time, it wasn't thanks to your sister's jealousy and need to lead the Glee Club. Nor with Quinn, talking to that crazy lady Will once called his wife.

"Quick, everyone, in the bedroom," Sue ordered as the jangling of keys in a lock sounded from the front door.

"That's a lawsuit."

"Come on," your sister pulled you along, holding a plate of cookies in her other hand.

Not ten seconds later and you had your ear pressed up against the wood of the door, trying to listen in on the teacher's conversation with the coach, as the club squeezed into the room behind you.

"What can you hear?" Puckerman asked for the third time.

"Nothing. But I might be able to if you would shut up."

But it was no use.

As just in that moment, a sharp blast of a whistle sounded from the living room, signalling for your re-entrance.

"No one should be alone on Christmas Eve, Mr Schuester," Rachel said, leading the fray into the room, igniting the smile on the Spanish teacher's face.

With you right behind her, holding up the DVD case. "I brought 'The Gremlins'. Rachel thought it would be more festive than 'Chucky'."

"Too much talking, Berry's, not enough trimming," Sue stated, kicking your sibling and yourself into action, "Come on. Let's get some Christmas up in here."

As the two adults leaned against the back of the matching chairs, watching the club decorate the tree as they spoke, you handed the tree topper to Brittany.

"You wanna put the anger on top of the tree?"

Her bright smile and excited nod were all the confirmation you needed. Rounding the girl, sliding your head in between her legs, only to hoist her up onto your shoulders, so she could top the tree off just right.

Leaving with the group a couple hours later, you were stopped by Quinn, who pulled you to the side, revealing a wrapped gift before you could utter a confused question.

"What's this?"

"Merry Christmas."

With a smile, you plucked the girt from her hands, assuming by the excited smile on her face that you could open it.

"How the hell did you get this?" you asked in pure wonder, holding up the spark plug you had been searching for, for months.

She shrugged lightly, trying to hide a bashful smile. "My brother-in-law likes to work on cars, so I asked if he knew where to get it."

"Wow. Thank you," you told her sincerely, "So, does this mean you're coming around to go for a ride on the bike when it's done."

"Absolutely not." She shook her head.

"Ah, I'll get you, eventually."

"No, you won't."

"You'll ride that bike. I guarantee it." You cut your playful banter off by clearing your throat and glancing over your shoulder. "I've got your gift in the car."

Leading the blonde over to your vehicle, you opened the door, huffing slightly, as you leaned into the car, falling into the seats. Digging through the glove compartment, quickly finding the boxed gift you had purchased for the blonde.

You watched with bated breath as Quinn lifted the lid, mouth dropping what she saw. A gold hear-shaped locket upon a delicate chain.

"Y/N-"

"Open it," you pushed.

The blonde gasped when she saw the small picture of Beth you had placed within.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," she breathed, feeling beyond touched by the gift. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Uh... can I give you a lift back home?" you asked, pointing your thumb towards your still-open car.

Quinn sighed softly, shaking her head, "Sam's taking me."

"Right. Probably should have assumed that."

"I'll see you around, Y/N. Thank you again."

"See you," you said softly to yourself, watching the girl walk away.

When was your heart gonna give you a break?

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Nine - (Special Education) Fuckin' Relationship Drama

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: As Sectionals rears its head, diva-dome and relationship drama sprouts within the group. Leading to down moods and you saving the day seconds before the competition.

Word Count: 5,775

WARNINGS: N/A

(A/N): Guess who's back, back again.

-----

You had impeccable aim.

Or at least you thought you did.

The scene of the gathered teenagers as the Spanish teacher walked through the choir room doors with a thick binder in hand was one... of slight chaos.

There you sat, upon a stack of plastic, maroon chairs, facing the three cheerleaders, dressed in their cold weather uniforms, One eye clamped shut, mouth pulled into a focused sneer, with an elastic band drawn at the pen Quinn used to write in her notebook.

The risk you took was calculated.

But boy, were you bad at math!

You didn't hit Quinn. That was the good news. You fear if you had hit her, she would have ripped your soul from your body, like a very pretty, blonde teenage dementor. Only there would be no "kiss" involved.

The funny news, however?

You had hit Sam.

Not only that.

Thanks to your misguided aim, you had snapped the elastic band, sending it hurtling through the air, directly at his crotch.

As the boy groaned out in sudden pain, hands between his legs, others turned to regard him, thanks to his sudden outcry.

"What's wrong?" you faintly heard Quinn ask, through the loud sound of your booming laughter, confessing that you were the reason, just from that.

Leaning towards the other two cheerleaders, who smiled confusedly at you, you spoke through your joy, "I hit him in the dick!"

Quinn glared over to you at that, rubbing her boyfriend's thigh in hopes of soothing him. All the while, Santana and Brittany tried to hold their own giggles at bay.

Before Mr Schuester could prompt Sam into telling him what was wrong, your sister jumped up, words rushing out of her mouth. As you calmed yourself down, wiping the tears from under your eyes.

"Mr Schuester, I have an announcement. I have selected the perfect moving ballad for Finn and I to sing to launch our performance at Sectionals."

"Please stop talking," you whispered to yourself. Now. You loved your sister, you always would, but when she acted so entitled, you couldn't help but wish to have ducktape suddenly cover her mouth.

"Me first." The teacher turned with a pointed finger. "Two things. First, our competition at Sectionals are your classic stool choirs. Great voices, but they don't move. Now, if we're gonna beat them, we need to do what they can't: Dance."

"Good luck, Finn," you called over to the boy in jest.

"Actually, Y/N, I've decided to feature Brittany and Mike Chang's sweet moved." The teacher got sounds of excitement from the team at that. Well... most of them.

Your sister, however, had something to say about the matter.

"Wait, they're gonna dance in front of me while I sing my solo?"

"Not everything is about your solo, Rach," you told the girl, "There are still other songs."

It was only at Mr Schue's statement did your eyes blow wide.

"You're not getting a solo for this competition, Rachel."

Quickly, you dug through your jacket pocket and pulled your phone out, shooting your fathers a warning text.

'Rachel doesn't get a solo for Sectionals. Prepare for drama, screaming, and complaining. May God help us all'

"Finally," Mercedes spoke eagerly, "So what song do I get to sing?"

"I was thinking the winners of our duet's competition would take the leads," Mr Schue said, rubbing his palms against his thighs.

"Ken and Barbie," Rachel stressed her outcry, gesturing towards the two blonde teens as she ranted at Mr Schue, "Wait, a-a-are you trying to throw this?"

"You used to be just sort of unlikable," Quinn started, twirling a pen between her fingers, "But now I pretty much feel like punching you every. Time. You open your mouth."

With a sigh, you spoke to the girl, "Please don't say that. I'm still bruised up from my last fight, and I really don't want to get suspended again for defending my sister this time. And I know how you fight, you have nails, you scratch, you pull hair, you'd kick my ass. Not to mention, I really don't want to argue with you, 'cause sometimes that's worse."

"Yeah," Santana turned to you, "I thought you were still suspended. Why are you back here before Sectionals?"

You shrugged. "Mr Figgins took me off. Something about a mandatory science project, I don't really know. I don't think he understood what happened. You know how he is. But whatever, I'm here now."

"Okay, guys, listen. Can we get back to the task at hand?" Mr Schue asked, hands risen, drawing the attention back to himself. "I have talked the talk about everyone in here feeling special for over a year now... but frankly, I haven't walked the walk. I mean, we have got a lot of talent here, and I'm gonna highlight it."

"Do something," you heard your sister hiss over to her boyfriend.

"Look, I'm all for pumping up the team, making everyone feel special, but that's for practice."

"When has that ever been practised?" you asked the boy sceptically, "At least as much as it should."

"Plenty of times," he answered your question, continuing with, "Look, you don't take the star quarterback out before the big game."

You tolled your eyes at his words as Rachel nodded, assuredly, with his words. Even the football term.

"Easy to say when you're the star quarterback," Tina pointed out.

"This isn't just about me. This is about the team."

"Lies," you coughed into your fist, seeing right through his words.

"You are such a hypocrite." Santana glared.

Rachel scoffed, "Oh like you even know what that means."

"Chill," you spoke down to her.

At your sudden, quick defence of Santana, Quinn's back grew taught. A sickly feeling swelled in her chest as her hard eyes glanced between yourself and the Latina.

"It means that your boyfriend is full of crap, Hobbit."

"You know what?" Rachel jumped up from her seat, rounding on the girl."

"Oh, God," you groaned at the drama of it all.

"Ever since the wedding, you've been up my butt, and I'm sick of it."

"Come on, Rachel. She's not worth it."

"Oh, really?" Santana remarked down to Finn, "'Cause that's not what you thought last year in that motel room. That's right, Yentl. Your sweetheart? He's been lying to you. Because he and I totally got on last year."

With furrowed brows, you leaned across your sister's seat, so only the boy would hear your whispered question, "Did you not tell her?" Finn looked over his shoulder guiltily at you. "Oh, dude."

"Okay, enough already!" the teacher snapped, moving from where he was flipping through his notes at the piano, as shocked faces surrounded the room at the drama had just conspired, "No more conversations about this, or-or-or anything. This is our plan for sectionals, and that is that. Mike, Brittany. Come on up, let's start choreographing."

This was not gonna end well.

---

"Did your dad's really almost want to kill each other because one of them put up wallpaper without asking?"

"Oh, yeah." You nodded to the boy sitting next to you. "Thought it was gonna turn into War of the Roses in that place. They're fine now, though, so that's cool."

From the back of the class, Santana spoke, just as Mr Schuester strode into the room with a large stack of papers in his hands, "Where's Puck? I haven't seen him since yesterday, and I need him to get me a churro."

It was a burning feeling on the back of your neck that got you to turn around to face the Latina that was previously staring at the back of your head, now looking down at you pointedly.

You scoffed while shaking your head, "Absolutely not. Just because Puck's not here doesn't mean I'll be his substitute and run after you. If anything, you get me a churro for the audacity."

"My guess is he'd rather quit Glee Club than lose sectionals. And I can't blame him," Mercedes told Santana, "Our set's gonna be real light on the Mercedes."

You were inclined to agree with the girl, knowing that if she were one of the main performers, there was no way that the team wouldn't be a shoo-in.

But then Tina just had to voice her opinion and irritate you.

"I'm telling you, if the Warblers win Sectionals, it's only because we gave them Kurt. We should not clap."

"You have got to be kidding me, right?" your question was rhetorical as you turned to face the goth girl, "Karofsky threatened to kill him, and you're pissed that he left because of that? What? You'd rather Kurt not feel or be safe? Check your privilege at the door, Tina. And the same goes for anyone who agrees." Turning to face the front of the class with a huff and your arms tightly folded across your chest, finishing with a, "Some friends you guys are, you should be really proud."

"If we lose, we should throw possums."

"Now that sounds like fun." You gestured a finger towards the ditzy blonde sitting beside Santana. "And not just directed at Kurt."

You sighed deeply the next second at what -or rather, who- had just entered the choir room. Arms folded over their black and white bunny printed sweater, a perfectly cut strip of duck tape plastered across her lips, was your sister. Throwing a diva-filled tantrum in her dramatic ways.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you breathed to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" the teacher asked after rolling his eyes, following her movements to the back of the class to be seated alone, over his shoulders.

With a sigh of her own, she easily removed the strip of duck tape that had obviously been tampered with, so it didn't hurt her when she inevitably voiced her opinion on something.

"I'm not doing anything. You've silenced my talents. I'm merely protesting." Rachel replaced the tape back over her mouth... which didn't last long, as, in the next second, it had been pulled back once more. "My talents are wasted in this club. My star shines too bright, and I think you're threatened by it."

The Spanish teacher finally snapped at your sister's ego-filled antics. Slamming his stack of papers onto the piano top, sending lone sheets flying.

"Take that off! I'm tired of this, Rachel! You have a terrible attitude, you're a lousy sport, and it is not okay anymore!"

"Well, I'm upset!" she yelled in reply to the man now standing before her, raising from her seat so as to not feel like he was towering over her, "I'm furious about this. About a couple of things actually," she spoke pointedly towards her boyfriend, before looking you directly in the eyes where you sat beside him, "And I see whose side you've taken, traitor."

Raising your arms in defence, you told her, "I want no part of this. I don't wanna be involved. I'm just sitting."

"I'm sorry you're disappointed," Mr Schue continued, "But you know, you could also make the choice to be happy. That we're a part of a Glee Club that is bursting at the seams talent. There's an awful lot of "me" talk going around. "What's in it for me?", "What solo am I gonna sing?"."

"Well, you can only assume that those questions are gonna be asked since most of the club has been shunned to the background since the very beginning. And, well, quite frankly, we're sick of it."

"Which is exactly why I'm trying to rectify that mistake." Mr Schue pointed your way. Only leading you to tick an eyebrow up at the man, scepticism clear on your face as the thought, 'And how long will that last before you get bored of caring for more than two students?'. "Now, when we go to Sectionals, we be good sports. We'll cheer on the hipsters, on Kurt, and the Warblers. And if they win, we will congratulate them, because that's who we are."

Leaning to the side to peer around the teacher, Artie asked, "Dude, where have you been?" bringing everyone's attention to a downcast Puckerman being escorted into the room by the girl you recognised to be Lauren Zizes.

"You look like crap," you told him.

"I found him in a Porta-Potty," the wrestler informed.

Puck began his explanation, which, surprisingly to you, he didn't alter to make himself seem cooler or add anything unbelievable just because he thought it was badass.

"I was trying to find Kurt's replacement for Sectionals. I was trapped in that Porta-Potty for twenty-four hours. Lauren came to my rescue. So I asked her if she wanted to join. But she had some conditions."

"A carton of Cadbury eggs and seven minutes in heaven with him," Zizes listed.

"I have to say, she kind of rocked my world."

Nodding deeply, you uttered, "Cool." Then turned to question your sister, "Isn't she the one you paid to bug us last year?" Rachel didn't reply. Instead, she pointedly turned her face further away from you, arms still crossed over her chest. "Wow. Really? You haven't changed since we were kids."

"Okay, guys, um..." Mr Schuester shrugged his shoulders, raising his arms as he did so. "Looks like we're back in business. Let's all welcome our newest member, Miss Lauren Zizes."

A weak round of applause sounded for the girl. Mainly thanks to the group still being in shock, down in the dumps, or -in your sister's case- mid-tantrum. The girl gave a small curtsy in return.

The teacher shook the traumatized boy's hand, speaking to him in gratitude, before continuing the lesson. The two members moved to sit together.

"Man, you need t shower!" You called as e walked b you, wrinkling your nose up at the stench he wore.

---

Crouching down low, a mischievous smile tugged at your lips as you rounded the corner. Only to find your wheelchair-bound friend intently digging through his locker, far too busy to notice you coming up behind him.

So, with quiet, calculated steps, you inched towards the boy. Reaching out to push at the ends of his glasses, making them wiggle up and down in front of his eyes.

Artie's shoulders jumped to his ears before swiftly peering over his shoulder, only to find your grinning face.

"Why would you do that?!"

An amused shrug. "Thought it was funny."

Before Artie's sassy retort could be delivered to you, it found a new victim in the form of Tina, who had just strode up to the two of you.

"We've got a problem."

"Is it your outfit? Because you look like a cheerleader zombie corpse."

"I think you look awesome!" you gushed, complimenting the girl's steampunk, goth outfit, "And now I need to high-five Mike at getting such a hot girlfriend."

Tina threw you a thankful smile, quickly turning back to her ex-boyfriend.

"I have no choice. Mike Chang likes cheerleaders," she sassed, "You of all people should know."

Before you could tell Tina that she should never change herself for someone, especially the person she's dating, she continued, clarifying her point.

"He's having an affair with Brittany."

"What? You crazy," Artie brushed off with a smile as your brows scrunched at her observation.

"You haven't noticed her ignoring you lately?"

"Not really. It's "Shark Week"."

"They're inseparable," Tina pressed.

"They're doing a number together. They've been rehearsing."

"Really? Just rehearsing?"

Raising your hand, you interrupted the girl before she could continue on her jealous tangent.

"Listen, Tina, not to derail whatever you were about to say entirely, but I've got to let you know just because Brittany has slept with a lot of people before, I being one of them, doesn't mean she's a cheater. Trust me, I know her. She wouldn't do that."

"It's not that Brittany has slept with a lot of people. It's that she's obviously sleeping with Mike," she reiterated, "Exhibit 'A'. I kissed him, and it tasted like Lip Smackers. You know who wears Lip Smackers? Brittany."

"And she doesn't mind sharing. I love wearing her Lip Smackers. It's like candy for your lips."

"I literally have like five sticks of the stuff in my locker just because she thought I might like them." Artie gestured your way, thankful for the defence of your blonde friend.

"Don't be naive, Artie. She's a cheerleader. He's a football player."

"So's... Artie..." You pointed out confused.

"You and I never had a chance with either of them," Tina finished.

Shaking your head at her blatant disregard for your words, you moved on this time to ask.

"If you're so convinced that he's cheating on you, why are you trying so hard to keep him around?"

Tina stumbled over her words, unable to answer your question. Instead, she swallowed and walked away silently, left to contemplate your question as you and the boy by your side watched after her.

"You slept with Brittany?"

