Glee Jelly or Jam

The second hand of the clock moved nauseatingly slow; almost as if it was mocking whoever chose to view it.

That was the only explanation that Quinn Fabray had for why the lunch bell had not yet rung. She should know; she had been glancing at it every few seconds.

She was about to again when she spotted the teacher look right at her. Subtlety, she pretended to be engrossed in her textbook while stealing glances when his back was turned to the chalkboard.

And still the bell had not rung. Was something keeping it from doing do? Maybe Principal Figgins being held hostage in his office? She better go and help him.

She rose out of her seat and was about to go help the poor man when the teacher spotted her.

"Sit down, Fabray. You think just because you are a Cheerio that you should get special privileges?"

Quinn was about to say that, yes, she should; anything to let her leave early. The sound of the bell ringing saved her the trouble.

"Read Chapters 5 and 6," the teacher said to the class. "There will be a test. That goes for everyone."

He had been looking at Quinn when he said that. Not that she cared. She was practically the first one out the door.

At last, lunch! Other than rehearsal, it was her favorite time of the day.

After stopping by the Cheerio refrigerator to get her special lunch, she headed to the cafeteria to nourish herself.

When she was right outside the doors, she heard a great commotion going on inside. Curiously, she pushed her way inside. It didn't take but a second to spot the great injustice going on.

"No, please!" the high pitched voice of Rachel Berry cried out.

Two football players held her down while a third dumped an entire tray's worth of macaroni and cheese over her head. The nasty, and for some reason greasy, mixture landed in her hair, on her skirt, some even some falling down into the crevice of her open blouse.

Quinn walked past the sight, shaking her head in disapproval as she made her way to the table that Coach Sylvester had reserved for the Unholy Trinity for the entire school year; one of the many perks of being a Cheerio.

She saw that her two best friends had already started on their lunches, evident by the large mess of food containers and wrappers scattered about.

"Can you believe that?" Quinn said, gesturing in Rachel's direction. It looked as if she was pointing to Rachel, but if you looked closer you could see that she was actually pointing past her. "They are serving meatloaf today."

"Why do you care?" Santana asked, looking up from the lo mein that she had been engrossed in. "You never eat the cafeteria food."

"Yeah, but imagine if I didn't bring a lunch or couldn't get a hold of one. I'd have to eat the school's slop," she said, pulling her bento out of the bag she had been carrying it in. "That stuff isn't fit for a rat."

"Are you okay," Santana asked, sticking a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "You have been extra bitchy ever since Salamander Lips dumped you."

"You mean ever since we broke up mutually," Quinn reprimanded, as she knocked Santana's hand away with a forceful shrug.

Santana didn't respond; she just gave a glare that suggested that she knew that their breakup was not mutual and went back to slurping her noodles.

Glad that her friend wasn't going to start something, Quinn opened up her chopsticks and began on her lunch. In the midst of dipping an ebi into her small container of wasabi, she spotted Rachel walk back in. Said girl was now wearing a white t-shirt with a picture of duck on it while still sporting her skirt that bore a few yellow stains that appeared to have been treated unsuccessfully with some type of strain remover.

Rachel walked back to her table, evident that it was hers by the paper bag that bore the name Rachel Berry sitting on top, and resumed what she was doing as if it had never happened. Though she did appear to be pouting a bit. She sure had a sexy pout.

"Earth to Quinn," Santana's voice called out, making Quinn turn back around, apparently having been starring at Rachel for far longer than she realized.

"Oh, yeah," she chuckled nervously in response before opening up her bottle of Lipton green tea and taking a small sip.

As she set the bottle back down, she attempted to act as if she was engrossed on the writing on the label while secretly stealing glances in Rachel's direction. Rachel was sitting by herself with some kind of book, looking all sad and pathetic, even by Rachel Berry standards.

Quinn wasn't surprised. Ever since Finn dumped her, Rachel had been all alone. It almost made Quinn feel bad. She could relate to Rachel's problem, having recently mutually broken up with Sam. Suddenly, she felt compelled to do something about this little quandary.

"Hey guys, Rachel is sitting all by herself," Quinn blurted out, making her two friends stop what they had been doing.

"No wonder, between the size of her nose and the size of her ego, there is no room for anyone else," Santana said, earning a giggle from Brittany.

Quinn however was not amused at her friend's remark. A year ago she would have laughed along and likely made her own insult at Rachel's expense, there was plenty of material, yet now something was different. "Come on, Rachel has it rough."