You scoffed down at him, "Of course I did. But don't let Tina get to you. The last time we had sex was way before you two started dating. Last week we were partnered up for something before I got suspended, and when I tried to work on it with her, she told me she was dating you and walked away." You pat his shoulder. "You got nothing to worry about, man."

"Thanks, Y/N." He smiled up at you softly, still slightly rattled by Tina's words.

Why was everyone having relationship drama this week?

---

A couple days later, you were filing onto the bus, heading to the Sectionals competition.

Repeatedly telling yourself not to look at the sickeningly sweet couple to your right from your position seated beside Mercedes. As they huddled close to each other, sharing soft words. Waiting for your teachers to get done talking and board the bus themselves.

Your sister, having waited long enough, in her opinion, leaned out of the open door to call for the director.

"Mr Schuester, not that I really care, but if we don't leave now, we're gonna miss the competition."

"Way to keep spirits high, Rachel!" you called over as she pulled back in, heading back to her seat beside Tina.

It seemed time flies quickly when your team's spirits are dampened because soon enough, you were at the venue's bar in search of a sweet treat with your sister. Who, of course, acted the diva, along with the girl who had sent you two on the mission.

"Then go down to 7-Eleven and get some. I need Raisinets!"

"Carb loading?"

Your face visibly morphed into one of pure joy when your attention was brought to the boy by your side.

"Kurty!" you exclaimed, moving to wrap him up in a hug, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Y/N." He smiled, patting your back.

Your sister sighed, choosing to answer Kurt's question when you pulled away, "Puck got Lauren Zizes to take your place. And she won't go on unless she gets her damn candy. She's a warm body."

"I like her." You shrugged.

"Hey, did you, uh, get your solo?" at Rachel's words, you looked over to the boy, intrigued by the topic.

"Sadly, no."

"Ah, buddy, I'm sorry," you replied comfortingly, reaching out a hand to rub at his arm.

"Oh, wow. If you didn't get a solo, then they must be really good. We are doomed." A swift kick to her shin. "Ow. Sorry, that was selfish," she told Kurt, "What I meant to say was, "wor, that really sucks. I'm sure you were really good"."

With a single nod and a proud smile at your sister, you turned back to the boy as he replied self-assuredly.

"I was. I mean, I think I was."

"You're always good, Kurt. Even when you blew that note last year."

"Don't remind him of that," Rachel hissed over to you, hand squeezing your bicep.

"Right, yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine, Y/N. And thank you, anyway. It's just... being in the Warblers made me question everything I thought about myself."

"Even being gay?"

"Well, not that."

"Yeah. What has become of us, Kurt?" Rachel asked with a scoff, leading the two to manoeuvre onto barstools, with you standing between them, holding onto the backs of either stool.

"So... do you miss us?"

"I do." Kurt nodded. "Being a Warbler is great, but I don't think they appreciate my individuality as much as you guys did."

"Who wants to be the same as everyone else?"

"Exactly." He nodded to you in thanks. That was before his mood shifted slightly. "And I can't help but think that I let you guys down."

"It's your life, Kurt." Rachel reached over to hold his hand, shoving his guilt away like the blonde girl from clueless. "You weren't safe at McKinley anymore. We all get it."

Another proud smile took over your face as the boy tried to push his tears back with a smile of his own. Jabbing your thumb in her direction, you said, "That took me two hours of yelling at her to realize that."

Rachel looked awkward at your statement, "I may have been a bit dramatic at the news, at first."

"She compared it to the apocalypse," you told the boy.

"Okay, enough out of you." She pointed a finger in your face.

Kurt chuckled softly, "How come you were never this nice to me when I was your teammate?"

"Because you were my only real competition," Rachel said playfully, leaning over towards the boy, "Don't tell."

"Yeah, that's true."

"I'm right here." You pointed to your chest before you were pulled onto a quick group hug by the two, and they returned to their seats.

"So, how's Finn?" Your face morphed into a cringe at the boy's question. "I feel bad. I haven't spoken to him since the wedding."

"I, uh, haven't really talked to him much either," Rachel replied awkwardly, "I found out that he and Sanatana were romantically involved. And he lied to me about it."

"Wait, you didn't know about that?"

Just as Kurt asked that question, the boy you recognised as Blane came up to fetch him, as the bell dinged overhead, signalling the first show choir was up to perform.

"Kurt, they're calling places. Oh, hi, Y/N."

"Hey, Blane, this is my sister," you introduced the two quickly.

"Hey."

"Good luck out there, guys."

"You too."

"Thanks again, Rachel," Kurt said, bidding you both farewell and leaving your sister to turn to you.

"How many people knew?"

Instantly knowing she was talking about Finn and Santana boning, your mind became blank, "Uh... we... we, uh, we should get out there. Don't wanna miss The Hipsters, do we?"

You knew this wasn't the end of it.

---

You had missed a good portion of The Hipsters' performance, as you had to rush into your outfit with the rest of the club. All the while, Zizes complained about her lack of Raisinets.

But, soon enough, you were waltzing down the aisle as the elderly group performed, being forced into sitting between Puck and Mike, still finishing buttoning up your maroon shirt.

It didn't take long before the elderly club forced tears to well in your eyes as they sang, almost weeping at them along with Puckerman, as your friends looked on in complete bewilderment.

"They remind me of my grandparents, okay?!" you reasoned as you clapped loudly for the club.

"Mine too," Puck said through his tears.

... that was the first time you had ever bonded with Noah Puckerman. And it would probably be the last.

You were still recovering as Kurt and the Warblers performed, but still, that didn't stop you from leaning over to Mike to whisper your stupid joke.

"They're very... uniform."

The boy snorted, placing his head in hand and shaking his head in reaction as you returned to popping along to the song Blane took the lead on.

In a surprising turn of events, your sister was the first of your team to jump up and give the Warblers -Kurt- a standing ovation for their performance. You followed not long after with Mercedes and the rest of your group.

Pulling Mike up to stand with you, with bright smiles on each of your faces, you cheered. Leading the rest of the auditorium to do the same.

"Hell yeah, Kurt!" you shouted for your friend, pumping your fist towards the ground as you did.

A faint giggle behind you forced you to peer over your shoulder at Santana, who was amused by your antics. You quickly threw the girl a smile before catching Quinn's jealous eyes and sending her a soft smile of her own.

If only you could see the jealousy.

---

You were leaned against the window of the green room minutes later, behind the blonde couple. Watching as the dying leaves of yellows, reds, and oranges blew in the night's light breeze.

Until you were pulled out of your mindless daze by Sam's voice as he leaned over to evaluate his girlfriend.

"Are you okay?"

"No." Quinn shook her head, making you round the chair to face her. "I'm totally freaking out. Last time we performed, I went into labour. I think I'm having post-traumatic stress disorder."

"You probably are," you told her, crouching down beside where she was seated at the table, holding the hand Sam wasn't, "Have you considered therapy? I mean, after everything you've been through, I think you may need it. God know I would."

"F.Y.I., I'm totally available to fill in," Mercedes added from where she sat, flipping through the competition brochure.

"Not helping, 'Cadies."

Raising up, you leaned in close to whisper to the girl.

"You're gonna do great. Remember what I told you. You can do anything, including this."

Then with a kiss to her temple, she let out a deep breath, finally appearing to relax.

Sam threw you a grateful look as you walked away, winking to the boy as if to say 'I've-got-your-back', no matter how much it pained you.

With one problem down, another was quick to arise.

"You told Kurt?" Rachel stormed into the room, bearing down on her boyfriend.

"I don't remember. Maybe."

"About Finn and Santana?" Mercedes inquired. "No. I think I told him."

"Who told you?"

"Me," Quinn spoke up next.

"Yeah, I remember those two gossiping about it as I was moving blondie's stuff into her place," you said, gesturing a finger between Quinn and Mercedes as you sat on the chair's arms between Santana and Tina.

"Yeah, and I think Brittany told me," the cheerleader added, "Or maybe it was Puck."

"Yeah, it was me," Puck said.

"Wait. When did you find out about this?" your sister asked, growing further and further pissed at the second.

"Uh... I, uh, I think I was the first to know." You turned to Santana. "Right?"

A nod from the girl is all anyone needed to know.

"How were you the first to know?" Rachel snapped indignantly.

'Shit'

Pointing over to Finn, you started, "Well, numb-nuts over here dropped her off on the wrong street, so I was forced to take her back home in the middle of the night."

'Thank you, lying skills'

"Everybody knew about this but me?" Rachel asked, insulted and betrayed.

"Pretty much," Tina uttered from beside you before Santana decided to jump into the fray.

"Nobody tells you anything because 'A', you're a blabbermouth, and 'B', we all just pretend to like you."

Swiftly, you gave the Latina a light, back-handed slap to her shoulder, for saying that about your sister. As Puckerman voiced his disagreement.

"That's not true. I kinda like her."

"Look," Finn snapped, jumping to his feet, "Rachel, when this all happened, you were dating another guy, so you don't really have a right to be pissed at me about it, okay? And fine, I shouldn't have lied about it but, to be honest, that isn't what you care about. You care about the Santana of it all."

"Oh, who are you right now?" she asked as the Latina gestured to the tall boy, silently pointing out how right he was for the rest of the club. Before dropping her hand to your thigh. Letting it run up and down your black pant-covered leg, massaging the area close to your knee. Cockily smirked over to a jealous Quinn, who sat fuming beside her boyfriend. Hazel eyes glued upon the action before they snapped up to Santana's brown irises when her hand slipped 'round and under your leg.

The blonde glared at the smug look on the other cheerleader's face.

All the while, you were blind to their silent conversation.

"You know what? You guys are gonna have to find somebody else to mindlessly harmonize in the background because I'm not going onstage with him!"

"Make that two subs," Artie voiced, after your sister's rant, "I'm not going out there with Brittany."

"Dude, I thought we went over this," you regarded the boy confused, lifting your arms in question. As Santana's face scrunched up at the boy.

Pointing a hand over to him, she mouthed to you in question, 'What's he on about?'

'I have no idea,' you replied, shaking your head, watching as she placed hers in her hand. Unknown to the way Quinn's jaw ticked at the interaction.

"Me either."

"Tina?" you looked to the girl. "Seriously, with this bullshit?"

"Enough!" Mr Schuester yelled behind you, alerting the team to his presence, "Listen to yourselves. No setlist, no choreography, no chance in hell of winning. But you did win, because you did it together. Look, I don't care if you guys hate each other. All I want is for you guys to go out there and sing together."

"Questionable, but okay," you mumbled to yourself.

"Get up there and for six minutes, remind yourselves that you're not alone."

And as if by poetic timing, the bell dinged, and the lights repeatedly dimmed.

"All right. Show time!"

---

After that hectic time in the green room, you shouldn't have been surprised by its follow-up.

Just before he was about to go on stage, Sam rushed up to you, worry stricken.

"Dude, what's up?"

"Quinn's panicking again, and I can't stop it. I need you to do what you did before and help her."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," you husked to yourself, following the boy passed a visibly making-up Artie and Brittany, and Lauren Zizes doing pushups to the girl pacing by the curtains.

As soon as she spotted you, she rushed into your arms, hugging you tightly. Mumbling into your chest, "I can't do this. I really can't do this."

"You can," you clarified, pulling the blonde from your chest, "Listen to me. You had a fucking kid. You pushed a baby out of your hoo-ha." That got a soft chuckle from her. "You can do this."

Quinn shook her head, "I think I'd much rather give birth again."

"As long as I don't need to see it coming out of you this time."

"Yeah, don't want you passing out on me again."

"You passed out?" Sam asked from behind you, shattering the moment you were having with his girlfriend.

Before you could answer the boy, the announcer came over the PA, for the whole auditorium to hear.

"And now, for our final performance of the program from McKinley High, the New Directions!"

Panic shone in Quinn's eyes once more after that.

You had to hurry. Not only to calm her, but to run back to where you were needed backstage.

"Okay, listen, you're gonna go on in like five seconds." 'Not helping!' "Just remember to breathe. Your voice is perfect. You're gonna kill it out there. You look beautiful. Everything is going to be fine. You, Quinn Fabray. Can. Do. Anything."

Finally, she nodded, ready to go out there.

With Sam shooting you another grateful look, the two exited through the curtains, leaving you to run through the halls as their performance failed, then grew as you got closer to the backstage area.

The things you did for this girl.

---

After the performance and Santana's down-right iconic rendition of Valerie, the three clubs were gathered on stage for the results.

"And now, this year's Head Judge Associate Director of the Ohio Department of Motor Vehicles, Mr Pete Sosnowski."

"Wow, what a celebrity." you sassed in a whisper, with your arms thrown over Santana and Quinn's shoulders as the latter held onto their boyfriend's arm.

"Thank you," he spoke to the audience. Clearing his throat, he continued, "And thank you to all the groups who performed here today. We all had a seriously good time. You know what else is a seriously good time? Taking two minutes to save a life by filling out an organ donor card because it's never too late to donate."

Sucking your lips into an agreeing smile, you nodded your head, turning to spot Mike doing the same thing to you.

"Drumroll, please." Another clear of the man's throat. "In third place... The Hipsters."

Breaths of relief filled your team as one of the little old ladies came out to collect the award.

"Drive safely. And now, the winner of this year's West-Central Sectionals is..." The man smiled, pointing down to the card. "It's a tie. Congratulations! You're all going to the regionals!"

You joined the auditorium and two final teams in clapping, soon finding your opportunity to rush over to the Warblers' side, scooping Kurt and consequently Blane into a bear hug.

"Oof, hi, Y/N."

"Hi, Kurty."

"Congratulations," Blane chuckled against your shoulder.

"You too, buddy."

This was, like, the best outcome you could think of.

If only you could take Kurt all the way to New York with your team.

---

Pushing the Lip Smackers Brittany had gifted you aside, you reached for the large textbook you needed for your next class when something -or rather, someone- ting collided with you.

"Hey, watch it-! Rachel?" Looking down, you spotted your sister, tears pouring down her face, holding onto you tightly. "Het, what happened?"

"F-F-Finn," she wept, "He broke up with me."

Now that shocked you.

"Wha-? Why?"

All that came from her were further muffled cries, so you did the only thing you could at that moment. Hold your heartbroken sister to your chest, chin rested upon her sister, as you muttered comforting words to her.

You were so gonna kick Finn's ass.

That was until you found out the whole story.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Updates!

Part Nine should be posted in a couple hours!

Berry Blues

Season Two Release Dates

First Quarter

Part One - (Audition) You Gotta Love Blackmail

Part Two - (Britney/Brittany) There’s Drugs. And There’s Whatever the Hell That Is

Part Three - (Grilled Cheesus) All Hail The Purple Dwarf!

Part Four - (Duets) So. Many. Catholic. Jokes

Part Five - (Rocky Horror Glee Show) The Tale of The Creepy Teacher

Second Quarter

(Alternative names will be added soon)

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Part Seven - (The Substitute) Random Confessions of Love

Part Eight - (Furt) It’s a Nice Day For a Black and Blue Wedding

7/9/22 – Part Nine - (Special Education) Fuckin’ Relationship Drama

14/9/22 – Part Ten - (A Very Glee Christmas)

21/9/22 – Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle)

Third Quarter

(TBA)

Fourth Quarter

(TBA)

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

So sorry for the late update, but life has gotten so busy lately that I’ve had to push the next parts to an unknown time.

I’m still working on it when I can, but its not as much as I would hope.

I will post an update on the new dates when I’m able.

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Eight - (Furt) It's a Nice Day For a Black and Blue Wedding

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Things come to blows, and a wedding ensues. Why are feelings so much?

Word Count: 11,358

WARNINGS: Kinda graphic descriptions of violence and the aftermath of it, anger, bullying, angst, a small argument.

(A/N): Enjoy!

-----

"So... listen..."

You didn't like where this was going.

"You better not have gotten my sister pregnant," you stated, deathly calm to your friend as you leaned against the lockers, watching as he put his books away.

"No. No," Finn rushed to say, "It's... it's about the Sam and Quinn thing."

"No." You shook your head vehemently.

"We have to talk about it sometime."

"Do we?" You knew you did. "Because I really don't want to do this."

"You never want to do this."

"I wonder why."

Finn cleared his throat just as Kurt walked up, flanked by his dad and Finn's mom.

"Oh," the tall boy said, drawing your attention to them, which you were thankful for, just so that you didn't have to continue having this conversation with him, "What's going on? Is this one of those interventions, 'cause..."

"If it is, it's for the both of us. They bombarded me and forced me to bring them to you."

You gasped. "If it is, can I join? That seems like it would be fun. "Finn. Please stop making out with my sister where I can see"."

"No, it's not an intervention," Carole told you, making you 'aww' in disappointment.

"Okay, come on. Tell them," Burt waved her on excitedly.

"No, no, no. You-"

"We said in the car-"

"Come on. You. Please."

"All right," Burt relented, "So, you know how I drive Carole to work every Tuesday?" The boys nodded as you just stood there confused. "Well, today, I drove here, and we snuck into that classroom where Kurt introduced us, very romantic of me, I might add, and I-"

"He proposed!" Carole exclaimed joyfully, "He proposed!"

"You stole the punch line!" Burt laughed, "Come on!"

You and Kurt had gigantic smiles on your faces.

Meanwhile, Finn looked like the world was crashing down upon him.

"Wow, this just happened?"

"Oh, dad," Kurt gushed while looking at the ring upon his soon-to-be stepmother's finger.

"Congratulations, you guys," you said, patting Burt on his shoulder. Receiving their thanks and a head bow from Burt in return.

"We wanted the two of you to be the first to know. And Y/N," she added.

"Really intruding on a family moment here, aren't I?"

"Don't sweat it, kid," Burt pat at your shoulder, just like you had his, "And yeah, after the kids in that homeroom."

"Bet they got the shock of their lives, huh?"

"You bet. Now, come on. Family hug."

You tried to slide back, to give the four their space. But Burt's hand was still upon your shoulder, and he felt your movements.

"Nuh-huh, you're in this, too." The man pulled you in to join the hug. "You spend enough time 'round our place. You're basically family."

"Does that mean I have three dads and a mom now?" you joked.

"You bet it does!"

Everyone, minus Finn, laughed as they pulled away.

"I'm so excited and- And nervous," Carole said.

"Oh, don't be. Don't be."

"Okay."

"This is just what I needed. I will take care of it from here," Kurt said, "I have a trunk full of wedding magazines hidden under my bed. I'm thinking of an, uh, russet and cognac theme. Those are colours, Finn. Fall wedding colours. Autumnal."

"Sounds nice." You nodded.

"Nothing too extravagant. Okay?" Burt told his son, "We're gonna use whatever savings we have. We are spending it on the honeymoon. That's right, we're going to Waikiki. We're gonna go to the hotel where they put up the guest stars on 'Lost'."

"Bring me back a Hawaiian shirt? I love those things."

He chuckled, "You bet 'cha, kid."

You made a 'yes' movement in celebration.

"Finn, you- You've- You haven't said anything," his mother pointed out. Peering up at his dopey far-off face.

"Yeah, dude, you okay?"

"Uh, uh, I'm- I guess I'm just kinda stunned." He shook his head.

"Hey, don't worry," Burt told him, "I'm already looking for a bigger house. One where everybody's gonna get their own rooms."

"Come on, honey. Be happy for me," Carole almost begged.

"I am, mom," the boy conceded. Pleasing his mom immensely.

"All right. Now listen, Kurt. As the wedding planner, I want you to take care of one thing. I don't care about the food or the booze at this party, but I want one heck of a band. I've been eating right, I've been exercising. And I want to boogie with Carole at this wedding. And I will boogie," he finished, dancing as a white dad does.

"All right. It's already taken care of, dad," Kurt told him excitedly, "I'm gonna hire the New Directions as your band. Right? It won't cost you a cent. They're cheap. They're available. Long story short... you're having a glee wedding."

Punching your arms into the air, you yelled, "I'm coming." In reference to the wedding, then not a second later, "That is a bad thing to yell in a school hallway!"

---

"Hey, Y/N."

Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Sam jogging up to you in the hallway, trying his hardest to avoid the rest of the students as he did. All the while digging into the pocket of his jeans, fishing for something.

"Hey, Sammy." You smiled once he had caught up to you.

"What do you think of this?"

Looking down at the object in his palm, you spotted a dainty gold ring with a diamond in the centre.

"Uh, dude, I like you and all, but I ain't gonna marry ya', you're not my type."

A soft laugh poured from him as he shook his head.

"It's for Quinn."

That got you to stop in your tracks. Shock flooded your chest as you stared down at the ring, then back up to the boy. Repeating the action once more, when your voice finally returned to you.

"What? Don't you think it's her style?"

'No, it's perfect for her'

"You're not gonna ask Quinn to marry you, are you?"

Sam scoffed, shaking his head, amused, once more. "No. This is a promise ring. I'm gonna ask her to be my girlfriend. I think she might say yes. Do you?"

The boy was so excited that you didn't have the heart to tell him "no".

But, you were hurting too much inside to say what you really felt.

'She'll act like she hates the gesture, but secretly she'd love it more than anything. Quinn is truly a hopeless romantic at heart. I'm sure, if there's nothing -superficial or not- stopping her, she'd say "yes" right away'

So, instead, you chose to be the supportive friend.

"I hope it works out for you, man." You nodded. "When you planning on doing it?"

"Right now, actually. I asked her to meet me in the geometry classroom. I just wanted a second opinion beforehand."

"Well, good luck, buddy." You pat him on the shoulder, and with a quick "thank you" your way, he was off.

Leaving you in the middle of a student-filled hallway, feeling like you had lost the girl all over again, in a fight you had no way to be a part of.

That's when all those buried emotions came back. The ones you had spent weeks pushing down and avoiding, ever since the duet competition.

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. Heartbreak.

It was not gonna be a good day.

---

As it turns out. It wasn't a good day.

It hasn't been a good three days.

Your father's have noticed.

Your sister especially has.

Rachel was confused beyond belief at your attitude towards her once more. She thought you were over this. She thought she was forgiven.

But she had no time to dwell on that. She had a 'Glee Girls' meeting to hold. At least those of whom who have boyfriends.

And you had some being dragged around by Santana to do.

"Uh, why didn't you tell me we were having a glee girls meeting?" Santana asked, affronted, towing you behind her into the choir room.

"Stop pulling me around." You tugged your arm free from the cheerleader's grasp. "Why didn't you guys tell me Santana was being a heinous bitch today?"

"Like you can talk, you've been a heinous bitch all week," she bit back, throwing her arms into the air. Causing you to roll your eyes and shake your head at the girl.

"Anyway, this is a meeting for glee girls with boyfriends."

'She said yes to him then'

Quinn noticed your reaction to your sister's words. The way your jaw clenched tighter, the shake of your head once more, the way you couldn't look towards the seated girls. The waves of energy that rolled from you were dark and brooding, not unlike the feeling you get when you know a terrible storm is coming.

She knew why you had reacted so.

You thought she and Sam were officially dating.

Part of her wanted to correct your sister again. A pretty big part of her.

But another part of her wanted people to keep believing she and Sam were together. If only just to further hide the truth within her. Even if that meant hurting you.

She just hoped you didn't end up doing something stupid.

"We're gonna make them stop Karofsky from bullying Kurt," Rachel finished.

Your head raised at that, peering directly at your sister with an unreadable look upon your face. Knuckles straining under your skin as your grip on the strap of your backpack grew tighter and tighter.

Quinn didn't like where this was going.

"What did Karofsky do now?"

All but the head cheerleader ignored your stone-cold words.

"I'm dating Puckerman," Santana said, raising her hands to her chest.

But Quinn also heard that.

"You're getting naked with Puckerman," she clarified.

You were so angry, the rage boiling within your stomach, that you didn't even make a witty comment about that.

"Besides," Tina spoke up, "Puck can't mess with Karofsky. He's on probation. If he gets in a fight with him. He'll be sent back to juvie."

"What did Karofsky do?"

Once again, ignored. Only heightening the fear and worry in Quinn's eyes.

"Yeah. So now, if you'll excuse us," Rachel kicked the Cheerio from the room.

Santana scoffed in return. "You're so on my list, dwarf."

You heaved a slow breath as the girl exited the room, your sister pointedly looking at you. Obviously, wanting you to follow in the Latina's lead.

But you weren't about to go anywhere without any answers.

"I'll ask one more time," you stated, a dangerous blaze beginning to shine behind your eyes, "What did Karofsky do?"

"Uh-"

Tina cut off Quinn's warning with a sad shrug and said, "He just really terrified of him. He's always scared now. Mr Schuester even took him to the principal's office because of it. He was crying."

'Oh, that was not the right thing to do, Tina', Quinn thought.

The four girls watched you silently, expecting a reaction from you. Calling the football player everything under the sun and back. Anything at all.

But you just stood there.

No reaction.

Nothing.

That was until you spun on your heel and began striding towards the door you came through.

Pulling your backpack off and flinging it to slide across the floor and land up against the wall right by the door, seconds before you passed through it.

"Y/N-" Quinn tried to stop you. She really wanted to, but you were not hearing a single thing she said.

Only one thing ran through your mind as the girls scrambled behind you.

'Gotta find Karofsky'

It didn't take you long to find the bully. Surrounded by his like-minded jock friends. Not that you noticed and cared.

Lucky for you, however, the girls never exited the threshold of the choir room, having been called back by Rachel to finish their private meeting. Much to Quinn's objections. But still, the blonde cheerleader was convinced -against her better judgement- to stay. So they didn't have to see this.

Karofsky and yourself went sliding across the floor from where you had tackled him.

Manoeuvring the furious and confused buy onto his back, you gave him a good look at who was the perpetrator of his sudden position before you began to pound your fists into his face.

Chants of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Lined the halls, signalling that soon there would be a teacher whizzing up to stop the commotion.

The boy had managed to push you off of him and give you a few good punches of his own.

"I told you to leave him alone!" you yelled, pushing him into the wall, punching him a few more times.

You were quickly pulled off of the boy by Mr Schuester. Who stopped the boy from advancing on you.

"What is going on here?!"

"They just tackled me out of nowhere!"

"Yeah! And I would do it again!" you admitted in a yell, shocking the teacher by your sudden act of violence, trying to push your way back to the boy, "You deserve everything coming to you, you homophobic piece of sh-!"

"Y/N, principal Sue's office! Now!"

With a firey huff, you turned and walked down the hall, feeling the glares of Karofsky and his jock friends following you.

Maybe that had been a bit rash.

Your dad's were gonna kill you.

Your sister was gonna kill you.

Oh, God.

Quinn was gonna kill you.

'Shit'

---

"What, in your right mind, made you decide to randomly fight him in the middle of a hallway. Is what I don't understand."

You had been silent ever since you first arrived at principal Sue's office, battered and bruised. Blood drying on your face.

A father on either side of you, as Sue sunk down into her seat across the desk. And Mr Schue. Who leant into the bookcase with his arms folded across his chest.

"He's had it coming for a long time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" LeRoy asked.

"It means he's a douche, dad."

"Why did you tackle him?" Sue asked, getting straight to the point, "Why did you hit him?"

"Because he's a homophobe," it burst from you suddenly. A breath and you continued, "He's been harassing Kurt for, God knows how long, and no one has done anything to stop it. I have repeatedly told him to leave Kurt alone, but he never listens... when I walked in on my friends trying to think of a way to stop the bullying from happening, I snapped, okay? I know that it wasn't right to just randomly attack him, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm not sorry for standing up for my friend."

"You did it because he's been bulling your friend. Because he's gay?" Hiram asked, to which you nodded.

"Why didn't you tell a teacher, Y/N?"

"The same reason why you didn't notice," you sassed back to your Spanish teacher, "They all say that they mean well, and that they're here to help. But when you go to them about something like this, what do they do? Nothing. That's what."

"I would have done something," Mr Schue argued softly, pointing at his chest, "I would have spoken to the principle-"

"Just like you did this morning when Kurt was scared out of his whits? What happened then?"

"There was no evidence that anything had happened," the cheerleading coach said, drawing your attention back to her, "And anything that had happened before could be excused on Mr Karofskys part."

"So, what? He's the bully, and I'm the one in the shit? I mean, I know I started the fight, but to not have the reason to be taken into account-" You cut yourself off with a shake of your head, anger beginning to grow inside of you once again, no longer able to look at your blonde principal.

"Principle Sylvester, there has to be something we can do," LeRoy began, a soft, pleading look in his eye. One that made you ashamed to have even put him in that position, "Y/N is a good student, they get good grades, take part in extracurricular activities, they've never been in a fight like this."

Hiram piped up next.

"We just ask you to take everything into account before you make your decision."

"But that's not strictly true." Sue shook her head, pointing a lone finger at LeRoy.

"What?" was asked on behalf of his husband.

"Your child has quite the reputation of fear in this school. I should know, I have one myself."

Mr Schue rolled his eyes at her as your voice burst from you once again.

"Do you know how many homophobes roam these halls? It's not just Karofsky, you know. And this whole town is worse. Ever since I was younger, I made people scared of me, intimidated them so that they wouldn't have the chance to bully me. I have never started a fight before. I stop bullies when I can. Yes, with more intimidation, but to stop them. My reputation is built on nothing but confidence, sticking up for myself and others, and finishing fights when they start against me first. Not starting fights."

Sue Sylvester took your rant in as she leaned back in her red chair, evaluating your now silent form.

"I am going to impose a minimum of two weeks suspension-"

"But, Principal Sylvester, Sectionals is next week."

"Should have thought about that before you started a fight. I would find myself lucky that it wasn't a minimum of two months."

"Mr Schue, can't you do something?" you asked, turning to the teacher.

The man opened his mouth to speak, looking almost like a fish out of water. But was soon cut off before he could utter any words.

"Oh, I'm afraid William has no power over my decision."

"Isn't there any way that they could be allowed to compete in the competition, then continue with her suspension?" your father, Hiram, asked.

Sue shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. If I start giving one student special treatment, then I'd have to do it with all of them."

"Please, Princip-"

Your face contorted in pain as you pushed yourself to sit straight in your seat, hand tensing in its grip upon the armrest. Other arm coming 'round to hold against your ribs, trying to ease the pain there.

"What was that?" the principal asked.

"What was what?"

"Don't play stupid now with us, Y/N," Hiram told you, "Why are you holding your ribs?"

"It's nothing. It's-"

"Did you know about this?" Sue turned to Mr Schue.

"No," the man denied, with a shake of his head, "They were standing fine when I found them."

The cheer coach turned back to you then.

"Lift up your shirt."

"I think that's a legal problem, Miss Sylvester."

"Y/N," LeRoy said sternly, "Show us your ribs."

Realizing you were fighting a losing battle against the four adults, you heaved a sigh and slowly drew your shirt up past your toned stomach, all the way until your ribs were showing.

Red marks and grazes littered your torso. Faint indentations of shoe prints glowing against the deepening bruises. Causing shock waves to flow through the adults in reaction.

Glancing down at your injured stomach for the first time, you saw just how bad it was for yourself.

"Oh, well, would you look at that. I may need to go to the hospital for some X-rays."

"Did he do this to you?" Sue pressed, voice taking on an almost dangerous tint. Only making you scoff in return.

"Karofsky? He could hardly do anything to my face." You grew quiet, deciding it was best to tell the truth. "No. This was thanks to his football buddies, who were there when I fought him. They ambushed me on my way here."

"His friends did this to you?" LeRoy asked sadly. You nodded in confirmation after swallowing harshly against the lump in your throat at seeing your father so upset. Watching as he swiftly turned to face Sue once again, "These are the people this boy hangs around with, he has shown himself to be a bully against the LGBT, and yet our child is the one to be punished?"

Her voice sounded forced the next time she spoke, like she had to force herself to say her next sentence, "There's nothing I can do. My hands are tied, there are regulations for this sort of thing."

"And what regulations does this Karofsky kid have?" Hiram asked, "What regulations do the kids who kicked the hell out of my child have?!"

"Trust me, I will be filing a formal complaint about all of this to the school board as soon as you leave my office. And will be keeping a much closer look at Mr Karofsky and his friends."

"So, what now?" you asked softly, voice low after a few long seconds of silence passed.

"Now... your suspension will begin for the rest of the week." Relief filled you at the principal's words. 'You would be able to compete with your friends', "You are permitted to pick up your work and nothing else. And this will be going on your official file."

"Thank you, Principal Sylvester," Hiram thanked, as your dads stood from their seats, hands hovering dangerously close to your arms as you rose up yourself.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," she bid you all goodbye.

The rest of your day was only mildly enjoyable.

Rachel was waiting outside with your backpack, worry-stricken face turning upset at the sight of your injured features.

"Don't worry," you had told her, as tears welled up in her dark brown eyes, "He got way worse."

Your father's quickly filled her in as you made your way to the exit.

Leaving her to be the one to fill the Glee Club in about your absence.

You didn't know what to say, sat in the back seat of LeRoy's car as he drove. Head bowed and glancing all around, watching the scenery fly by.

'They must be so disappointed in you'

That was the last thing you ever wanted. To disappoint your parents, who you loved so much.

Finally finding your voice and dissipated courage, you spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't," LeRoy told you sternly, making you think he was so utterly angered by you and your actions, "Don't you dare apologise for this."

"What?" you breathed, utterly confused now.

"Do you know how proud of you we are?" Hiram asked from the passenger seat, turning to peer at you in the back.

"You're proud of me for starting a fight against a homophone?"

"No." LeRoy shook his head. "You know how we feel about fighting-"

"At least starting fights."

"Even against homophobes. But we are so proud of you for sticking up for your friend this whole time, even though it came out wrong this time."

"So... does this mean I'm not getting punished?"

"No, you're still getting punished," LeRoy corrected, "You're grounded for as long as you're suspended, and you're not allowed to play your games with your friends during the time you're in detention."

"That seems like a pretty good deal."

"We can make it worse, it that's what you really want," he said playfully.

"No, thank you."

"We're also getting you ice cream from that place you like," Hiram added.

"After we've been to the hospital."

"You know, you're sending really mixed signals with this whole punishment and reward system you've got going on," you remarked playfully.

---

It wasn't long later that the next Glee Club lesson commenced.

All the while, you were being checked over by the numerous doctors at the insistence of your fathers.

Unknown to the -less so- injured boys sat within the choir room.

Your sister could hardly stand looking at the boyfriend she loved as Quinn held an ice pack to Sam's eye, and Tina and Brittany took care of their respective boyfriends.

No one yet realised your absence from the room, some assuming you were just running late, most others too distracted to realise you were missing.

"Dude was a wild animal," Mike said, telling the tale of Karofsky's second fight of the day.