"Yeah, it must be rough getting all the solos," Santana said, tossing her hair back as she spoke. "Poor little Berry. Let's go take her to the zoo and buy her a balloon."

"I want a balloon, too," Brittany spoke up, seemingly not getting that Santana was being sarcastic.

Quinn ignored them both and stood up. "I am asking her to join us." Maneuvering her body out of the seat, she walked away, ignoring the many protests from Santana until she was at Rachel's table. She cleared her throat to let her presence be known.

Rachel looked up from whatever she had been reading. "Can I help you?"

Quinn tensed up. It was odd; she had two classes with Rachel, plus rehearsal, yet it was like she introducing herself for the first time.

"You sure can," Quinn replied, her voice surprisingly shaky. "There is an empty seat at our table."

She saw Rachel look over to said table; she did not have to look herself to know that Santana, and possibly Brittany, was doing something obscene.

"So?" Rachel finally spoke, gazing upwards with her piercing brown eyes.

"How would you like to fill it?"

"What's going to happen, am I going to get covered in pig's blood?"

"No," Quinn assured, now realizing that it did sound rather suspicious given their record. "I just saw you sitting here alone and-"

"You felt sorry for me," Rachel interrupted. "Thanks, but I am fine. I was just looking at the songs that I could do for Regionals. That is if I get a solo this time. You know, since you got it last time."

Quinn did her best to contain herself; it was not her fault that Mr. Schue gave it to her. Besides, everyone knew that he was going to abandon his whole, 'everyone gets a chance to shine' motif and go back to using Rachel and Finn for every number. "You can do that shit anytime. Lunch is a time for socializing and sharing a few laughs with friends."

Rachel's face seemed to twist from one of unconcerned boredom to that off pure disgust. "Last week you told me and I quote, I hate your fucking guts and I hope you get stuck in a vat of wet cement just as a steamroller is coming towards you."

Quinn held her head down. She had said just that, but to be fair, Rachel had been talking about how she should always have a spotlight focused on her, even when she was in the choir.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Rachel went on, burying her face back in her book.

Seeing that Rachel was being her usual stubborn self, Quinn was about to head back to her table, anticipating talk about boys, clothes, and whatever idiotic thing that Brittany believed her cat had done, when something seemed to possess her. She did not know what it was, but it compelled her to keep trying. After all she was Quinn Fabray!

"Come on, I promise that we will be civil," she assured while flashing one of her million dollar smiles. The same one she used in case she ever needed to audition for a toothpaste commercial.

"I am pretty comfortable here."

"I insist," she said with a gleam in her eye. Without warning, she grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and pulled her up, ignoring the many protests that the woman in question was sprouting. This continued until she managed to drag Rachel to her table and force her into the empty seat.

She caught Santana and Brittany giving her 'what the fuck' looks when she plopped down herself. Ignoring the looks she was getting, she picked her chopsticks back up and began twirling a piece of raw salmon in her rice.

Nothing was said for the next several minutes; the table having turned eerily quite. The only sounds that could be heard were crunching, lip smacking, and slurping; mostly from Brittany, who had almost no table manners.

Not being able to take it, Quinn decided to break the silence. She gripped a piece of salmon with her chopsticks and held it out towards Rachel. "Sashimi?"

"I don't eat meat," Rachel responded solemnly, not even turning her head to look at said salmon.

Quinn felt taken back by that. Was Rachel just being her usual diva self? She did vaguely recall Rachel mention that she was a vegan last year after Vocal Adrenaline pelted her with eggs, but she had just chalked that up to Rachel attempting be dramatic, as usual.

"So you don't eat any meat?" Quinn could not imagine going without her beloved favorite foods, especially bacon.

"None, I don't eat eggs or dairy either."

Quinn did not know what to take of this. Unless Coach Sylvester was making her do a fast, which was about twice a month, she ate meat at almost every meal. Hell, while most used a glass of warm milk to fall asleep, she would get up and make a late night grilled cheese, naturally with bacon.

Quinn's curiosity was now peeked. She just had to know what a girl who did not eat animal products could possibly have brought to nourish herself. Trying to be as tactful as possible, she kept one eye on Rachel as she opened her paper bag and pulled out a sandwich sealed in a plastic baggy. The sandwich in question looked very familiar, but she could not quite place it.