"'Manimal'," Artie said, proud of himself for coming up with that pun.

"How bad does it look?" Sam asked the girl holding the pack to his reddened eye.

"It's pretty hot, actually."

"Now, Karofsky looked rough," Mike told the blonde, drawing her attention from her maybe-boyfriend, to the gossiping boy behind her.

"Yeah, he looked like he got jumped," Artie said, "Wonder who got to him first."

The girls -Well... the girls, minus Santana and Mercedes- shared knowing looks.

Dread filled Quinn as she realised you weren't in the room, and the bell had long since passed.

But before she could voice her worry, hoping that Rachel knew where you were right now, Puckerman spoke up.

"You have no idea how hard it was for me not to jump into that beat down."

"Where were you, Finn?" Santana, cynical as ever, asked.

"I was still out on the field, okay," the boy defended, a bit too strongly for it to seem sincere.

And even though she was pissed at him, Rachel still nodded with a condescending smile for her boyfriend.

"I totally would have given him a beat-down if I'd been there, though."

"The fact is, it shouldn't have gone down without you, Finn," Mercedes spoke up, "You should have been leading the charge."

"Lay off Finn, everyone," Kurt told, shaking his head, "It isn't his problem. It's none of your problems, actually. But, thank you for what you did. Especially Sam."

"Serious. An epitome of a leader," Mike complimented the boy, practically in awe of him, as Sam smiled to himself.

"You might want to thank Y/N, too," your sister spoke over to Kurt.

The boy didn't know what to say to that, never expecting you would go through with it and fight for him.

Quinn took the short silence as her chance to speak.

"So they did fight Karofsky?" she stated more than asked Rachel in a breathless voice.

At her nod in reply, she could think of only one thing: She never should have let you leave the choir room.

"That's what happened to Karofsky's face?" Artie asked, astounded.

"Baller," Puck said, in the same way, speaking the first nice thing about you in, well, ever.

The head cheerleader had no more time to ask the smaller Berry any more questions as Mr Schue entered the room, voice tinged with worry.

"What's going on? What happened to Sam's eye?"

"He stood up to Karofsky," Quinn told him, still holding the icepack to the other blonde's face.

Tina added, "All the guy's did. Not Finn."

"Is everyone okay? Do we need to go talk to Principal Sylvester?"

"No," Sam rushed to deny, "I got in a few good licks too, so we can just call it even. And maybe this will send a warning to Karofsky, telling him to back off Kurt."

Quinn had lost her patience after the Spanish teacher moved over to check on Kurt, growing desperate to know where you were and what had happened to you. Unable to stand the sickly, knowing feeling building up in her stomach with every second that she was left alone with her worry. She'd sooner rather have morning sickness than this.

"Mr Schue, where's Y/N?" she asked, hardly keeping her voice from begging.

"That's... actually something I needed to talk to you guys about." Taking a deep breath, the man continued, "Y/N got into a pretty heavy fight with Karofsky. They started it. So they have been suspended."

"For how long?" Finn asked, seemingly worried about the wrong thing. The upcoming competition, over his friend's wellbeing.

"The rest of the week." That gave the room a breeze of relief. "We're lucky that Sue didn't suspend them past Sectionals."

"Are they okay?" Quinn asked, everyone, holding their breath as they waited for the man to answer.

"They... they're okay. Injured. But okay."

That was another relief off of the clubs' shoulders.

You were okay.

Trying to move on from the hectic day, Mr Schue moved on with the lesson itinerary, "All right, guys. Let's take our places. We got a wedding to prepare for."

And Quinn had a Y/N to prepare to yell at.

---

You had been put on bed rest.

By your fathers' orders.

The doctors advised it, but they enforced it.

You had a bad case of bruised ribs and some superficial injuries. Mainly telling you one thing: You were going to be sore for a while.

And your face wasn't all that much better.

Butterfly stitches placed over the cut above your brow, the eye underneath darkening into a serious black eye. While your other cheek was scraped up, redness hiding the bruise underneath. And to top it all off, a split lower lip stinging with every movement they made.

You thought you would be spending the rest of your day in bed, watching some TV, probably doing some of the work your sister said that she'd bring home for you.

You didn't expect this.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Quinn yelled as soon as she entered your room, glaring down at your laying form as you painfully pushed yourself up into a seated position. Hiding it behind the shock and slight fear on your face at the girl's sudden outburst. "You tackled him?! You seriously tackled a football player?"

"He went down like a piece of paper."

She jabbed a pointed finger your way, face furious, "Don't joke with me right now!"

Your eyes widened at her reaction, watching as she paced the space at the foot of your bed.

Both of you were unaware of the three Berry's huddled up outside your bedroom door, pressed against the wood to listen in.

"Do you not remember what I told you?! When I said you were worth more than this- Than him!" she cried, pointing at the air as if he were standing right there, in your bedroom, "Than to throw your life away-!"

"I haven't thrown my life away. It was one fight!" you cut her off, face scrunched at her words, finding them to be idiotic.

"You're suspended, Y/N!" she decided to shout now, changing the route for her anger, "Do you really think he's worth that?!"

"I'm sick of this, Quinn!" you roared back at her, surprising her this time, "What gives him the right-? What gives him the fucking right to go around treating people this way?!"

You waited, watching, for her to answer, but got nothing in return.

"Don't worry," you said, rationalising why the blonde had been yelling at you so passionately, "I'm gonna alright to be in the competition."

Apparently, that was entirely the wrong thing to say.

"I don't care about a stupid Show Choir Competition! I care about you! I care if you're safe! Do you know how worried I was about you?" You were shocked to see the pain behind the blonde's eyes, watching her fight tooth and nail to keep her tears at bay. Hand's coming down to cradle her flat stomach, "I felt sick with it. Like I was gonna crumble into pieces if I didn't find out what happened to you." She gasped, looking away from you as the tears finally welled up in her eyes. "I can hardly look at you right now."

"Listen, I get that you're probably disappointed in me-"

"I'm not disappointed in you!"

You didn't understand what you were seeing.

Quinn Fabray was standing in front of you, looking about ready to let the tears stream down her cheeks, posture tight, as flames raged behind her wet eyes.

"I can't stand to see you hurt. I don't want you to be hurt." The girl had grown closer to you as she spoke, resting her hands upon your aching ribs, making you flinch instantaneously. "Y/N-? What-?"

Taking initiative, she weaved her fingers into the soft material of your T-shirt, pulling it to bunch up your body, showing her the bruises underneath.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Karofsky's football buddies got the jump on me as I was going to Sue's office." You shrugged your shirt back down. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"That's not nothing. How many were there?"

"Like four, maybe five. I don't really know."

"Did you-?"

"They know. Everyone knows. You're not the only blonde who saw my abs today," you joked, referencing what had happened in the principal's office, slight smile falling when you noticed her sullen face, "Seriously, Quinn, I'm fine. Just sore."

"Why can't you believe that I care about you?" she randomly asked.

"Can you really blame me?" you muttered, almost sneering as you couldn't meet her eyes.

The blonde caught on easily, sighing as the memories flooded her.

"Just because of what happened over the summer doesn't mean I don't care about you, you big dumb idiot." You squinted over at her soft spoken name-calling. Quinn leaning closer to you to hiss to you, as if the room were crowded and didn't want anyone hearing, "It's the opposite. I care about you, so much, that it's insane. But you know the reason behind everything. You know that I can't- I can't-"

"I know." You nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry for bringing it up again."

"It's okay. Just... just focus on getting better. Can't really dance with bad ribs."

The blonde moved to exit the room then, opening the door only to reveal the three eavesdropping Berrys. Looking back at you with a pointed look, as you watched your family the same way, their faces bashful in return.

"Excuse me," she muttered, cutting through the huddled group and making her way to leave your home.

"What the hell, guys?"

"We just..." Rachel began, "Wanted to make sure you were alright."

You eyed her suspiciously, knowing that she was lying and clearly showing that on your face.

Hiram moved to try and excuse their position, but you cut him off before he had the chance.

"Don't even try." With a groaned sigh, you flopped painfully back onto your bed. Turning to face LeRoy, you asked, "Dad. Would you- Would you drive her home? She's too upset to."

"Of course." He nodded. Moving to follow after the girl who had just left, quickly catching her before she could drive herself home.

'What a fucking day'

---

It was the end of the day when you went back to school the next day to pick up your held work. Thinking it best so as not to run into Karofsky and possibly get into another fight with the football player.

Meandering the hallways slowly, trying not to pull against your aching ribs, when you passed by the choir room on your way out, only to spot Kurt standing before a seated Burt and Finn, with his hands upon his hips.

"-And if uncle Andy's fortieth birthday party was any indication, you're gonna need some work."

"What are you talking about? My moves were great. Okay?" Burt shrugged, trying to excuse himself from that night. "It was that damn sangria-"

"Okay." Kurt stepped forward, pulling his father up from his seat, "We dance to the beat, not the words."

"-Affected my coordination."

"Oh, I believe that," you spoke from the doorway in Burt's defence. Shocking the three with both your sudden arrival to them and your battered appearance, "Sangria really messes you up. My dad's not allowed it."

"What happened to you?" Burt asked as the two teens stared at you in shock, mouths agape.

A shrug. "Got into a fight. Face is gonna be a little jacked up for your wedding, though."

"I don't care." The man shook his head, worry pouring from his eyes. "Are you okay? Do I need to come with you to sort this out?"

"No, it's fine. Everything's been settled. I'm suspended. But it's not as bad as it could have been."

Kurt looked at you sadly before clearing his throat, "Y/N, would you mind helping me teach these two boy's how to dance?"

"I'm kinda only allowed to be here to pick up my work," you told them sheepishly, shrugging your shoulder.

"I doubt five minutes would hurt," Burt tried to convince, "Come on, I think we need the most help we can get."

With a sigh and a nod of your head, you gave in, stepping forward to place your papers on the piano. As Kurt got his father started.

"Look at me. I'm dancing, huh?" Burt announced happily, "Look at that."

"You sure are, Burt."

"Yeah. Okay, okay. Y/N, will you come over here and dance with my dad?"

"Sure thing."

You stepped up to the metaphorical plate, taking the man's hand in your own, placing your hand on his shoulder as he called over to Finn.

"Okay, no chickening out. I did it. You gotta do it too."

"We'll have to go a bit slow. My core's a little messed up," you told the man as you began walking him through the moves, just as his son had, "This feels really weird."

"What? Dancing with a man?" Burt chuckled.

"No, it's not that that's the problem. Just, usually, I'm in the leading position."

Your back was turned when Karofsky walked by the room, silently making fun of Finn and Kurt dancing together. Finn dropped his soon to be brother's hand out of embarrassment, more so than anger towards the bully.

You didn't see it.

But Burt sure did.

Pulling away from you randomly, the man asked, "What the hell was that?"

"It's nothing, Dad," his son tried to brush it off.

"What? What happened?" you asked, spinning to see for yourself.

"That's not nothing," he carried on, walking closer to the two boys, still peering through the door the boy had just strutted past, "That guy was making fun of you. What the hell is his name?"

"Tell him, Kurt," Finn uttered softly.

That was all it took for you to figure out what had happened.

"Tell me what?"

"Tell him, or I will."

"Yeah, you'll do this, but you won't defend him," you bit, referencing what your sister had told you about her boyfriend's whole attitude towards the situation and the fact that you weren't blind to how he was acting.

Finn looked at your hardened eyes and clenched jaw, his mouth agape. Unable to find the words to say to you.

But, in the end, he didn't have to.

"His name's Dave Karofsky," Kurt told his father, "He's been harassing me for a few weeks now."

"Harassing you how?"

"Just shoving me, and..." At once, you and Burt looked over your shoulders to see a bruised up Karofsky walking by another set of open doors, "Giving me a hard time."

"There's more," Burt assured, reading his son clearly, "There's something else you're not telling me."

Kurt bit the bullet and finally shared the thing that had been weighing him down for weeks.

"He threatened to kill me."

"What?!"

That was all that was needed for Burt to take off after the boy. With you following him, after your angered yell, leaving the two boys behind.

"Burt! Y/N!"

Finn and Kurt quickly chased after you and the man, passing you by when you had stopped a few feet from Burt pressing Karofsky up against the bulletin board, with his arm against his neck, thanks to the aching in your ribs, your whining of, "Ow, ribs. Ribs. Ribs." Following them.

"What the hell, dude?" the bully asked, fearful of the man.

"You like picking on people?"

"What?"

"Why don't you try me?"

"Burt, stop!" Finn yelled, trying to ease the man away from the bully.

You would have spoken a remark about "don't tell him to stop" or "get him, Burt!" but couldn't as you were panting, trying to breathe against the pain in your ribs.

But it was Kurt's begging that finally drew the man away, allowing the bully to leave down the hall in the opposite direction. "Please, you're sick. Come on."

"What the hell have you been doing while this is all going on, huh?" Burt asked Finn, pointing towards a retreating Karofsky as he looked at you, still bent over, bracing yourself against your knees, "He do that to you? He mess your ribs up?"

"No." You shook your head, raising to your full height. "He's buddies jumped me after I fought him."

"Has he been bullying you too?"

"No, he's too scared to. I tackled him because he terrified Kurt."

The man nodded at you, eyes showing his gratitude for you sticking up for his son, along with the squeeze of your shoulder he gave, as he made his way to the principal's office.

You had meant to leave the school after picking your work up from the choir room.

However, with the anger of Kurt's revelation, your feet lead you astray and right to the gym attached to the boy's locker room. Finding Coach Beiste, sitting there writing out more plays on her notebook.

"Y/N?" the coach called over, "Are you okay? You're not supposed to be here. Is everything okay?"

"I uh... I know I'm only allowed to be on school premises to pick up my work." You gestured the papers in your hand. "But, I uh, I've got a lot of anger in me right now, and I don't want to drive like that. You think I could use the punching bag for a little bit?"

She evaluated you for a few moments. Deciding whether or not to let you do as you asked.

Quickly, you caught the hand wraps the coach had thrown at you.

"Have at it."

You didn't box for long.

Your torso in far too much pain for you to handle by the end, after you had pushed through it for so long, with every jab.

At the sudden halt of hits echoing through the gym, Beiste turned her attention to you. Watching as you panted, hands holding the sides of your ribs. Seeing the conflicting thoughts and feelings flash across your eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded breathlessly, "Ribs are aching, you know?"

Beiste nodded. "What about up here?" She tapped her temple.

"Just Kurt stuff. He's getting bullied pretty bad."

"Anything else?" the coach pressed, "I can tell there's a lot going on in your mind."

"I-" It was gonna burst from you. With Beiste's caring nature and all the feelings swelling inside of you, you knew that you couldn't hold it off anymore. You couldn't push them away. "Do you have a sister?"

Finding the question strange but assuming that it would lead somewhere, she answered, "I do."

"She ever betrayed you? Like..." You tried to find the right words to convey what was happening without spilling the whole truth. You wouldn't do that to her -after everything- you couldn't do that to Quinn. Not only was it not your place, but you understood her reasonings for everything, "Has she ever gone behind your back to stop you from doing something you wanted to do?"

"Something like that," the woman nodded.

You were sick of feeling like this. Sick of pushing it away. You just wanted it all to stop.

"What did you do to get over it? If you did."

"It takes time," Beiste told you honestly, "You've gotta let the anger settle and talk it out. It will eventually get back to how things once were." Then she tried to reason, "How do you know she wasn't doing it to protect you?"

You scoffed harshly at the coach's question. Shaking your head.

"This wasn't to protect me. This was just to keep someone around. I mean, she's supposed to be my sister, and she didn't care how I would feel. She went behind my back and got in the way of me doing something that I wanted to do. It felt like things were finally starting to feel alright again. But not only did she interfere, no, only to make it all worse, but she also went around and convinced other people to do it instead. To tell me that it wasn't gonna happen. Just to make sure she got what she wanted." Thinking back to the duets week, you remembered all that had happened, and where it had led to now. How the blonde had ambushed you in the hall with a ring, going on about asking Quinn to be his girlfriend. "And now, everything's falling apart." A huff left you as you plopped down onto the bench across from her. "Again."

If there was one thing to be said about Coach Beiste. It was that she was a good listener. Taking in your ranted words intently.

"So, you've dealt with this before and have come back from it?"

"Yeah, I have." You nodded. "But this time is different. It's worse. Rachel wasn't involved the last time. There weren't other things-" 'Sam' "-In the way. It was just me and... the situation," you had decided to call it. Other than, 'that time Quinn Fabray broke my heart over the summer because she couldn't come out'. Anyway. That would have been a mouthful, "That I could handle. That I understood. But this." A shake of your head, looking to your feet. "She didn't care that she would disappoint me, as long as she got what she wanted. Why didn't she care about how I would feel?"

"I'm sure she cares," she comforted, "You should really talk to her about it. Sibling relationships are complicated. You could be like a moose and a turkey in the same pen. Mistakes and issues come and go, but you still love each other, just the same."

A confused smile drew across your face as you stared at the woman.

"I don't understand what that meant. But thank you, Coach Beiste. You're pretty cool."

"Anytime, kid. Now get." She gestured to the door. "You're only supposed to be here for your work. You don't wanna be in any more trouble."

---

"You know, most of the guys have pre-tied ties?"

From the open doorway, you heard a chuckled voice, one that you could never forget, bringing a smile to your face.