She then saw that she was not the only one fascinated by Rachel's lunch; Santana also appeared to be interested in Rachel's entree of choice. "Hey, Frodo, is that what I think it is?" Santana asked, never taking her eyes off whatever it was that was in Rachel's baggie.

"If you think that it is a peanut butter and Welch's grape jelly, then yes," Rachel replied, causing Santana to let off some not so subtle cackles.

"Peanut butter and jelly, how childish," Brittany said, then turned to Santana. "Hey San, can you help. I can't get my crazy straw in my juice box."

Quinn could not help but notice that Rachel looked hurt by the comments that those two had made on her sandwich. She did not know why they were being so mean. Actually she did. They were both bitches and proud of it, but she did not know why they were being so mean about a PB&J. Especially Brittany, given the fact that she still ordered a Happy Meal and tried to go into the play-place when they went to McDonalds.

And even though she was as big a bitch as them, sometimes more-so, she would never make fun of someone for loving a classic sandwich. Especially one that brought back such fond memories.

Not that she was a big fan of peanut butter. She liked it, but it tended to make her mouth dry.

But jelly was a completely different story; she loved the stuff. She could still recall when she was young and could not get enough of it, putting it on everything from toast to muffins, once even going as far to put it on her mashed potatoes. (Though she chalked that one up to having been read Beezus and Ramona in school) And by the time that she was done eating, she was almost always a sticky mess and usually forced to wash off or, in some extreme cases, take a bath.

In spite of that, she still loved jelly. That was until the day that all that changed.

It had been a normal day for young Quinn. She had been waiting on her mom to get back from running errands so she could have her lunch, since her dad refused to do so, believing it was a woman's job.

What a shock she got when her mom finally did come home. Judy had been so wired up that she had bought jam at the grocery store by mistake.

Young Quinn had thrown a fit and refused to eat it. That was until her even more stubborn mom refused to go out and get jelly until all the jam was eaten. And much to her chagrin, she let her mother make her a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich.

She could still recall when she took that first bite; it was as if everything she knew was a lie. How could she have lived so long, nine years, without experiencing the wonder that was jam?

She had practically inhaled her sandwich, then asked her mother to make her another. She could still perfectly visualize her mother's arrogant smirk when she asked her for more, almost perfectly mimicking Oliver Twist, minus the British accent.

"Earth to Fabray!" a voice said just as she was struck by something hard and greasy.

Forcing herself back to reality, she looked to see Santana clutching a small cardboard container of french fries; the same kind that the cafeteria sold. They were not good for eating, but they made excellent projectiles.

"Why do you keep spacing out?" Santana asked, as she dropped the fries she was holding back into the container and shoved it aside.

Quinn looked to Santana, then to Brittany, and finally to Rachel, who had been taking small nibbles from her sandwich, no doubt to avoid being roped into conversation. Ironically enough, it ended up giving Quinn an idea.

"Do you know what is funny?" Quinn asked to no one in particular.

"Monkeys playing the ukulele?" Brittany asked, looking up from her gummy bears that were lined up in neat little rows like soldiers on patrol.

"No, well yeah, but that wasn't what I was referring to," Quinn said before quickly speaking again before she had a chance to be interrupted. "I think it is funny that I used to love jelly."

Rachel finally looked up from the sandwich that she had barely put a dent in. "What is funny about that? A lot of people love jelly."

"That isn't the funny part. The funny part is I loved it and couldn't get enough of it. I would never even think of eating jam. Until I tried jam for the first time and I realized that I actually liked it so much it made me never want to eat jelly again."

"Riveting," Santana said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She reached across the table and snatched Quinn's tea then proceeded to take a very generous drink from it before sliding it back down.

Quinn glared at her friend. Santana knew that she did not like that, which was probably the reason she did it. She turned her attention to Rachel. "Isn't that weird? You think you like one thing, then you realize that you really like another?"

She had picked the wrong time to say those particular words. Rachel had been drinking from her bottle of Silk and when Quinn had asked her that she started to choke. Thinking quickly, Quinn lightly smacked her across the back a few times until the coughing fit died down.

"Sor..sorry," Rachel gasped heavily.

"It's okay," Quinn said soothingly, ignoring the looks that Santana was giving her. She continued to pat Rachel's back until Rachel regained her momentum and lifted herself back up.

She waited to see if Rachel would speak again. She didn't, instead, she started on some sliced apples, likely courtesy of one or more of her gay dads.