Peering up into the mirror, you spotted Quinn Fabray. Looking as pretty as ever in her red dress to match the rest of the girls in your club. Hair styled in such a way that it would be up and away from her face while it still could be considered down.

But it wasn't how beautiful she looked that made your breath get caught in your throat.

It's the fact that she was smiling at you.

The way she used to before everything happened.

With pure unadulterated affection.

With an amused but still attractive half-smile, you looked over your shoulder, and if it were even possible, she looked better than her reflection.

"Is that right?"

"Yep." She took that as her permission to enter the threshold of the room you were given to get changed in. "Most of them either can't or never learnt how to tie a tie."

A scoffed laugh jostled your body as you continued to fold your tie into its knot.

"Can't relate. I learned when I was seven."

"Where were you going wearing a tie when you were seven?" the blonde laughed, stepping up beside you as you focused on the mirror, wanting to get your Windsor-knot perfect.

"There's a lot of weddings and bat mitzvahs in my family. My parents were more than happy to let me wear a suit if I wanted."

"So, what you're telling me is that there are pictures of a little Y/N wearing tiny suits?"

Hastily, you rose a finger at the girl, looking at her pointedly.

"Don't you dare ask my dad's to show you those pictures."

"But that sounds so adorable," she cooed, her hands coming to hold your bicep, tugging lightly as if to convince you.

"Yeah, and I know you'd think so. Which is exactly why you're not seeing them."

"You're no fun."

You laughed loudly at her sulking words before turning to the blonde, showing off your tie.

"What do you think?"

Quinn brushed her hands down the lapels of your suit jacket, licking her lips as she evaluated your tie, soon looking up into your eyes, nodding her head.

"You look very handsome."

"Well, thank you." You gave a slight bow. "And you look extremely beautiful."

"Don't try to one up me in compliments," she teased, her focus now upon the small bag at her hip as she routed through it.

"I would never," you joked in a fake voice, sounding as if you were outraged by the accusation, "How dare you insinuate such a thing?"

"But we need to do something about those bruises."

"Okay, now how dare you?" your voice took on a more serious tone, albeit still joking, proceeding to move into overly fake weeps, "Do you no longer find me attractive?"

"Honestly?" the blonde inquired rhetorically, as she gazed up at you, moving her eyes to yours as she dabbed some cream onto your skin, "It's kinda hot."

"Oh, really? Might have to get into fights more often then."

"Don't you dare."

Things were left in comfortable silence for a while as she continued to caress your face with her fingertip, dusting the cream over your bruises.

"What?" she asked, a light blush coating her cheeks when she realized you were staring at her.

"You're just really pretty," you whispered back.

"And you're just being charming."

"No, seriously." You gripped her arm, stopping her movements against your face, making her hazel eyes snap to yours as you pressed, "You're beautiful."

"Do you really think so?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Are you kidding? You're like one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. It's almost crazy how-"

You had failed to notice how close you and Quinn had drawn together. Noses almost brushed together as you talked, sharing every breath. Which was why it was so easy for the girl to press her lips harshly against yours, her hands holding your neck in place as you kissed, ignoring the sharp throbbing pains of your still healing split lip.

Just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The blonde pulled away from you, fingers coming to her lips, looking mortified at what she had just done.

But still, you apologised.

"Quinn, I am so sorry," you rushed to speak, arms jutted out towards her in hopes of calming her down, "I shouldn't have kissed you back, I know how you feel about everything, and then there's also Sam."

At the sound of the other blonde's name, Quinn broke out of her shock, taking deep breaths to calm herself further.

"I can't do this with you, Y/N."

"I know, that's-"

"Sam asked me to be his girlfriend, and I haven't even given him an answer."

"Wait. So you're not-?"

"I just can't be here right now. I'm sorry," was the last thing she said before she rushed from the room, with you calling after her.

'Shit'

---

After the whole performance and you escorting Sanatana down the aisle with Puckerman, you were stood with the rest of your group watching the ceremony.

"Please be seated," the reverend told the attendees, making you wish you could after all that dancing. Your ribs were killing you. How boxers did it, you'll never know, "We usually start with a prayer... but a certain young wedding planner, who shall remain nameless-"

Silently, you reminded yourself to thank Kurt after the ceremony was over.

"-Was afraid that some in attendance might fall asleep."

You and Mike had to stifle your snorts as you watched Santana nudge a drowsing Brittany standing across from you.

"So, instead, I'm going to let Burt and Carole tell you in their own words why they've invited you here today."

Taking that as his queue, Burt turned to the audience to speak first.

"I'm not really known for having a way with words... you know, when you're a kid, adults will tell you a lot of things. But one thing they neglect to mention is how sad life can be... I lost somebody I loved very much. But Kurt- He lost his mom."

"Oh, fuck," you breathed to yourself, trying to push away the burning threat of tears.

"And that killed me. You know we got by, but looking back, I-I want to apologize to you, Kurt. What we were living just... wasn't living. You know that saying that when uh, 'God closes a door, he opens a window'? Well." He chuckled. "Sometimes, out of nowhere, he'll do you one better, and he'll kick a whole wall down. He grabbed me by the shoulders, and he pointed me towards this woman right here."

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you found Quinn already looking at you, a sad tint to her eyes, the boy beside her too focused on the ceremony to notice the quick look between the two of you.

But there was one person who noticed.

"And he said, "there she is. Go get her". You're everything, Carole. Words can't describe you. You're everything. And I will love you 'till the day I die."

Carol gave a heavy sniff at her -very- soon-to-be husband's words.

"I'm lucky," the woman began her own speech, "Most women, when they get married, they get one man. I get two. One of you saved me from my wardrobe... the other one just saved me. Kurt, you are an amazing person. I'm not only getting a son. I'm getting a friend. Finn, I know you were resistant at first, but I am so proud of you. I've watched you grow into a man. But I think I'm most proud that you've become a brother to Kurt." The boy's face fell at that. Finally realizing that he hadn't been doing what he knew he should have. "We are four people... becoming a family," she said. Both parents, taking their child's hand to show their unity.

"Okay," the minister said, taking that as the end of Carole's speech, "Burt, do you take Carole-?"

"You bet I do," he interrupted the man loudly, gaining a chuckle from all watching.

"And do you, Carole, take this man-?"

It seemed both adults had a thing for cutting the reverend off as she said, "Oh, yes, I do. Yes, I do." Making the room erupt in more laughter.

The newlyweds soon kissed, claps and cheers sounding as they did.

And so lead to the reception.

Which you were thankful for, seeing as you finally got to sit down.

Your arm was draped across Santana's chair while you leaned back in your own. Watching as the newlyweds danced their first dance as a married couple, with Mr Schue singing ‘Sway’ for them.

The girl moved closer to whisper to you, "How are your ribs holding up?"

"Still killing me whenever I do too much. Why?"

"So, I guess I'll have to be on top tonight then?"

Looking down at the girl under your arm, you licked your lips when you found her smirking up at you. Quickly, you returned it, turning away from her, telling her all she needed to know.

A vibrating sense to the back of your neck allerted you to the the feeling of somebody watching you.

With a glance over your shoulder, you spotted one Quinn Fabray, staring you down. Eying the arm over the back of Santana’s chair. Hazel eyes connecting with yours, was all the blonde needed to see to know that she had been caught.

Your smile was smug when you turne back around to your table, a self-pleased feeling welling inside of you, at the knowledge that you could still make her jealous.

When Santana shimmied her shoulders, you laughed, leaning in real close to her ear to mutter.

"Your boobs look great in that dress."

"Thank you. They cost a lot."

Your laugh was covered by Mr Schuester speaking into the microphone.

"And now, I'd like to introduce one of the best men. Finn Hudson."

"He can't drink that!" you called over when the waiter offered him a flute of champagne, gaining a whole laugh from the reception hall. Everyone knew that it was only for tradition's sake and that it was non-alcoholic.

"Hi, uh, thank you, Y/N. And thank you, everyone else," he referenced the clapping that had just finished for him, "Best man. Right. Uh..." he tried to remember what he had to say, "Well, I want to propose a toast to my mom... who is so awesome. Uh, I mean, somehow, even without one in the house, you taught me what it means to be a man. In Glee Club, uh, whenever two of us got together... we got a nickname."

"Most of them are weird as hell," you mumbled, making Santana smile beside you.

"Rachel and I are 'Finnchel'."

"Disgusting."

"Rachel and Puck were 'Puckleberry'."

"Even worse."

"And today, a new union was formed. Furt."

"What the hell is a Furt?"

Raising a hand, the brown-eyed girl by your side covered your mouth so that you wouldn't make any more sassy comments for at least a few seconds before she dropped her hand back on her lap. The action reminds you far too much of Quinn, who used to do that same thing to you.

"You and me, man. We're brothers from another mother. And quite frankly, no one else has shown me as much as you about what it means to be a man. And over the past few weeks, uh, some stuff's gone down, and I haven't manned up like I should've. But, from now on, no matter what it costs me, I got your back. Okay? Even if it means getting a slushie in the face every now and then." The crowd chuckled, but only the Glee Club laughed with the knowledge of how true it was. "You put this entire wedding together by yourself, Kurt. So, as a thank you, I had the Glee Club put together a little number in your honour. You're gonna dance with me, dude."

As you rose from your seat, you saw the boy shaking his head, mouthing the word 'no'.

"Hey," you leaned over to speak to him as your club started singing, "If I have to dance with Satan, you can dance with him. Ow. Ow. Ow. I meant 'Santana'. I meant 'Santana'," you tried as the Latina grabbed your arm, squeezing it in punishment. Before she pushed you away to join the boys in the performance.

At this rate, and with what was going to happen later that night, your ribs were never gonna get better.

---

It was after the wedding, and you had one task. Sneak Santana past your sister's room.

Seems easy enough.

But so did a lot of hard things.

"Hey," you said, entering the threshold. Watching your sister, sitting at her vanity, still in her red dress, taking off her earrings.

"Hey." Rachel turned to face you, surprised you were even talking to her if you didn't have to.

This may not have been the right time to follow Coach Beiste's advice, with the situation and all, but you found that you just couldn't avoid it anymore.

"Why did you do it?"

She knew what you were talking about instantly.

Of course, she knew.

"We just wanted Sam-"

"To stay in the club, I know." You nodded, having heard it all before. "But the thing is, I don't think you realise is that I doubt he would have left if he didn't win. Sam just doesn't seem like the person."

"We didn't know that then."

"I did." You shrugged. "I could tell. You really hurt me by going behind my back, Rachel. You literally worked against me just singing a song with someone. I mean, you're my sister. You're not supposed to do this type of stuff."

"You like her, don't you?" Your eyes grew fearful with Rachel's random question, the shorter Berry unnecessarily moving to clarify, "Quinn. You like her."

You looked away, swallowing the lump forming in your throat.

'You couldn't let her find out the truth about Quinn'

"All right. Yes," you admitted, turning back to your sister, "I like her, okay? And before you say anything, I know it's never gonna happen. I know that. It's just... over the summer, something happened between us- I didn't tell her, before you ask," you answered the question that was on the tip of your tongue, as soon as she opened her mouth, "It was just some stupid fight. And well, at the beginning of school, things were slowly getting back to normal. It was like we were becoming friends again. And then when you butt your way in. Whatever you said to her, made things go back to how they were at the end of summer." With a final shrug, you finished, "I just wanted my friend back."

It's not like it was entirely a lie.

But it wasn't entirely the truth, either.

You know what they say, 'if you tell a lie, build it on some truth'.

They also say 'liars never prosper'.

But you had a valid reason for it.

"I'm sorry," Rachel uttered meekly, finally understanding your whole reaction to her betrayal.

With a nod, you turned to leave, knowing that she would fill Finn in, so that was one less thing you had to do.

"Wait-"

"I accept your apology." You paused at her door with a hand on the frame, looking back at her. "But I'm not ready to forgive you yet."

And if you stayed any longer, Santana would not be so forgiving either.

---

"Hey, guys," you said, walking up to the two blondes talking by Sam's locker after Quinn had just given him something, "Please entertain me while Mrs Willis finishes her class, so I can get my work."

"This is what you get for being suspended," the cheerleader sassed.

You hummed at the girl, dismissing her words, as you looked down at the tube she had just given the boy in his hand.

"What's that?" you pointed to it. "It looks like haemorrhoid cream." Quickly turning to Quinn, you asked, "Did you give him haemorrhoid cream?"

"It's not haemorrhoid cream."

"It sure fuckin' looks like haemorrhoid cream."

"It's 'Arnica'," she clarified, as Sam held back his chuckles beside you, "It helps with bruises."

Leaning towards the blonde boy, you whispered, "I think it's haemorrhoid cream. Wait," your voice clear now, "That's the stuff you put on my face. Did you put haemorrhoid cream on my face?!"

"It's not haemorrhoid cream."

"Oh my, God, you put haemorrhoid cream on my face."

Quinn sighed heavily, throwing her head back at your continued assault of annoyance upon her. Sam smiled along with you in amusement.

"Can you leave? We were having a conversation here." She waved a hand towards Sam.

"No. I think I'd rather be a part of it, thanks."

"Y/N."

At her stern tone, your hands rose in defence, beginning to move around the two, sassing the girl with more jokes as you did.

"Okay, I get when I'm not wanted. I'll leave you two be. I just wanted to spend some time with my friends, but I guess I'll go fuck myself then. Sam. Enjoy your handful."

You were halfway down the hall when you turned back to the two, only to see Quinn holding her hand against the door of Sam's locker. A familiar piece of jewlery sitting upon her ring finger. The one Sam had shown you earlier that week. Your heart plummeted at the sight.

'She had accepted his proposal to be his girlfriend'

The only good thing about this week was the wedding.

And oh yeah, settling the dust with your sister.

But mainly the wedding.

About ten minutes later, your eyes were assaulted with the disgusting image of Quinn practically leaning her whole body into Sam. Her back pressed against his chest from their seats at the back of the choir room, looking absolutely lovey-dovey.

"Hey, Mr Schue," you called out to the man, surprising him with your presence in the school.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"Where's my Spanish work?" you smiled, stepping further into the room but still staying close to the door.

The teacher sighed at himself, "Y/N, I'm so sorry I totally forgot."

"I'm on suspension here, man," you replied in jest, as he dug through his bag to find the work he had printed out for you, "If Sue catches me, she'll have my head." You gained a laugh from the group as you popped your head out the door as if looking out for the woman.

"Here you go." You stepped forward, taking the papers Mr Schue held out, stuffing them in your backpack, along with the others you had collected. Just as Kurt walked in behind you.

"Kurt. Good. Oh, I wanna talk to you about this amazing idea I had for a solo for you at Sectionals."

"Can I make an announcement first?"

"Yeah."

"Y/N?" You hummed, looking up when the boy called your name just before you could walk through the door. "Will you stay? You need to hear this too."

"Okay..."

The boy turned to speak to your gathered group.

"First, I wanted to thank everyone for what you did at my dad's wedding, especially Finn. It's nice to know that I have great friends here, as well as a true brother... which is why it's so hard for me to leave."

Your shoulders dropped at Kurt's saddened words, backpack hanging in your hand.

"What do you mean 'leave'?" Quinn asked with urgency, pulling herself from her boyfriend to lean over her knees as the boy delivered the rest of his news.

"I'm transferring. To Dalton Academy. Immediately. My parents are using the money they saved up for their honeymoon to pay for the tuition."

"Kurt, you can't leave," Tina said.

Finn got up, moving closer to the boy. "What the hell, dude? How about you talk with me about this first?"

"I'm sorry, Finn, but there's nothing to talk about." The boy shook his head. "Karofsky's coming back tomorrow, so that means I won't be."

"We can protect you," Sam tried to reason. Followed by Puckerman.

"Seriously. We can like, form a perimeter around you, like the secret service."

"Yeah."

"The only thing that can protect me is what they have at Dalton, a zero-tolerance no bullying policy. It's enforced."

You hadn't said a word the whole time, which was unusual for you, to say the least. Not even at your sister's words did you utter anything.

"Um, does that mean that you're gonna be competing against us at Sectionals?"

Mercedes spoke next with a sad voice as she gained nearer, "Kurt."

"I'm sorry. I... I have to go," the boy replied to her silent question, on the verge of tears. Backing up to exit the room, turning, only to be face to face with you. A silent you. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry that you fought for me for no reason."

He was surprised when you suddenly pulled him into a comforting hug.

"I'm just happy you're gonna be safe."

At your words, tears finally fell from Kurt's eyes, his fingers digging into your back, hugging you closer to his body. Thankful for how good of a friend you were.

When you pulled back, your arm was still draped over his shoulders, looking intently into the boy's eyes. Unable to see the way the head cheerleader looked at you.

You had never been more attractive to her than at this moment.

Not when you were fighting, acting all confident, or when you were bruised up.

When you were caring about your friend.

"Come on," you pulled the boy closer to your side, "I'll walk you out."

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Seven - (The Substitute) Random Confessions of Love

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: With a sick teacher, a cool fun-loving substitute is brought in. Time spent with Kurt, Mercedes, and Blane Anderson, showcases how much the boy is neglecting his friend in favour for his crush. But none of that matters, because you want those guns.

Word Count: 5,558

WARNINGS: N/A (Let me know if there is any)

(A/N): I’m gonna be honest, this is more of a filler part, the juicy stuff comes in the next one.