Quinn hated to admit it, but she was a bit jealous that Rachel got a homemade lunch and she got a store bought one, even if Rachel's dads seemed to think that she was seven.

Seeing that Rachel was not going to continue the conversation, she once again brought it up. "So wouldn't it be something. Like imagine if tomorrow in your lunch you got jam instead of jelly and you found out that you liked jam this whole time?"

"What makes you think that I don't like jam?" Rachel asked with a mouthful of apple.

"I never seen you eat jam or even show even the slightest interest in jam."

"You haven't seen me do a lot of things, it doesn't meant that I don't do them," Rachel retaliated with a huff, crossing her tiny arms as she did.

Quinn suddenly found this conversation taking an interesting turn. "Yeah, but you don't just eat jelly and even publicly display an interest in jelly, then suddenly show an interest in jam."

"Who says that I haven't always had an interest in jam? Maybe I just always ate jelly because it was always available and I was never given the option of eating jam!" Rachel said, her voice rising to a level that Quinn only ever saw in rehearsal when something wasn't going her way.

Quinn knew that Rachel's inner diva was coming out, still she did not like to lose an argument, especially to Rachel. "Well maybe if you had shown that you had some interest in jam someone might have offered some to you. It's not like you can just look at someone and know if they like jam or not."

"And how exactly was I supposed to let someone know that I liked jam? Go around wearing a shirt that says I love jam and want the world to know?"

Quinn did not know how to respond to that. She looked to her two friends who had not said anything since the abrupt change in conversation. The looks they were giving her clearly indicated that they did not want to be dragged into this dispute.

"And why is it even my job to let someone know I like jam, why don't they let me know that they like jam?" Rachel went on.

Quinn found herself gulping. She was clearly losing this battle of the words, but she was not about to throw in the towel so soon. "Maybe that person doesn't know how to tell anyone because they were raised believing that it was wrong...to eat jam."

She saw Santana look like she was about to say something, only to stuff her mouth with more noodles. She was rather surprised herself that she had utter those words.

Rachel also seemed taken back by it. It appeared that she had been stunned silent. Finally, she spoke. "I guess if the right person brought some jam I wouldn't be against trying it. I might have been waiting for someone to share some jam with me but they were always sharing it with someone else."

Quinn thought back to before and when she was with Sam. And then he went and dum-...and then they broke up mutually. "Well maybe I will bring some jam tomorrow. For you to try and all."

"Maybe you should," Rachel said, just before getting up and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving her half eaten lunch behind.

Quinn uttered a huge sigh. She picked up her mostly empty tea and downed the rest of the bottle in one swift gulp. She could feel a headache coming on.

"That was something," Santana spoke up, breaking the wall of silence that had befallen the table.

"Yep," Quinn responded while starring down at her bento, finding that her appetite was gone.

"Are you really going to bring RuPaul some jam tomorrow? It's not like Ms. Prissy can't go to the store and buy it herself," Santana questioned, though Quinn knew for a fact that that was not the real reason she was asking.

"I don't know," Quinn admitted. She stabbed one of her chopsticks into her rice and left it there. "I guess it wouldn't hurt me to. Since Rachel has apparently been waiting for the right jam to come along."

"You can't wait for the right jam to come along. You have to go out and find it. And when you do, you best make sure that no one else comes along and sticks their dirty fingers in it," Santana said, her eyes occasionally darting to the person sitting next to her.

Quinn snickered at that but chose not to comment. Pushing her bento aside, she rose out of her seat. "This sure has been one interesting lunch," she said to her two friends, then took her own leave. She made herself a mental note to stop by the farmers market on the way home.

She had been almost out the door when she heard something very interesting from Brittany.

"I like jelly and jam."

A small smile creeped up on her face. She did not have to look to know that Santana was smiling as well. And that smile never left Quinn's face, even after what Brittany said next.

"But I prefer marmalade."

* * *

Was she really going to do this?

She found her leg muscles propelling herself forward towards the direction of the cafeteria. That answered that.

She stopped just outside the doors that led inside. Maybe this was a bad idea. Or a stupid idea. Yeah, let's go with the latter.

Still, she had made a promise. That and she was hungry. One of Coach Sylvester's homemade breakfast bars does not stick to your ribs.

Firmly clutching the grocery store sized paper bag, she walked into the lunchroom, trying her best to not be seen for once.

She ignored the looks that the jocks gave her as she walked past them. They were all probably thinking that she was trying to smuggle in beer or cigarettes, maybe even something worse. Though if she cared to stop and converse, she would inform them that smuggling something in a giant paper bag that is visible to everyone is not the way to go about.

But she did not stop. Even after passing by a few of her fellow New Directioners, namely Mercedes, Tina, and Artie, all who had given her questioning looks but did not speak up; something that she was very thankful for.

And finally, after what seemed like an eternity-and-a-half, she reached her table. However, rather than take her usual seat on the left hand side, she instead sat on the opposite end, setting her bag down as she did.

Once the shock of sitting on the opposite end wore off, she went about unpacking. First pulling out a few pieces of bread that was made with her mom's bread maker, followed by an orange, some cut up celery in a baggie, some fresh salami from the deli, and finally the highlight of the whole meal, a jar of blackberry jam.

She knew that this looked peculiar, what with her usual fancy prepacked meals or takeout from the semi-finest restaurants that Lima had to offer. Hell, even her mother was giving her looks this morning while she was cutting up her celery.

Not that she could blame her. Quinn Fabray brown bagging; it was like something out of the Twilight Zone.

Now all that remained to be seen was whether or not her lunch guest would show up.

* * *

Quinn sighed deeply as she took another loud crunch from her celery. Lunch was already halfway over and there were no signs of Rachel. Why did she do this again?

More than ready to admit defeat and find her two friends, she rose up just as she spotted someone else walking in. She would know those legs...uh those leggings, yeah that is what she meant, leggings anywhere.

Quickly sitting back down, she pretended to be immersed in the writing on her bottle of milk, replicating yesterday's performance with her tea.

Damn, she was getting closer. Was she coming this way?

Have to play it cool. Who just turned the thermostat up on high?

Rachel just passed the jocks. She appeared to be a bit surprised that they were not doing anything to her.

Quinn smirked. That was all thanks to her. She had corned Karofsky and Azimio this morning and threatened to reveal their dirty secrets unless they left Rachel alone. Azimio had looked unphased, but Karofsky seemed to go into a panic.

She did not know why, but she got the strangest vibe from Karofsky. Santana claimed that she felt it from him as well.

She must have been out of it longer than she thought, because the next thing she knew, she was hearing:

"Is this seat taken?"

Without thinking, she responded, "Do you have a reservation?"

Shit! Why did she say that? It sounded so lame and forceful. There was nothing more pathetic that trying to be funny. She should know; she hung out with Puckerman all the time.

"Check under Berry. It may also be under future Broadway Legend."

Quinn could not help but smile at that, no matter how lame it was. She began miming opening and reading a list. "Hmm, let me see, no...no..oh here it is, Berry..uh, Ra-."

"Very funny," Rachel responded sarcastically. She scooted her skinny body into the table, taking the seat that Quinn normally had.

"Thanks, be sure to preorder tickets to my next show." She did not know why she was suddenly cracking jokes with Rachel; any other time she would be cracking jokes at her expense.

Rachel did not respond, instead she reached over and picked up the jar that Quinn had brought. "Oh, jam."

Quinn had chose the wrong time to take a bite of orange. She began coughing in sputtering in a way very similar to the way that Rachel had been yesterday. This was one freaky déjà vu.

This continued until she felt a strong hand smack her on the back; once again replicating yesterday's actions.

"Thanks," she sighed as she took generous gulps of air. She made herself a vow to never call Rachel Man Hands again.

"No problem," Rachel responded, her gaze fixed on her unopened lunch bag. "So, um...jam?"

Quinn had no idea if Rachel was making a statement or asking a question. Regardless, she opened up the jar. "Yeah, I just happened to have some." That was a boldface lie. She had gone to three different shops to find this. Thanks to Walmart, it was near impossible to find a small business that sold homemade preserves. She had been so desperate she had been on the verge of getting a jar of Smuckers.

"Oh," was all Rachel said, still making no type of movement.

This was going smashingly. It looked like she was going to have to make the first gesture. Just like she always new she would have to.

"Yeah, I got some bread if you want some," Quinn said, pointing towards the untouched bread.

She saw Rachel look towards it and reach out, only to hesitate. Did Rachel think it was poisonous or something? Okay, given their record, that would not be farfetched. Still.

When it became apparent that Rachel was not going to eat any in the near future, Quinn decided to show her that there was nothing wrong with it, other than possibly a bit dirty due to being exposed to the very unsanitary debris in the air.