-----

"He doesn't look so good, does he?" You leaned to your side to whisper to Sam, watching as your teacher pat his forehead with the sleeve of his dark jacket before scribbling on the board.

"Not at all."

"Alright, guys, um... time to start thinking about song selections." He heaved a breath, pausing in his writing. Then he turned to face you with a gobsmacked look on his face.

But, as it seems, only a few of your team noticed.

Santana was definitely not one of them.

"Looking good, Puckerman," she called down to the boy sitting in the chair below her, "Someone's been eatin' their 'Wheaties'."

Puck flexed, kissing at both of his biceps, "These guns are fully loaded."

You groaned, nauseated by the boy and his words, "You sicken me."

"Mr Schue, I, for one, think we should use our set list for sectionals to start exploring the oeuvre of one Bernadette Peters."

"And, I, for one, think we should really not," you countered your sister's words. Then, "Mr Schue, you good?"

"Someday, I'm gonna go to Paris and visit the "Oeuvre"," Brittany said.

"I just want to dance."

"Random. But we know, Mikey," you told your friend.

"Mr Schuester," Mercedes spoke up next, "You look a little green."

"Please, God, don't throw up. I dealt with that enough with Quinn last year."

"Shut up, Berry."

"No way, Fabray."

"Um, I think I'm gonna go see a nurse," the teacher said, sweat dripping from his pores, "But first, I feel like I should get you guys a sitter."

"What? Dude, we're teenagers. Well... maybe Finn and Puck need one."

---

"Well, a full week without Glee Club. What are you gonna do ith your free period?"

You were walking down the school hallways with Quinn by your side, hand hooked into the strap of the backpack flung over your shoulder.

It had spread like wildfire within the club, in the span of time that Mr Schue went to the nurse, that he was out sick for the time being.

It was true that the Glee Club was a grapevine for gossip.

The blonde smiled over at you, beginning her sentence, "Well, I-" That was until your sister strutted up to you both, in that self-assured power stance she does when she's got something planned, and cut the cheerleader off.

"Choir room. Usual times. I'm talking over Glee Club in Mr Schuester's absence."

And then she was gone.

Leaving you and Quinn standing in the middle of the hallway, staring blankly in front of you.

"I take it back."

'This was gonna be a fiasco'

And you were right.

As soon as the tiny brunette entered the room, she strutted up to the whiteboard, only to write one word on it.

'Me'

"Class, in Mr Schuester's absence, I'd like to go around and ask everyone what solos they'd like to hear me perform at Sectionals."

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," you spoke up from your position, sitting beside Mercedes, arms crossed over your chest.

"All right! You know what, let me at her!" Sanatana burst out, jumping up from her seat. Your friends quickly rushed to stop her from attacking your sister. "¡Tú eres loca!"

You cackled in your seat in reaction to the Latina's outburst, even if it was directed towards your sister.

All the while, Kurt made a cross with his fingers behind the Cheerio as if to ward her off. And your sister screamed bloody murder, dropping the marker she held by her face.

"Your sister needs to take a chill pill," Mercedes told you later that day as you waited behind her and Kurt, tray in hand, during lunch.

"I wish those things existed. At least you don't have to live with it. And trust me, when we were kids, it was so much worse."

"I am shaking, and it's either from low blood sugar or rage," Kurt said, "I knew it was only a matter of time before Rachel tried to take over the Glee Club."

"I'm betting she'd been planning it since day one... I actually may have given her the idea, now that I think about it."

"Well, we'll forget all about it tonight at bowling," Mercedes said, trying to soothe the boy, "You coming, Y/N?"

"Sure." You shrugged. "I could always use an excuse to get out of the house and away from Finn and Rachel's make out sessions, other than the excuse of, "you two make me sick"."

"I can't," Kurt said, dismissing the hangout session, "Blane asked me to hang out."

"That the kid from the stairs?"

"Yep," he replied with a dreamy smile on his face.

'And they say lesbians fall in love fast'

"But I've been looking forward to it all week," the girl spoke sadly before the same realisation came to her, "Wait. Are you two going out? Because I think you need to come clean."

Kurt scoffed, a light blush beginning to dust at his cheeks. "What? No."

"But you want to."

"Shut up, Y/N." You chuckled evilly. "I don't want another Jesse-Rachel traitor scenario to overcome. Please, guys. Mum's the word."

"We'll be happy for you," Mercedes pointed out, "I mean, we know how lonely you've been."

"Hey, we just hang out. Nothing about Glee Club even ever comes up."

"Dude, we just said we were fine with it. No need to get on the defensive."

"It's just nice to have someone to talk to." Kurt shrugged.

An insulted look overtook Mercedes' face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, someone like me."

"Y/N's right here."

"It's not the same," you said, "I may be gay, but I'm not 'guy gay'."

"Exactly. But I promise to make it up to you. We'll hang out Friday night."

"Come on," Mercedes ushered.

"What?"

"Tots."

"What?" That piqued your interest, eagerly following after the girl cutting in line.

"'Scuse you. Watch out."

"They're just hungry." Kurt pulled an apologetic face to the fellow students, sliding up beside you.

"So, what are we gonna do about Glee Club while Mr Schue is sick?" Mercedes asked after you both thanked the woman for the food.

"I have an idea."

"Tie Rachel up during every session and just wing it? I'm already one step ahead of you. I've got the rope in my car-"

"No."

"Shame."

"Have you guys met the new Spanish teacher?"

"No." You shook your head with Mercedes. "But no matter what, they'll be better than Mr Schue."

You were soon to find out the truth to that statement and meet the new Spanish substitute during your very next lesson.

But you were too busy gathering your ammunition to really notice.

With Mike by your side at the front of the class, mounds of paper balls between your arms upon the table, as you conspired your attack on the table over and behind. Where Finn and Puck sat together.

"So, on three?"

"Yeah." You nodded excitedly.

"One... two..."

"Three," you said together before you began your surprise attack on the boys. Pelting them with the scrunched up paper balls while the teacher's back was turned.

It wasn't long before your "ammunition" ran out. You and the boy beside you quickly found alternative objects to fling at the other members of your club.

Mike chose to throw his pen, ripping another piece of paper from his notebook. All the while, the boys pitched some of the balls back at you.

You, however. You went for something entirely different.

Reaching under the table, it only took a swift couple of seconds before a shoe -that was once on your foot- was hurdling its way towards the boys. Hitting Finn lightly on the chest and then fell to the floor.

And that's when the teacher turned around and started speaking in Spanish.

Mike and yourself quickly making yourselves look like you hadn't just started an assault on the table behind you.

Leaning over, you whispered to the boy, "I threw my shoe."

He snorted lightly. But before he could say anything in reply, the substitute teacher waved your class to repeat the words she had just spoken, involving Linsey Lohan.

Which the room did. Till she tried to boost your energy up and say it again.

As the blonde woman walked down the centre aisle of the tables, you made an executive decision... and threw your other shoe at Finn and Puck.

Sometimes you didn't know why your parents trusted you to leave the house.

Quickly enough, Kurt had pulled the woman away from her lesson, giving you the chance to mouth over to the boys.

'Can I have my shoes back?' They both shook their heads with bright, devilish smiles upon their faces, leaving you to hiss to yourself, "Fuck."

"You're gonna get your shoes back, aren't you?"

"Mike, what kind of person do you take me for? Of course, I'm gonna get them back," you scoffed, "I can't go home without shoes and give my dads the prime opportunity to make a 'Hocus Pocus' joke."

Let's just say, after you had chased the boys through the school and successfully tackled Puck. Your shoes were back where they belonged. Upon your feet.

---

Your brows were furrowed, watching Puckerman slick up the floor with a stick of butter from your place upon the black piano.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Finn asked, walking over to him.

"Kurt got us a substitute, so I'm buttering the floor," he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I can't believe you have a baby," you spoke dryly, scratching behind your ear.

"But Sectionals is, like, two weeks from now."

"Hey, Gigantor," Artie called over to the boy, pulling his attention away from the delinquent, waving his fingers between himself and the two girls sitting by his side, "We're all gonna swap names, yo!"

"Uh, did I hear something about a substitute-?" Rachel asked, speed walking into the room.

"Uh, Rach, watch-" A boisterous laugh fell from your mouth as your sister slipped and landed on the floor with a dull thud. "Oh, that was priceless."

"Yes! It works!" Puckerman celebrated.

"Well, at least I didn't fall and break my talent," she said, straightening out her hair once she was firmly back on her feet. "I'm fine," she remarked, to the giggling trio that was Tina, Mercedes, and Artie, before turning on you, "And some sibling you are!"

"Hey, I tried to warn you, and it is my job to laugh at you when you eat shit like that. And don't just blame me. Your boyfriend didn't even try to help you up!" You pointed towards Finn just as your substitute Spanish teacher walked through the doors of the choir room.

The tall blonde used the slippery floor to slide across, shocking you all.

"I love you," you said, not knowing what you were truly saying at the moment before it dawned on you. Causing you to look down in confusion at what had just slipped from your mouth. All the while, Quinn glared at you from the sidelines, beside her not yet boyfriend.

"Oh, what da' hell?" Artie asked with his palm raised, appearing as if he had just seen a demonic possession.

"Hola, clase," she greeted your team, "Nothin' says "bienvenidos" quite like a buttered floor."

Then Kurt slipped and fell behind her, making you laugh once again.

"Let's start with some introductions. My name is Holly Holliday. What's yous? Go!" She snapped her fingers, looking over her shoulder to Puck, who pulled a weird face.

"I'm Finn Hudson. I'm quarterback of the football team."

Santana raised her hand. "I'm Rachel Berry, his loud, loud girlfriend."

"I'm Quinn Fabray," you spoke up next, "And only a few months ago, I scarred someone with the birth of my child."

Quinn just had to retaliate to that.

"And I'm Y/N Berry. Rachel Berry's adopted sibling, whose father's love Quinn more than me."

"Don't use my dad's love for you against me." You pointed her way. Only getting a satisfied smile in return.

"I'm Mike Chang," Britany spoke abruptly, gaining nods of approval from the boy.

"Those aren't your names," Holly said knowingly, "You know why I know that?"

"You're psychic?"

"Other than what I just said to blondie over here? You've taught at least five of us, one of whom is Kurt, who asked you to be here."

Holly looked at you for a few moments. "I like you."

You raised your arms high up into the air, "She likes me."

"But no, I know this because I recently watched a video of you guys performing at regionals, where you came in last. Maybe it's because the songs were about thirty years old, but-"

"Those songs are classics."

"Those songs are amazing," Holly told Finn, "But they sounded like somebody else's favourite songs, not yours. Just sayin'."

"She speaks the truth."

You nodded at Brittany's words. "Totally."

"I'm not your average, run-of-the-mill substitute teacher. I want you guys to do things that you wanna do. I want you to have fun in our fabulous but fleeting time together. What do you say we have class outside today?"

"It's raining outside," Mercedes pointed out.

"Well then, let's take a field trip to Taco Bell."

The class chuckled in excitement, Brittany throwing her arms into the air just like you did not too long ago, with a, "Oh, yeah!"

"Should we toke up some medical-grade marijuana?" she jokingly asked, "I wish."

"Oh, I like her," you told Finn, the boy agreeing with you as the class laughed.

"Yeah, it's really hard not to like this woman."

"Okay. No," your sister spoke up, "We can't just goof off all day. We have to write a set list for Sectionals."

"You're right," Miss Holliday relented quickly, "What songs would you like to do?"

Stunned silence filled the room at her question, taking the whole group off guard.

"Oh... don't get asked that question much, do we?"

"Miss Holliday's right," Kurt said, walking to the front of the class, "Mr Schuester's set list's sometimes seems like he hasn't listened to the radio since the '80s."

"He probably hasn't."

"He never listens to what I have to say," Puck said, looking put up upon. Continuing to explain the time when he had asked the teacher about singing a Cee Lo Green song.

"Cee Lo! That's what I'm talkin' about!"

"Okay, excuse me, what would you know about Cee Lo?" Santana asked the woman, "'Cause you're, like, forty."

"'Top 40', sweet cheeks," Holly replied, quickly shouting for the band, "Hit it!"

The performance was very high energy. The whole team joined in with a smile, enjoying themselves. The only one who sat out was Rachel, with her arms folded under her chest and rolling her eyes at the woman who had stolen her place as director of the Glee Club.

Everyone -minus your sister- celebrated once the song was over, fun-loving bright smiles upon your faces before more cheers filled the room at the substitute's next words.

"Let's go get some tacos!"

You really liked this woman.

---

"This is pathetic. I hope you know that."

"There's nothing pathetic about the Glee Club," Rachel replied with a sharp bite to her tone as you both made your way to your sick teacher's apartment.

"Oh, now, that's where you and I disagree."

Your reply came in the form of a buzzer, asking for entrance into Mr Schue's apartment.

"Are we really doing this?"

You were really doing this.

It didn't surprise you much when you saw your teacher's insulted reaction at being temporarily replaced.

"I don't understand who gave her the authority to take over Glee Club."

Thanks to the thick, white medical mask your sister wore. Sitting in the armchair beside the one you were parked in, her words were muffled and ineligible.

"What?"

"She's being overdramatic. People can talk perfectly fine with masks over their mouths," you told him, done with your sister's shit.

Rachel, however, pulled the mask down just below her mouth to "repeat" her words, soon removing it entirely.

"I was doing a fine job of running Glee in your absence."

"It was a shit-show."

"And then Kurt, jealous, asked her to take over."

"I think you're the only one who's jealous here." Rachel raised her pointer finger and pushed it towards your face as means to silence you. "Don't you point that thing at me."

"I'm not too worried about her, Rachel," Mr Schue said, reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table and blowing his nose, making her quickly pull the mask back up to cover her face. "I really appreciate your concern, but... I'm not worried about someone coming in and usurping me. You kids love me." He finished with a cough.

Luckily the man was too hyper-focused on your sister to see the sceptical look drawn across your face.

"Sue doesn't," Rachel pointed out, "I saw them earlier, in Sue's office, drinking red wine and watching TV. They were having fun."

"Oh no, God forbid that ever happens," you said sarcastically, "Wait. They were drinking? In school?"

"You have to get well, Mr Schuester," Rachel told him, jumping up and swinging her bright red coat on, "Because, every day you're here, she's there. It becomes more and more likely that she'll start running the Glee Club, and you're gonna become the substitute."

'Oh yes, and wouldn't that be a shame?'

The girl put her mask on, then walked for the door, leaving you to turn to your teacher.

"Don't listen to her, Mr Schue. The sub's really a lot of fun. Rachel just doesn't like the fact that she's not in control of the club anymore. Don't push yourself to get better."

"Y/N!" your sister screamed for you from the door.

"I'm coming!"

---

You were, once again, in the cafeteria with Kury and Mercedes, waiting in line to be served your lunch.

"Oh, we have to get there early on Friday," Mercedes turned to the boy, "It's league night for little people. And they'll buy up all the small shoes if they get there first."

"Oh, I totally forgot. Greg Evigan is starring in 'Rent' at the community playhouse, and Blane got us tickets."

"Who?" you asked, never having heard that actor's name before.

"'Us' as in 'all of us'?" she asked.

"I'd be happy to give up my ticket."

"I think he could only score two."

Suddenly, Sanatana appeared behind the serving area, almost as if she stepped out of some demonic portal. Which... now that you think about it, would make sense for the girl.

"San? What you doin' back there? you servin' lunch now?"

Then she picked up the whole tray of tots then pulled away. As the other Cheerios gathered the rest, throwing them all away.

"Wait, what?"

"Wait, where do you think you're going with those?" Mercedes asked the girl.

"Principal Sue banned the tots."

"She can't do that!"

"They look like deep-fried deer poop," Brittany said.

"But delicious 'deep-fried deer poop'," you countered, plucking one from the tray she was holding and plopping it in your mouth.

"You can't do that," Santana told you.

"You wanna come and get it?" you challenged, pointing up at your mouth.

The Latina glared at you momentarily. Turning back to Mercedes, she said, "You don't like it? Take it up with Principal Sue."

Then they walked away. Leaving an angered Mercedes.

"I'll just get you-" Kurt tried, stopping when the girl scoffed and raised her palm to the boy, "Okay."

"Do they still have the pizza, at least?"

---

It was during yet another lunchtime at McKinley High when Kurt slid into the spare seat at your and Mercedes' table.

You were licking at your fork, covered in mint green foam. Looking akin to a dog when they eat peanut butter. Tongue pushing up against the roof of your mouth, feeling the texture of the foam that was a substitute for food at your school.

"Look at this crap," Mercedes angrily said, to Kurt, "Foam fish sticks? Principal Sylvester is only serving predigested food now. To give us more energy. I mean, do I look like a damn baby bird?"

"Don't fret your culinary disappointments. I come bearing gifts."

"You brought tots?" Mercedes asked with hopeful excitement. Causing you to look up at the boy, at the aspect of real food. Your fork resting under your top lip as you still tried to eat the foam "food".

"Better."

"A full meal?" you spoke up for the first time.

"No. But I did set Mercedes up on a date."

"I can't eat that!" you said, throwing your fork down onto your tray.

Kurt was slowly talking to Mercedes now.

"I get it. My new budding friendship with Blane is making you feel left out, jealous."

"That, or maybe, you also need to spend time with your other friends outside of school."

"Who's the guy?" she asked.