Picking up the largest piece, which was also the most likely to contain poison, she gripped it with her left hand. It then occurred to her that she did not bring a spoon, knife, or any other type of utensil to spread the jam with. She knew better than to ask one of the lunch ladies; they had a total BS rule that you could not take any silverware or napkins unless you were buying a school lunch.

Seeing no other alternative, she used her free hand to open the jar before plunging her index finger into it, scooping up as much of the sticky substance as she could, well aware of how unhygienic this was.

She then did her best to spread the very thick and gloppy spread onto the bread. It proved to be difficult; the bread almost instantly crumbled to pieces.

"Sorry," she muttered, as she dusted her hands of crumbs. That was also very difficult due to the jam acting like an adhesive. What a sight this must be for Rachel.

"It's okay," Rachel said in response, not sounding particularly upset.

"No really, I guess I should have planned better," she went on, scooping even more jam onto her fingers. She was about to try another piece of bread, then something saved her the trouble.

"This is fine," Rachel said, just before taking hold of Quinn's jam covered hand and pulling it towards herself.

There was no way! Rachel could not possibly be going to-

She did not get to finish that thought, as without warning, Rachel slowly began licking the jam off.

Quinn closed her eyes and reopened them, confirming her belief that she was not having a lucid dream; she really was sitting here in the cafeteria while Rachel fucking Berry was sucking jam off her fingers in a less than subtle erotic way.

And she was enjoying every millisecond of it.

She knew that Rachel was talented with her tongue, Rachel loved to remind everyone in rehearsal every single day about that, but she never thought that it would be used in this context. It made her wonder what other things Rachel could do with her tongue, only to quickly shake those naughty thoughts away. She would save them for tonight.

Eventually, Rachel pulled away. She looked rather flustered and seemed to have a light blush on her face.

Quinn looked down at her fingers that were so sparkling clean that they looked like they had been ran through the dishwasher. She was almost tempted to stick her hand back in the jar and see if she could replicate the effect.

"I liked it," Rachel suddenly said, snapping her out of her daze.

"Huh?"

"I like jam. Not that I didn't like it before, but...well...I think I like it even more now." Her blush seemed to grow three shades darker.

"Hey, Rach, you should never feel ashamed," before quickly adding, "for liking jam.

"I don't. I hope you don't either."

Quinn froze up. Did she? Well, just because she did not go around broadcasting that she liked...jam did not mean that she was embarrassed. Still, look what happened to Kurt. Now he was off at Dalton, all because he liked jam. Or was it jelly in his case?

"I'm not," she finally said, earning a small grin from Rachel.

She grinned as well, feeling much better than she had when she came into the cafeteria. The potential moment was ruined by the bell ringing.

"Oh, guess we should go to class," Rachel said, picking up her unopened bag.

"Yeah, guess we should," Quinn agreed, quickly gathering her own stuff. "I, uh, enjoyed this. We should do it again."

"Okay, on one condition."

"What?"

"You let me bring the jam tomorrow."

Quinn's grin turned into a full fledged smile. "I like strawberry."

Rachel nodded in response, before taking her silent leave. On the way out, she tossed her paper bag into the trashcan.

Once all her trash was together, Quinn made her way to the nearly brimming trashcan where Rachel's bag was sitting on top of a mountain of half eaten cafeteria spaghetti. She could not help but peek inside.

It was just as she had thought, completely empty. Almost as if Rachel had just used it to have an excuse to sit at her table.

Try as she must, she could not help but snicker at that. Tomorrow, she would be sure that Rachel had a proper lunch; the girl could not afford to miss any meals.

She made herself yet another mental note to look up some vegan recipes on the internet when she got home. Wow, she made a lot of mental notes.

"Ms. Fabray!" a voice behind her called out.

She quickly turned around to see one of the lunch ladies clutching her still mostly full jar of jam.

"You forgot this," the woman said, handing it to her. "Wow, homemade jam. I haven't had that since I was a girl."

Ordinarily, Quinn would have made some snide comment about how that must have been a really long time ago, but she was in too good of a mood. "Thanks," she said, graciously accepting it.

She considered throwing it away; after all, she had stuck her dirty fingers in it, then relented. She was sure that she could find some uses for it; uses that involved Rachel, of course.

Taking one last look at the jar, she clutched it firmly and headed towards her locker for safe keeping.

She had the strongest suspicion that there was going to be a lot of jam eating in her near future. And as long as she had Rachel to share it with, she was looking forward to it every single time.


End file.