"Anthony Rashad," Kurt replied, looking over at the boy who was already staring at Mercedes. The girl gave him a shy little wave when he smiled at her, Kurt humming happily at their interaction.

"He hurts you. He's dead meat."

"Y/N!" Kurt scolded you lightly, pushing your arm to get you to stop glaring at the boy out of protectiveness for your friend.

"Why him?" Mercedes suddenly asked.

"No reason." Kurt shook his head, obviously lying.

"Oh, so it has nothing to do with the fact that he's one of the five black guys at this school?"

"Dude, think of something quick," you muttered to Kurt as he struggled to find words.

"Uh- No. He is a wide receiver on the football team. He is very good-looking. And he is a member of the black student union."

"Any nonblack activities?" Mercedes asked, making the boy drop his thumbs up and pull his other hand to his chin.

"I don't know. My Google search was a little-"

"I can't take this anymore!" She raised her hand.

"Mercedes, trust me. Love is just around the corner."

"What are you writing?" you asked the girl.

"Sup, homo?"

Karofsky.

"What you say?!"

The bully's eyes widened, not realising you were there before he quickly walked from where the three of you sat.

"Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"That's not what I'm takin' about."

"I know, right?" you turned to face the girl, only to have your previous question answered when you spotted her. "It's such bullshit- Oh..."

There the girl stood, on the chair she was previously sitting in, a large pad of paper held up high in her hands, writing upon it which read 'TOTS' in clear purple letters.

And that's when the screams happened. Others jumping up from their seats.

"Tots!"

"Oh, my God!" Kurt exclaimed fearfully.

All you could do was laugh as the chant for tots filled the cafeteria.

"It's like a revolution," you joked, leaning towards Kurt to be heard. Who just rolled his eyes at you as you watched on, entertained.

---

Rachel had ushered you into the auditorium, joining the rest of your club in the seats as she and Miss Holliday prepared for their performance together.

You were seated beside Quinn. Your feet up on the one in front of you, waiting for the "show" to begin.

"What morose thing do you think they're gonna sing together?" you asked, leaning closer to the blonde.

All the girl could do was shrug, her answer dying on her tongue as the two came out wearing sparkily black robes, lined with red fur, standing upon shiny red stairs.

"They better have clothes on underneath those."

You can like the life you're living

You can live the life you like

You can even marry Harry

But mess around with Ike

With your arm now over Quinn's seat, you leaned over to shoot Finn a joke.

"She's gonna cheat on you, dude."

The boy shook his head with a soft laugh.

And that's good

Isn't it grand?

Isn't it great?

Isn't it swell?

Isn't it fun, isn't it?

But nothing stays

In fifty years or so

It's gonna change, you know?

But, oh, it's heaven

Nowadays

'Okay, maybe you were wrong. This song was not gonna be morose'

Cheers sounded as upbeat music began to play. The girls on stage whipped off their robes to -thankfully- reveal red flapper dresses underneath. Leading them into their dance.

Quinn was practically in your side as you stretched over to grasp a hold of Kurt's leg as he brought them up in reaction. The blonde was smiling happily, her hands up by her chin and your neck. The three of you enjoyed the performance as it played out.

"I never thought I'd see Rachel do something so fun," you said, "It really makes a nice change."

"Gosh, Miss Holliday is amazing," Kurt uttered.

When they came skipping out with red and gold Tommy guns, you pointed directly at the objects.

"I want those! I will get them."

"I'm sure you will," Quinn chuckled.

"They will be mine."

And all

That

"Yes!" you yelled, arms raised high as the bulbs blew with the two miming shooting them.

Jazz

"Miss Holliday, can I keep those guns?!"

---

Kurt had invited you and Mercedes out to dinner with Blane and himself.

Which would be all well and good, if most of the stuff the boy's talked about didn't fly over your head and/or bore you out of your mind.

"I'm just saying, drunk people who let married to someone they met an hour ago by an Elvis impersonator- I mean, that's a bigger insult than two gay guys getting hitched."

"Yeah." You nodded. "It's stupid. But makes for a good story."

"Totally," Blane agreed with the boy by his side, as the girl by yours drank her drink, bored, "It's like, if marriage is so sacred, they should just outlaw divorce."

"Right- Right."

You hummed, "A lot of violence would come from that, though. And I'm not talking about protests and riots... I watch too many true crime shows."

"Maybe." Kurt nodded your way.

"What do you think, Mercedes?" Blane asked the girl who hadn't said a word for ten minutes now.

"Oh, about-" She tried to remember what they had been talking about. "'Don't ask, don't tell'?"

"No, we're on 'Prop 8' now."

"Totally for it."

"Against it," Kurt corrected.

"It's a bill to try and stop gay people from getting married," you explained.

"Oh, definitely against it then. I'm sorry. I kinda just blanked out."

"I do that all the time when Rachel talks." You nodded. "And God does she talk."

"Oh, don't apologise." Blane reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "We should talk about stuff that you're interested in, too."

Mercedes smiled, sitting up straight in her seat.

"I know. Let's play a game."

"Monopoly?"

"Okay, on the count of three, name your favourite 2010 'Vogue' cover."

"What?" you asked sceptically as Mercedes' face fell.

"One, two, three."

"Marion Cotillard!" The boys said at the same time.

"Oh, my God! Stop it!"

"Yes!"

"I'm gay, but I'm not this gay," you joked, moving to whisper it to Mercedes, who quickly faded into her own mind.

The conversation soon switched to football, somehow.

"Mercedes?" Kurt asked worriedly, "Marcedes?"

You nudged her with your elbow, bringing her back into reality.

"I was just talking about the Buckeyes. I'm a college football fan," Blane said, "I like sports too, you know."

"Oh, way to break the stereotype." They high-fived.

"I do not."

"What?" Blane asked, "Like sports?"

"No." You shook your head. "The only sports I can "deal with" are baseball: Because they hit things. Boxing: Because they hit people. and hockey: Because they hit things and people... what is wrong with me?" you turned to Mercedes, who just snorted a laugh at you.

"In football, they tackle people," he pointed out.

You took a few seconds. And then, "You have opened my eyes, warbler boy."

"Excuse me," Mercedes stopped a waitress as she walked by, "I know it's not on your menu, but I was wondering if you guys had some-"

"You want some tots," the woman said knowingly, nodding along.

"Oh, can I have some too, please?"

"You kids must go to McKinley," was your answer as she wrote the order down on her pad and walked away to put your order in.

"So, what were we talking about?" Mercedes asked, turning back to the boys in front of you.

"Has anyone read Patti Lupone's new book?"

"Who-? You really should have brought Rachel, instead."

Blane acted as if he hadn't read said book until...

"I'm kidding. Of course, I have."

"You scared me so much there!"

You made a show of rolling your eyes at the two boys to Mercedes.

It was gonna be a long night.

Your spirits were quickly lifted, however, with the text you received from Santana.

Only one word that read:

'Tonight?'

Looks like the night wasn't a total bust, after all.

---

"Do I really have to do this?" you whined, being dragged along by your sister to the principal's office.

"Yes. We have to get Mr Schuester back."

"Do we, though?"

Apparently, yes, you did.

You were a part of the first wave of your club who tried to get your old teacher back.

Finn was first up on that list.

"Mr Schue's the only teacher who asks you how you're doing and actually wants to hear an answer."

Then Puck.

"Mr Schue's the only teacher at this school that ever really touched me... besides Mr Ryerson."

'What?!' Your eyes blew wide.

Sam.

"He taught me how to tie my shoelaces."

"It's hard for some people, Sammy," you called over from the leather couch in the principal's office. The boy nods to you in thanks.

Then your sister.

"I used to think I was the best thing that happened to this school-" You rolled your eyes. "-But I was wrong. Mr Schuester is."

And finally, it was your turn to sit in the chair in front of Sue's desk.

"Make it quick, gayer Berry. There's only so much time I can deal with you acne-wielders in my office."

Oh, that wasn't a problem with you.

You shrugged. "He's alright, I guess."

"Y/N," Rachel hissed over, scolding your flippant words.

"What?! Listen, this is the best we're gonna get." You turned back to Sue. "He's an awful Spanish teacher. The Taco Bell chihuahua could do better. But he's a good Glee teacher." You waved your hand. "-Ish."

Brittany jumped up, ready to take your place before your sister could scold you more.

"Mr Schue taught me the second half of the alphabet. I stopped after 'M' and 'N'. I felt they were too similar and got frustrated."

Sue watched her for a few seconds.

"Get the hell out of my office."

Well, that was a waste of time.

... or so it seemed.

Mr Schuester had gotten a standing ovation as he walked into the next Glee Club meeting with a bright smile on his face. Showing that your efforts had paid off.

"All right, all right. Thank you very much, guys. Please. Please, sit down."

"Oh, God. He's gonna make another speech."

"Thank you for that and..." He sighed. "And for all the kind words you said about me to Sue."

Rachel threw you a glare. Which you smiled back at.

"The feelings are mutual. Now! We gotta get cracking through. We lost a few days there. And it's all gonna be about focus and hard work for the next couple of days."

"I guess Miss Holliday really is gone," Puck said with his head downturned.

"I know you guys liked her, and she was a lot of fun."

"She was so much fun," you said.

"Yes. But she and I agreed that this is what was best."

"Don't get us wrong, Mr Schue. We always want you as our teacher," Tina told him, "She was just, kind of, a nice break."

"She did loosen us up." Quinn nodded.

"Yeah, she let us do what we wanted, for a change."

"And she actually had some good ideas for a sub," Artie added.

"Yeah. I get it," he chuckled fakely.

'Oh, someone's insecure. How dare we like anyone but him?'

"And maybe we can uh, incorporate those after Sectionals," the teacher continued, as he handed out the sheet music he had prepared, "Now. When I'm sick, there is only one thing that makes me feel better."

"Medication?" you offered obviously.

"Gin and juice," Artie drawled.

"No. 'Singin' In the Rain'. Yeah, I must have watched it like, ten times over the past few days. It's actually what inspired me to try this out as a contender for our first song at Sectionals."

"When is the song from?" Sam asked.

"Well, the movie opened in 1952." Gauging his student's unimpressed reactions, he was quick to explain, "But-But-But it's really timeless."

You nodded to him with a fake smile on your face, turning to speak to Santana.

"Is it too late to take back what I said to Sue?"

The girl nodded, agreeing with your point, as she kept her eyes steady upon the teacher.

He really was back.

Yay!

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

You've been making me wanna write my own Quinn/reader fic and my brain can't handle it. It just wants more storiesss

Dude, bro, buddy, do it!

That's basically the whole reason why I started writing them myself.

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Your friends caused someone pain, while you threaten pain upon someone else... and your friends.

Word Count: 4,934

WARNINGS:  People doing shitty things, threats

(A/N): And we’re back baby!

-----

He was always over.

Finn.

Practically felt like he lived here half the time. Which only lead to many situations like this one.

"Hey, Rachel, do you have- Oh, for the love of God."

Your eyes quickly moved to be glued to her painted ceiling, after having caught your sister and her boyfriend making out in a compromising position on her bed.

"Y/N, I-"

"Nope. Don't want to hear it. Bye." Spinning on your heel, you hastily took your exit. "You owe me compensation! And for all that is good in this world, use protection!"

The intense need to bleach your eyes was strong after witnessing that for the third time that week.

All you wanted was the textbook she had borrowed.

Things had slowly been getting better between you and the couple. Starting to get back to how they were. The playful, happy atmosphere it used to be.

However, there was the fact that you still had to talk about the situation, and what had led to it. Instead of just sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it.

Just... not now.

You wanted to ignore it for as long as humanly possible. Even if you knew that would be the worst option in the long run.

Finn and Rachel were still confused, and rightfully so.

They understood that what they did hurt you. They expected you to be hurt if you ever found out the truth. They just didn't comprehend why you were so betrayed by it. To the couple, it seemed almost idiotic the way you were reacting, though they would never admit that in fear that your anger would flare, and things would only be worse.

And at the same time, you were never gonna spill the beans about why you felt the way you did.

Even if your sister had an inclination that was on the right path.

After all. Rachel still believed she was psychic.

---

"All right, guys! Let's get down to business," Mr Schuester began the Glee Club lesson, when he spotted your two missing members, Kurt and Tina, walk in, "First, let's welcome back, Noah Puckerman."

Scattered applause sounded, mainly from Santana, Brittany, and Mike, for the boy who scared Artie, causing him to flinch away in reaction.

"Puck. I hope your time in juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Puck asked the teacher. "I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Wow, what a catch. Can't believe I ever let you go," Quinn remarked sarcastically from her seat behind Kurt as she played with a pen between her fingers.

You laughed loudly at the blonde's words, throwing your head back, arms tightening in their place folded across your chest with every chuckle.

"And now, drumroll, Finn," your teacher began his announcement, sounding like a game show host, "Because I have in my hand the other competition for Sectionals next month." The club cheered excitedly, as Rachel prepared to write the names down. "First, the acapella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers."

"Okay. Hold up. Like a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head," Santana spoke, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Mr Schuester ignored her words, instead carrying on with reading your next competition, "And the other team to beat, the hipsters, a first-year club from the Warren Township continuing education program. Now, they are a Glee Club composed entirely of elderly people getting their high school GEDs."

"Is that legal?" Rachel asked sceptically.

"I don't see why it's not." You shrugged. "They're the same as us, just in a different part of life. If we can compete with the same education as them, then so should they."

"How are we supposed to compete against a bunch of adorable old people, though?" Mercedes asked.

"Are you kidding? Brittle bones," Puck pointed out, "Give one of those old ladies a good luck pat on the rear, and it'll shatter her pelvis."

"Maybe let's not assault the elderly, huh?" You squinted over to the boy now glaring at you. "Unless you really do want to go back to juvie."

"Moving on," Mr Schuester continued, "Since it seemed to get you guys jazzed about Sectionals last year, I wanna make this week our second-annual boys versus girls tournament." More celebration from the club. But you only rolled your eyes, knowing how these things tended to go for you and Kurt. "So, split up onto two groups and figure out what songs you're gonna sing," the man finished, pointing in either direction of the choir room, before turning his back on the club.

"Okay, I have mashup ideas in my emergency mashup list," your sister called out to the girls as the group moved to their designated sides of the room. With you remaining seated, letting the others come to you.

"You have an 'emergency mashup list'?" you questioned, but before your sister could answer, the voice of your teacher sounded.

"Kurt, gonna say it again. Boys' team."

"You know, you really should start taking your student's comfort into account," you said as Kurt walked off to the boys' side, disappointed.

"Don't tell me how to teach my lesson, Y/N."

"Well, I apologise for giving you advice on how to make your students happier," you sassed.

This was gonna be a long week.

---

"Look, I'm not tossing the baby out with the bathwater."

"I've totally done that," Brittany said.

Slowly, you turned to face her, with one word on your tongue, "What?"

"We're just making an adjustment," Mr Schuester explained, "Boys, you are doing songs traditionally sung by girl groups. And girls, try some classic rock. Uh, The Who, The Stones."

"Nirvana. Queen. Guns and Roses. AC/DC."

"Exactly." He pointed at you when you listed off some bands. "The more opposite your choice, the more points you get."

"Wait, there's a point system now?"

It took you a few moments to realise that all the girls were looking your way.

"What?" Realisation hit you. "Am I doing all the work now?"

"No," Mercedes said, "But you're the one that knows the most about this kind of music. We definitely need your input."

"And let's be honest, dwarf Berry wouldn't allow anyone but her to be in charge, anyway," Santana added.

"It's not my fault if I have natural leadership skills."

"I'm sure that could be called something else," you joked, getting your sister to glare your way.

---

"I gotta talk to you," Quinn said, walking up to you in the hallway, joining you in your stride.

"What?"

"I think Sam's into Beiste."

"What?"

That got you to stop in place, the girl following suit. People bumped into you thanks to your sudden halt, but you paid them no mind, just staring down at the blonde cheerleader in front of you.

"Are you okay? What's got you thinking this?"

"Do you find her attractive?"

"What?" you repeated, for the third time, only growing more and more confused by Quinn as the seconds ticked by.

"Just answer my question. I've got to know."

"No," you chuckled your answer, "I mean, Coach Beiste is nice and all, but I tend to like girls who I could bench press, not the other way around."

"So, you don't want to sleep with her?" Quinn tried to clarify, her eyebrows rising as she tilted her head forward, pressing for an answer.

"Where the hell is all of this coming from? Of course, I don't want to sleep with her. Let's just say she's not my type, as I said before. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, beginning to back away down the hall, "Just wanted to make sure."

"'Make sure' about what? Quinn, what's going on?" No answer, as you watched the girl walk away, her ponytail swaying with every step. "Blondie?!" Still nothing.

With furrowed brows and an open mouth, you were left alone in the middle of the hallway, eternally confused.

You had to find out what was going on.

You didn't have a single good feeling about this.

---

It confused you. The feelings that roared within your chest.

They were reactive and uncontrollable.

You were jealous of Sam's closeness to the girl you wished to call yours, watching from afar as their relationship blossomed into something you envied.

And yet. You still liked the boy. After all, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know. Not about your feelings nor the prior fling you had with the cheerleader. Yet, you were sure if he knew, he would step back, which only made you like him more. Causing those conflicted feelings within you to rage a war against the other.

Which is why you felt guilt, along with satisfaction, when you found the blossoming pair in the midst of some relationship drama, as you were on the hunt for Sam, to walk with him to your shared class.

"I won't get mad at you if you tell me the truth-"

"Oh, that's a lie." You barged into the blonde "couple's" conversation, turning to Sam. "You ready to go to class?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded. Thankful for the escape you gave him from the girl, he hoped to one day, soon call his girlfriend.

"Y/N, please butt out," Quinn said, keeping you and the boy from leaving, "Sam, if you tell me, I-I'll be relieved."

"Sam, welcome to 'Quinn 101'. You see when she does that little half-shrug thing and looks down?" You gestured to the blonde's body as she glared daggers at you. "That means she's lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Really?" the boy challenged, "Because it looks like you're gonna be mad no matter what I say."

"Truth," you called after him when he began walking away, Quinn and yourself moving to follow.

"Do you mind leaving us alone?"

"Hey, me and Sam have a pact. The classes we share, we go there together. And anyway, I think he may need back-up with the rampage you're predictably about to go on. No man left behind!"

Sam threw you a humoured but thankful smile over his shoulder.

"You said another woman's name while you were kissing me."

"Whoa!" you exclaimed, not a care in the world that you had drawn onlookers in the filled hallway to your outcry. Ignoring them entirely, "Okay, I take it back. I'm on her side." You pointed at Quinn, shaking your head at the girl you joked with a, "I would never do that to you." Only she heard the truth lining your tone.

She dramatically rolled her eyes at you, continuing to trail after Sam.

"Look. I get it. She's in a position of power over you, which can be exciting, and you clearly like women who give you a hard time."

"You have something you wanna share there, Quinnie?" your sassed words about her "getting it" was cut off by a realisation cutting into you, "Oh my, God. Is that my type?" you asked yourself from behind the ranting Cheerio, eyes widening as it dawned on you. 'Holy shit, I think that's my type'

Sam spun on his heel in reaction to her words, arms jutted out in front of him, voice masked in hopes other students wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm not cheating on you with my football coach."

"I'm sorry, what now, please?" you paused beside the two, looking between them. "You think he's fucking Beiste? Is this why you were asking me all those weird questions yesterday?"

"What questions?"

"Oh, about-"

"That's not important!" Quinn snapped.

"Look," the boy whispered, moving closer to the blonde so the onlooking students couldn't hear the potentially detrimental conversation.

"Dude, I would watch what you say," you stated, eyes wide and unblinking as you looked at Quinn.

With her head cocked slightly to the side, silently daring the boy to keep talking.

"She has murder in her eyes. She will cut your balls off and feed them to rabid dogs, if you say the wrong thing."

Did the boy heed your warning, though?

No. He did not.

"Can we talk about this in private?"

"Why am I embarrassing you?"

"I'd be embarrassed," you commented, looking around at the many students passing you by.

"It's not what you think."

"What I think is that I'm not putting out for you, so you're getting it wherever you can, including the locker room, with the Beiste."

You had lost count of the number of times your eyes had widened in the past five minutes. Peering past the cheerleader, you spotted the coach she was just ranting about.

Bringing your hand up to the side of your head, you pointed with a jutting finger towards Beiste, muttering to Quinn as you did, "Dude, she's right there."

"What's this?" the coach asked, turning to face your little group when she heard her name spoken, only further spurring on Quinn's anger.

"This is a lovers' quarrel, and it's your fault."

"Blondie, she will snap you over her knee without breaking a sweat. I'd watch what you say," you warned her in a whisper, leaning in close to her ear.

Quinn pushed you away from her, a huff of air leaving you when her elbow connected with your stomach.

"Watch your tone with me, missy. You crap on my led, I'll cut it off."

"What did you do?" you hissed over to Sam.

"I didn't do anything."

You gestured your hand out to the two women.

"Uh, I beg to fucking differ."

"I'll leave you two," Quinn said, backing up. And strutting past Mr Schue.

"Uh, I'm here too? Quinn?" Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb, you asked Sam, "The hell is up with her, with this shit?

"Everything okay?"

"God, don't sneak up on me like that," you said, jumping back at Mr Schuester's curious words. Moving aside to let the teacher in on the conversation.

Beiste was speechless in reaction to the man's question. More confusion for you and the two adults came not a second later in the form of your friend.

"Stay away from my woman." The boy glared at her before miming that he was watching his coach.

"Mikey? What-?"

"What the hell is going on around here?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing, coach."

---

Your curiosity on the whole Beiste thing wasn't sated, as Mr Schuester had sent you away in favour of talking with Sam and Mike alone. Considering you were in the dark about the situation, just as much as he was, and he wouldn't be able to get any answers out of you.

So, here you were, hours later, sitting in the choir room with the girls as you all prepared for the competition against the boys.

"The boys beat us the last time we competed against them. And we've gotta bring the noise hard this time."

"To be fair, they didn't officially beat us," Quinn countered Mercedes' point, "We got busted for vitamin D possession before the vote."

"Blondie's right," you said, mildly distracted by the patch you were sewing onto the back of your leather jacket, "Although, we can't really take any blame for that, 'cause we didn't take any. 'Cause, she was pregnant, and I'm... smart."

"Wait. Something's definitely wrong," Santana spoke suddenly, "Why isn't Rachel talking?"

A thread covered Brittany was next to voice her remark on your sister's silence.

"Yeah, she should totally be bossing us around right now."

"The idea of the assignment was to do the opposite of what we normally do," Rachel pointed out as she tried to thread cotton through the small hole of the needle.

After the debacle of an outfit, she wore during 'Theatricality' week last year had led you into teaching your sister how to sew.

Which you regretted as soon as you started.

But she got a grasp on the basics, so you would consider that a mission successful.

"I'm just trying to stick to the lesson plan, which is proving nearly impossible since you're glueing those sequins on backwards."

Slowly, Santana turned to glare past your seat behind Quinn and Brittany's chairs and right at your sister. Watching as she pointed and yelled.

"Spies!"

Looking up, you spotted Puck and Artie.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Rach. Maybe Artie a little. Definitely not Puck."

"Lighten up," the mohican man told your sister, ignoring your dig at him, "We're here to talk to Santana and Brittany."

Santanna hummed when the boys drew close, "So, how does it feel to be a free man?"

"He misses his cellmate," you spoke dryly, "They had a torrid love affair." Gaining small chuckles from some of the girls in the room.

"All I can say is that I don't want a long-term relationship with either of you," Artie stated randomly, "Especially Brittany, since I'm not in love with her."

"Smooth man," you mumbled.

"Do you guys wanna like, go out to dinner tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Not really."

"Oh," Santana spoke sadly to Puckerman's flat-out denial.

"Tell you what. You two show up at Breadstix tomorrow night at around seven. and if we don't find hotter chicks to date tonight, we might show up."

"I'm gonna punch him," you told Quinn.

"You are totally cool."

"Awesome," Santana and Brittany said. Drawing everyone's attention to them. Looking at the two Cheerios like they were out of their minds.

"What?" you asked as the boys made their way from the room, "Are you high-? Oh my, God. They're on vitamin D again."

"We're not on vitamin D, dumbass," Santana said.

"Then what the fuck was that?!" you asked, pointing a hand to the door Artie and Puck left through.

"It was arranging a double date."

"It was insanity. Is what it was."

---

"Thanks for this, Y/N."

"What happened?" you asked the boy, with arms outstretched, only adding to your question.

You had been walking to your car after a tiring day at work, fitting in some planters and benches at a local care facility. When your phone vibrated in your pocket.

It was Artie, and he needed your help.

So, you made a detour to Breadstix on your way back home.

The sky was almost black as you walked through the restaurant parking lot towards the boy waiting for you by the entrance.

"Puck and I took Santana and Brittany out on a double date."

"Yeah, I gathered from that act a few days ago in the choir room. But, why'd they leave you here?" you asked, beginning to push him towards your parked car.

"Puck wanted to 'dine and dash', but I wussed out and paid for the meal."

"So, they left you here because you have a soul?" you clarified, before sighing, "You did the right thing, Artie. There's a reason why Puckerman isn't really liked around town. You keep doing the right thing, wheels."

"Thanks, Y/N."

"Anything, buddy. Anytime."

---

Applause and cheers filled the room after your performance with the girls.

"Very, very, impressive," Mr Schuester complimented, "But Y/N, I wish you were more involved in the performance."

"What you on about? I was playing the guitar the whole time," you replied, "That guitar solo wasn't easy, you know."

"I think I, along with the guys, would have liked to see you up there on the platform with the girls."

"Listen, Mr Schue, This is the best you're gonna get. Considering this makes me uncomfortable, and you know that."

"Well, anyway," the teacher moved on awkwardly, "What was it that made you guys choose these songs?"

"Well-"

You cut your sister off as you place the guitar back on its stand, stepping towards the girls, "Me. It was all me."

Before anything else could be said, Becky Jackson entered the room, running to the Spanish teacher with a note in her hand.

Brittany moved from under your arm to go speak with Santana, leaving you with the other blonde you had thrown your arm over.

"You look really cute like this, you know?" you complimented her.

"Do I?"

A few nods. "Yeah."

"You look pretty good yourself."

"If my bike was ready, I'd offer to take you for a ride on it. We are both dressed for it."

"You won't catch me dead on one of those things." Quinn pointed at you.

"Still too scared?"

"Too dangerous."

"You know I'd be safe." You smiled. "Especially if you were on the back."

"You're not gonna convince me otherwise," she said with a laugh, shaking her head.

While you and the blonde were talking, making your way out of the room, neither of you noticed the look Kurt and Mercedes shared at your closeness.

The next time you were in the choir room wasn't as pleasant.

"Well, I genuinely hope you guys are happy, because Coach Beiste has quit."

"Hold up. What?"

"Wait. What?" Finn asked, just as confused as you, "That's terrible."

"Yeah, that's not what we want," Sam added.

"That's the opposite of what we want," Artie was next to speak from beside you, "The football team was actually winning."

"Well, you better put your heads together and find a way to get her back, fast, because I am actually ashamed of you," Mr Schuester's tone turned angered now, "You really hurt someone who is a great addition to this school."

"Whoa." You held up your hand. "I don't appreciate somebody being ashamed of me and telling me that I hurt someone when I didn't even do anything, to begin with."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. What exactly did we do?" your sister asked, not appreciating the teacher's words nor tone either.

"No, no. It's us," her boyfriend cleared it up for everyone who was confused. "The boys."

"And Tina," Mike added.

"Tina?" you asked, confused, looking behind you at the girl.

Finn started to explain what was going on, his words and movements uncomfortable during his admittance.

"We sort of figured out that picturing the Beiste while making out was even better than a cold shower." Then he rushed to save himself from embarrassment, in front of his girlfriend, "Uh- I mean, I-I don't... ever."

In a cough, you said, "The mail." Gaining a glare from the tall boy.

Then his words registered with you.

"Wait. You do what?! Do you know how insulting that is to someone? And then you expect them not to feel bad about it when they find out? The hell is wrong with you guys?"

"Can I just say, this is what happens when people don't put out," Santana said, "If everyone put out, we would have a winning football team."

"Shut up, San. People can have sex if they do or don't want to."

"Do you have this problem that the guys do?" she asked you.

'We have sex enough for you to full-well know that answer'

"I really don't want to hear this," Rachel protested, from her seat.

Smirking at your sister's distress, you answered the question, "No. Strangely enough, I can control myself. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter because I can do it multiple times. And if I had to "cool down" I would be normal and think of my grandma, or dead puppies, or something."

Mr Schuester had grown uncomfortable with your words, but before he could speak, Principal Figgins entered the choir room.

"William. I need to see you and Noah Puckerman in my office, please."

"Oh, God, Puckerman's going back to juvie. There is a God!"

"Shut up, Berry," the boy grumbled as he walked down the platforms.

"Send me a postcard!"

---

You were calm.

Everything was fine.

Seriously. Everything was truly fine.

That was until you spotted Karofsky being his douchebag of a self, pushing a kid up against the metal fence lining the outdoor staircase, as Kurt watched on, on the way to your next class.

Putting two and two together, you quickly sprung into action and rushed down the stairs to help the boys out.

"You have to stop this!" Kurt yelled, trying to push Karofsky off of the random boy.

The bully was surprised when suddenly he was the one pressed up against the chain wall, with you bearing down on him.

Unknown to the blonde onlooker, who followed behind you on the stairs.

"You leave them alone, you hear me?" you told him, pointing in his face, "You leave Kurt and-" A glance up and down at the stranger wearing a black and red school uniform. "This kid, I don't know alone, or else I'll pull a Sue Sylvester and push you down these stairs."

"No, you won't," a voice suddenly sounded behind you.

A voice you knew.

A hand wrapped into the worn denim of the jacket you wore, using that to tug you away from the boy you had pressed up against the makeshift wall and down the stairs, you had just threatened to push him down.

Peering over your shoulder, you spotted Quinn Fabray.

"What are you doing?" you almost sneered, pulling away from the hold she had on you, straightening out your jacket.

Yet she still pulled you along, directing you to walk away from where you could potentially do some serious damage to the boy.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was stopping Karofsky from bullying Kurt and some random kid."

"By threatening to push him down the stairs?" she came closer to hiss at you.

"Did you really think I was gonna do that?"

"No, of course not. But he doesn't know that, does he?"

"So, what? Is this you trying to tell me that you care if he's scared or not?"

"No. I don't care about Karofsky." Quinn rolled her eyes at you. "I care about you. I care about you going to juvie because he tells someone about it."

Things were silent for a few seconds until you finally spoke, "I wouldn't go to juvie for that."

With a sigh, the blonde moved to stop in front of you, with a hand pressed against your abdomen.

"Y/N, contrary to what you may sometimes believe, I do care about you. You can't go around threatening people. I don't want you to get into trouble. You're worth so much more than that."

You scoffed in reaction to her words. Shaking your head lightly and turning your face away from her. Not believing that she thought of you that way, thanks to your complicated relationship with her.

"Hey." A hand gripped the sides of your jaw, pulling you back to face her, it dropping to your chest as she continued, "You believe in me. That I can obtain my dreams. You told me so yourself. I believe the same for you. So, don't let a jerk like Karofsky mess up your future. Because he's not worth it. Okay?"

Quinn waited for you to say something.

However, you only gave her a relinquished nod of agreement. Unable to meet her eyes as you did.

"Good," she stated with a smile. Hand on your chest, moving to wrap around the collar of your jacket, "Now, come on. Let's get to class."

"God. What is it with you and dragging me around, Fabray?"

---

"I don't get it. It's boys against the girls, but... what does the winner get?"

"Money," you joked from where you stood, leaning against the stacks of books beside your teacher.

"Actually," Finn clarified, "We were hoping for your forgiveness."

"The girls and I don't need that." A shrug. "Except for Tina. You should really be up there with them," you called over to the girl.

Sam cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the tuxed boys

"Yeah. We just wanted to apologise for hurting your feelings."

"Coach Beiste, we think you're awesome," Finn told the woman, "And even though you're all hard and tough on the outside, it doesn't mean you're not the opposite on the inside."

"Like a chocolate turtle," Sam said.

"Totally. You're nougatty. We totally get that now."

"Stop comparing her to food, dude," you told Finn. Mr Schue nodded beside you, "Plus, you're making me hungry."

"You're like a mashup," the boy said.

"Why don't you guys just get to the song?" the Spanish teacher prompted before the dopey boy could compare the coach to anything else.

"Totally." Artie's eyes were screaming his thanks to the man. "This mashup is dedicated to you, coach. hard and badass on one hand and soft and girlie on the other."

"Yeah, and we hope it makes you smile, 'cause when you smile, you're pretty, and it lights up the room," Puckerman added, "Seriously."

"Also, if you don't like it and don't accept our apology, we're afraid that Y/N may kick our asses," Arte continued, turning all of the attention to you as you cracked your knuckles in preparation, glare upon your face at the boys- And Tina.

"Music, guys!" Mr Schue rushed.

The performance ended with panting boys and cheers.

The football coach nodded her head with a big smile across her face.

"It was really good. I liked it." Beiste rose to her feet. "Thank you."

Artie waved the boys and their coach into a group hug, gaining another round of applause from the group.

"So, are we forgiven?" Sam asked once they pulled away.

"You're forgiven."

"So, no punching?"

Beiste turned you, shaking her head. "No punching.

"Damn it," you hissed to yourself, moving your arm in a 'rats!' motion.

"You really wanted to beat up your friends that badly?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"Sometimes they annoy me!"

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Updated dates!

Berry Blues

Season Two Release Dates

First Quarter

Part One - (Audition) You Gotta Love Blackmail

Part Two - (Britney/Brittany) There’s Drugs. And There’s Whatever the Hell That Is

8/6/22 – Part Three - (Grilled Cheesus) All Hail The Purple Dwarf!

15/6/22 – Part Four - (Duets) So. Many. Catholic. Jokes

22/6/22 – Part Five - (Rocky Horror Glee Show) The Tale of The Creepy Teacher

Second Quarter

(Alternative names will be added soon)

6/7/22 – Part Six - (Never Been Kissed)

13/7/22 – Part Seven - (The Substitute)

20/7/22 – Part Eight - (Furt)

27/7/22 – Part Nine - (Special Education)

3/8/22 – Part Ten - (A Very Glee Christmas)

10/8/22 – Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle)

Third Quarter

(TBA)

Fourth Quarter

(TBA)